tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53769172915978069582024-03-13T16:25:01.820-04:00The Perfect PourWhere Creative Expressions Flow.
Like a great cup of coffee or a smooth latte, I hope to create an atmosphere that stirs something in us - a pleasant taste, a warm smile, a reason to gather wonderful people that encourage and speak life to one another.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-18629852045412044232020-10-18T21:02:00.002-04:002020-10-18T21:02:14.397-04:00<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Good day everybody. It’s been more than a minute since my last blog entry. Not sure why that is - if you know me you know that I always have something to say - guess I just didn’t take the time to write it down. Feeling like I am supposed to jump back in though, so here goes.<br /><br />Life sure has changed in 2020. As I write this we are in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic. It’s the disease often referred to as “The Rona”. The Rona has come in like a steamroller and flattened our lives in many ways. Lots of people have lost their jobs. Many are trying to work from home. If your job was considered “essential”, then you had to mask up and get yourself to work. My Bill is one of those. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We now go out in public with masks (if we have brains we do) and always carry hand sanitizer and disposable gloves. If we can find them, we carry sanitizing wipes as well. You just don’t leave home without this stuff.<br /><br />Large gatherings are a no-no and that has affected everything. Most schools are closed and kids are staying home and being taught online. As I read about this happening, I was dismayed at how many parents found this unacceptable. It seems we have lost our ability to live daily with our family. Don’t get me wrong - I know there are other factors at play here. If parents are fortunate enough to still have their job, no school wreaks havoc on what to do with the kids. But a lot of times I heard parents complaining just because they had to spend time with their kids - that's what I am talking about.<br /><br />Many sports events go on, but have cardboard cutouts in the stands in place of real people. As we shop we must stay at least 6 feet away from our fellow shopper. Lines are long because checkout stands are limited to allow for social distancing. If you are going out to eat, they say you should be sitting outside to be safer. Fine for us Cali folks, but what about places that get real winters?<br /><br />When this thing started in early 2020, people lost their minds and started hoarding everything in sight but particularly toilet paper. Costco made a policy that you could not bring it back for a refund it got so bad - I mean, Costco said you can’t return something? Now that's serious. Stores started “Senior Hours” that meant you had to be 60 or over to come for that hour they set aside. During one of the “senior hours” at Trader Joe’s (yes I am a senior) I was ready to wrestle an old man if in his illegal walking of the aisle (they were one way when this started - read the damn signs!) if he even thought of reaching for the limited supply of flour that I was patiently standing six feet away from as the customer in front of me took their time shopping. Thankfully, he was going the wrong way for another item and no scuffle ensued. Oh, those were some of the worst days when everything was in short supply. Sometimes I would come home and have a mini anxiety attack from being out among people possibly infected with the Rona. <br /><br />One of the most distressing closures were wineries - horrors!!! I live in a part of the country where vineyards and wineries are plentiful and its wonderful to sit in view of this beauty and have a glass of vino while doing it. Gathering there with friends and family is a favorite thing. After many back and forth restrictions they are open again with social distancing in place. Whew! Some order has been restored.<br /><br />Shelves are fairly well stocked some 8 months after this started, but you can barely find some of the sanitizing wipes. No matter, I slather sanitizer over everything. Stores usually have cart wipes available, so we are covered. At first, they were out there spraying and sanitizing carts for you. They even paid a staff member to mind the carts and make sure you got one that was freshly treated. Most stores have stopped that and you now have to do it yourself.<br /><br />So, in this time of Covid-19, things have changed. We are home more. Our travel plans were canceled. We usually have visitors on the regular, but visitors pretty much ceased. A few family members came to visit and I was so glad to see them, but they were asked to isolate and be extra careful for 2 weeks before coming in order to protect not only Bill and I, but his 93 year old mama. Two of our visitors were so conscious of this they triple masked up on the plane AND wore a face shield. Now that is commitment to safety and we appreciated it.<br /><br />I have taken to mask making - serious mask making. My mom was a very gifted seamstress so I grew up sewing. I am no Eleanor Crabill (my mommy) but I have done pretty well with my masks. After much research and trying out several patterns, I settled on the one that I am cranking out now. I have made so many, I no longer need to refer to directions. In the past couple weeks I have mailed out 24 masks to family and friends as well as given away more to some local folks. Bill has enough he can wear a different one each day to work and there is always a stainless steel bowl on the kitchen island for his used masks when he comes home. Yes, we usually wash them after every use.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toqWuq8gerE/X4zg0wF0MjI/AAAAAAAAAgs/nkyXEVkpPlYoRyVnrCrhbaJ0rsYVFb1RgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/mask%2Bpicture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toqWuq8gerE/X4zg0wF0MjI/AAAAAAAAAgs/nkyXEVkpPlYoRyVnrCrhbaJ0rsYVFb1RgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/mask%2Bpicture.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /><br />Masks have become so much a part of our routine - and in my opinion will continue to be well into 2021 - I overhauled my office space to accommodate a sewing machine so I can continue to sew them. At first, material was hard to get - Joann Fabrics had a line half a block long daily at their local store. I tried ordering online but got messages that what was ordered was no longer available. I had little usable material around, so took to cutting up old shirts and sheets. Turns out they were perfect because they were nice and soft on your face, plus they were 100% cotton as is recommended for masks. Eventually while shopping at Wal-mart, I found bins of seasonal material in 1 yard lengths. My stock of masks include spring, autumn and Christmas materials. I have become a mask making Queen. <br /><br />Cooking has always been a part of my life, but in these times its front and center. I have also started making bread again to ensure we have it. Bread is well liked in our home and having it on hand is essential. Making a quick store run for one or two items is something I avoid these days so once I could find flour (that was a difficult task at the beginning of this) I started stocking the freezer with bread so I would always have it on hand. Bill and his mom are pretty happy about it - home cooked meals and homemade bread - sometimes they wonder what all the fuss about having to stay at home is about. LOL<br /><br />The Rona has introduced more than just masks and sanitizer to us - I now know about “Insta-cart” and “Door Dash”. Back when this started and no one knew how it was spread, stores were off limits to me. Thankfully, Costco and Insta-cart came to the rescue. We only used it a few times, but it was awesome. Since I was cooking so much, my mother-in-law Mariana blessed me with take out once a week and so we became acquainted with Door Dash. Insta-cart is no longer needed, but Door Dash remains. It not only helps me not to have to cook every day, but we choose to order from local restaurants to help keep them thriving.<br /><br />Life in the days of the virus are challenging, but we are alive and well. Not all can say that. So we are very thankful for staying healthy. When you get bored looking at the same walls every day, you can just turn on the tv and listen to stuff about the election - that should get you going. These are strange times we are living in. God is certainly trying to get our attention. My hope is that we give that attention right back.<br /><br />My hope for you all is that you are well and looking forward to 2021. I'd love to hear how you are getting on in this time of Covid-19 so leave some comments.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><p></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-74856559337062360852016-04-08T11:02:00.001-04:002016-04-08T16:25:30.416-04:00It Must Be The Holy Ghost...<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's a warm, yet breezy Sunday afternoon at the Barnard homestead. I sit outside on my lovely patio listening to the wind chimes and watching as the breeze blows the leaves on the fig tree. My hummingbird feeders are empty, so the hummers have abandoned me for the time being. But they are forgiving; as soon as I fill the feeders they shall be back.<br /><br />It's been a lovely day so far. Church first thing, then a stop at a local Filipino market to pick up lunch. Then we head to our local winery, Orfila, to sit at the picnic tables and have a glass of wine with our Lumpia and Pancit. Many others had the same idea - the lawn is full of children blowing bubbles and climbing on rocks. Its a beautiful safe open place for the kids to play while their parents sit in the shade enjoying a day off.<br /><br />My blogging has been scarce again. I write all the time, I just don't post it. What's up with that? But today, I turned a corner. Something else is going on and I am tuning my ear to hear. I am being pushed. Old Wingers, do you remember the song "Something is Pushing Me". I hear Eric singing it now - “Something is pushing me, something is pushing me. I’m too blessed to stay under”. If you got it, listen to it. Its on one of the Madabuko recordings.<br /><br />What has gotten my attention? Is it Spring is in the air? Is it the messages my pastor has been preaching that are inspiring me? Is it because I am in the fourth month of the year and I swore 2016 would be MY year to get on the stick? Most likely all of the above, and then some. In my 50 plus years I know that if you don't take a plunge periodically, you will get stuck right where you are. And who wants to do that? So I yield to the force to get those feet stuck in the mud unstuck. Something is pushing me.<br /><br />Today in church our pastor talked about the Holy Spirit. Talk of the Holy Spirit scares some people. Visions of "holy rollers" dance in their head and they close their minds to something that could give them all the things they are looking for. "It doesn't take all that" they say. Some folks just want it nice and quiet in their church service - no hooping or hollering. You can praise God, just don't do it too loud or for too long. Three points and a prayer and wasn't that lovely. The thought of going into a buck dance or shouting out a few "say that's" just isn't dignified. Ha ha, look at me going off on a tangent! LOL. Well, I won't go into preaching here, but admit that I would rather have a bit of wild fire than no fire at all as they say. <br /><br />Anyway, I digress - the Holy Spirit - my pastor - church this morning. As he was speaking - actually, even before that during praise and worship - I heard "Taste and See". God was inviting us to the table He had spread. It was a table full of deliciousness, with flavors unlike anything we had tasted before. In that meal there was joy unspeakable, peace that flows like a river and the confidence to know that you can doing anything. There was no fast food, no packaged entrees, no TV dinners - it was a table well thought out full of food that would leave your taste buds exploding, full of nutrients of the spirit. God was reminding me not to "settle" for a snack when I could dine on the best.<br /><br />I sensed in that moment, many times we have a very limited relationship with God. We settle for fast food that temporarily satisfies our hunger, but holds very little flavor or nutrition. We choose to dine on a the devil’s pink goo burger when we could have perfectly prepared prime rib. We pick food full of additives that only make it "look" real, when the reality is its counterfeit.<br /><br />And truly, sometimes we just don't know any better. If you have never tasted the amazing, you think you are doing pretty good when you eat this stuff. The key is to let yourself get truly hungry. Don't allow yourself to be satisfied with the "quickie" version - just wait a bit. There is more. As our pastor said this morning (and my husband says all the time), when you come to the ocean's edge, don't just stick your toe in the water, jump in!<br /><br />I have done both. I have been in such deep praise and worship that you could hear the angels in heaven joining in. There was one time when my old church was recording a praise and worship cd. We rented a theatre to do the recording. It was a two night gig and the first night was unlike anything I had ever experienced. My friend Marce and I were driving together the second night. We had both been there the night before and knew how amazing it was. But tonight, we were running a bit late. Since it was being recorded, after a certain point they were not letting people in. As we are driving, we both felt the angst of being late - if we could not get in it would have been like being shut out of heaven! Thankfully, we got there in time and that night took me to another level.<br /><br />I have also allowed myself to just be nice and "fit in". You can tell when folks don't go in for the excited stuff and certainly don't want to hear any tongue talking! So, you restrain yourself and push down any thought of singing in the spirit or moving your hips or tapping your feet. And there are times when it is very appropriate to be quiet and sing softly and such. I know God moves in both. The key is to know where and how He is moving.<br /><br />It's hard to teach some of those things. It really comes from what we used to call "catching the spirit". The water gets stirred and the spirit is there, you just have to jump in the pool. But so many times we are just content to sit where we are, wanting someone to spoon feed the amazing to us. Then we get mad when it doesn't happen.<br /><br />God is always there - we just have to reach out and be a part of it. I am preaching to myself here - I am looking to be a part of what is happening NOW, not 10 years ago, or even 2 years ago. I don't care what some man's "study" says we should be doing, I want to hear what God wants us to be doing. Man's ways are not God's ways. How many failures will it take for us to realize this? It is the Spirit of God that draws us, not some program or statistic.<br /><br />What am I saying? Don't settle. Trust. Reach out. Stay hungry. Go deeper. Ask God for more. Believe that you can do anything. Know that God loves you beyond your wildest imagination and has amazing things for you. Stop being satisfied with the counterfeit and take the plunge to taste the genuine. You won't be sorry. Ask God for more and when He brings it, don't act like you don't know what's going on. Dive in. Immerse yourself.<br /><br />I'll wrap it up with a piece I wrote several years ago, "Never Settle".</span></span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Never Settle</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Increase my capacity, deepen my tenacity<br /><br />Repair my brokenness, make alive and resurrect<br /><br />Make me sure of my calling, keep me from falling<br /><br />Walking with God, not with man<br /><br />Make me Uncommon, an unusual Woman<br /><br />Getting the “Rest”, all that remains<br /><br />Make my world one that God defines, daring to color outside the lines<br /><br />Resist the temptation to make nice<br /><br />Refusing the words “I’ve been fighting too long”, content that wrestling makes me strong<br /><br />I will not settle in or down<br /><br />Who I am because God said so, letting nothing interrupt the flow<br /><br />Anointed by Him, not the world<br /><br />Resurrection power, I shall not cower<br /><br />All that I need lives in Him<br /><br />My victory is sure, just have to endure<br /><br />No weapon formed against me shall prosper<br /><br />As this knowledge flows in, I know I begin<br /><br />To cut off the devil’s supply<br /><br />My foot on his neck, his plans a wreck<br /><br />“Totaled” by the Hand of God<br /><br />His oxygen gone, I’m now brains and brawn<br /><br />Captain of the ship, master of my domain<br /><br />He made his choice; I make mine – to cling to the living vine<br /><br />Never feeling sorry for the devil<br /><br />© Sue Barnard<br /></span></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-72143395323131020162015-11-17T11:14:00.001-05:002015-11-17T11:14:39.589-05:00I'm Baaaaaaccckkkkkk!<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Good morning Monday! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's the middle of November, and that means just a few more weeks until we begin a new year. I am feeling creative. Plus it happens to be my birthday month, so I am feeling particularly inspired. As each year passes I realize that the time ahead is most likely less than the time behind and I once again put my mind to getting things accomplished that are on my heart. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another inspiration came from my dear friend and former Pastor, Daniel. He and his wife Connie were here last week for a visit. As we sat around the table after enjoying a meal and solving the problems of the world on our terms, he says something that struck me: “People just need to get off their ass.” And it is true; so many things could be solved and accomplished if we would do just that. So, my saying for 2016 is “Get Off Your Ass”. FYI to my fellow staffers at RVC- this will replace my 2015 mantra of “Grow a Pair”. And let me be clear, I am saying these words first and foremost to myself. It's the reason I am writing today. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The past couple years I’ve been very distracted from writing by the mundane, yet necessary things of life. There is shopping to do, meals to plan, church responsibilities and of course those chores - I could write OR I could put one more load of wash going, or clean out that cupboard, empty the dishwasher, etc. By then its time to think of dinner. I do this to myself, for sure. These chores of life have never been my favorite thing, so its best that I don’t get too far behind on them. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Oh and lets not forget the very important FB posts and the multitude of emails that arrive. </span></span>But this coming year I will find the balance and realize that there is some wisdom in the Nike saying of “Just Do It”.<br /><br />As I mentioned, its almost the end of the year 2015. Those of you who know me, know that seasons are a big thing for me. Not just the four seasons of the year, but seasons in life as well - people coming into your life, going out of your life, changing jobs, the start/end of a new year, moves, new things - they are all a part of what I look at as “seasons”. They are times in our life, sometimes short, sometimes long, but one thing that is sure is that there will be change associated with these seasons. So it being my birthday month and close to the end of the year, I have started my annual look back at what has happened this year and where it has taken me. Have I accomplished what I set out to do? What new adventures will the new year bring? Questions, questions.<br /><br />2015 was supposed to bring more writing for me - more blog posts, more poetry and hopefully attending lots of spoken word events. Welllllll, as I look at the date on my last blog entry as 2014, that is something I missed the mark on! Not many spoken word events either - however I did do some pieces at my husband’s 50th birthday celebration we had back home in Indiana in May. My BFFs Pam Blair (</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">phenomenal </span></span>poet and singer) and Janet Norris (phenomenal singer), along with the finest piano player on this earth Jua Coates and guitarist extraordinaire Bob Funkhouser, performed as well and it was like a fantastic open mic. I was so happy to be back in the saddle again with my creative crew I was giddy inside. FYI: Bill won’t actually turn 50 till next month, so it was really a “pre” birthday celebration. Also, I got a few opportunities to share some poetry with my church family during services and at our home group. My pastor even commissioned a piece to go along with something he was preaching on. Hmmm...better than I thought.<br /><br />I do continue to write though, just not as much as I had planned. No regrets here - when I set goals for a year, they are just that, a goal. If I miss the mark, well I will just try again. And so I shall for 2016.<br /><br />There is more to tell, but I am going to make this one short. 2015 has been a great year - actually, all the years of my life have been great as I look back, because they have all brought me to where I am now. Some years were more of a struggle than others and 2015 did have some struggles. But, I got through and am living to tell of it.<br /><br />Its good to be back my friends. Stay tuned for the next chapter.<br /></span></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-63158307477599140502014-06-09T10:29:00.001-04:002015-11-16T10:58:50.899-05:00<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Happy Birthday to me - not my "birth" birthday, but my "re-birth" birthday. What I like to call my "Jesus Birthday". Its been 40 years!<br /><br />40 years ago today - June 9, 1974 - I sat in between my then mother in law Marge and her sister Jo at a Vic Coburn Crusade held at the Morris Civic Auditorium in South Bend, Indiana. I was 15 years old and it was my one year wedding anniversary.<br /><br />Now, how I got to this crusade on my wedding anniversary, I don't quite remember. Maybe this guy was only in town for that one day and my mother in law talked me into it. Maybe I really wanted to go and somebody had to take care of our baby Shay, so her dad volunteered. Not really sure what went down, but there I was listening to this guy as he strutted up and down the stage preaching on Jesus.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let me give a bit of background here: Got pregnant at 14, the baby's father Dave was 16. We ran away - you remember, the Wilderness Story - dubbed so because we camped out in a forest. Our families had been so worried about us (we were gone almost a month) that when we returned they were so happy to see us that at first, we got very little flack. But pretty soon, the pressure to make decisions and plans was getting heavy.<br /><br />Dave's mom, who was a Christian, took us to see her pastor. His only purpose in speaking to us was to get us saved. We sat in the back bedroom of his trailer and after listening to his pitch, prayed with him just so we could get the hell out of there. Now, we both believed in God, we just weren't quite sold on what this guy was talking about. <br /><br />My mom, took us to my brother Greg's pastor - Greg was the only spiritual one in my family at the time, having committed at a young age to Jesus. We met with Reverend DeBolt at Dave's mom's home. His only purpose was to get us out of our sinful situation - which was living together at Dave's mom's house. His suggestion almost sent me into a nervous breakdown; he wanted us to live apart and "try" this love we claimed we had for each other. Imagine a 14 year old girl pregnant 41 years ago - not too many of us around. You were not even allowed to be in regular school in those days, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">there was a special program at the YWCA.</span></span> They wanted to keep you from the embarrassment of facing your fellow students in your pregnant state, but I also suspect it was to prevent you tarnishing the other young girls in school. So, I was already feeling a bit isolated. None of my friends had gone through this and I felt pretty alone. My family was supportive, but I still felt like a black sheep. My baby's father was the only thing I could count on and who understood and this preacher was trying to take him away from me.<br /><br />Well, my meltdown backed him off a bit and we continued to live together in a home we rented from my parents. Every few days my mom would come over and ask me what we were planning to do. When I told her I did not know, she would remind me that my dad could come over at any time and kick Dave out and would be well within his rights to do so. They really wanted us to make the decision to get married. This was about the end of April in 1973.<br /><br />These were tough conversations with Dave and I was the only one having them with him. I was already in "motherhood" mode and the instinct to protect and nurture my unborn child were rooted. It made sense to me to get married - we had already decided we were keeping the baby and I was ready to settle down. The year or so before I got pregnant I had gone from a straight A student to a steady D student. I was sniffing glue, smoking weed and Marlbouros. Social time with my girlfriends included playing the telephone "hotline" - you called special numbers that gave you a busy signal, but you could hear other people talking. People on the hotline shouted out their numbers and then you called them. Most of the people were guys looking for action. Man, have I got a few stories about that! Skipping school had become a regular thing. So...my life was kind of going down the toilet. The moment I realized I was pregnant, all that changed. There was a purpose and meaning for me. I was carrying a life inside and I had to take care of it. Even though I wasn't thrilled with being pressured to get married, I wasn't opposed to it.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFEe8Z8ai7s/U5TE_x0pEgI/AAAAAAAAAYM/iaP46mYvhb4/s1600/Sue+wedding+dressj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFEe8Z8ai7s/U5TE_x0pEgI/AAAAAAAAAYM/iaP46mYvhb4/s1600/Sue+wedding+dressj.jpg" width="88" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My pink dress</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I believe Dave felt some of those things as well, but it was harder for him to have that pressure to "do" something. So, he resisted agreeing to marriage a bit longer than I did, but eventually said yes and seemed pretty happy about it. So, June 9, 1973 my dad walked me down the aisle in my neon pink wedding dress (that my mom made) singing to me "Here comes the bride, short fat and wide". It is a memory I cherish to this day as there was no malice in it for him, only love and trying to bring a smile to his very nervous 14 year old baby girl's face.</span></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cZ17bOQwgzw/U5TMMi3wgNI/AAAAAAAAAYc/lBjCedHNPyA/s1600/Shaybaby2.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cZ17bOQwgzw/U5TMMi3wgNI/AAAAAAAAAYc/lBjCedHNPyA/s1600/Shaybaby2.jpg" width="164" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Baby Shay</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Fast forward to June 9, 1974. Our baby Shay was born in September, so she was almost 9 months old. Dave was working in a horrible fiberglass factory and I was a stay at home mom. We were still in the little house my parents owned - a 2 bedroom pre-fab with paper thin walls. But it was home - we had made it so. It had been a rough first year though. All I knew how to cook were hamburgers, hotdogs and Mac & Cheese. Housework? I had no idea. It was hard to make the transition from boyfriend and girlfriend to husband and wife. It was important for Dave to still feel he had some control over his life and he took to hanging out with his drinking buddies on occasion. During those times he treated me more like the girlfriend than the wife and that was hard - I did not take to it very well. Looking back, I am not mad about it. But at the time it was devastating.<br /><br />My life up to then was fertile ground for rejection mixed with great anger. Being sexually abused by a neighbor when I was around 6 and growing up watching my older sister get the shit beat out of her by her insane husband made me a mix of broken emotions. The rejection and shame that formed from the abuse left me with an un-fillable need to be loved and the beatings and abuse I watched my sister go through gave me a chip on my shoulder towards men. I decided very early in my life after witnessing an exchange between my sister and her husband that NO man would ever be allowed to treat me that way. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hiu51vPhiWk/U5TFADsuB5I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/1xpSgkr_Q7g/s1600/Sue+teen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hiu51vPhiWk/U5TFADsuB5I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/1xpSgkr_Q7g/s1600/Sue+teen.jpg" width="132" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me at 13</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Simply stated - I was a mess! How on earth could this 17 year old guy - who had his own childhood issues - ever know what it was that his new wife needed?<br /><br />So, that was my condition on that night in June, 1974 sitting in this auditorium next to my mother in law. Because we had "prayed the prayer" with her pastor, she thought I was already committed. And I was to a point - BUT - listening to his message that night, which included some pretty thick fire and brimstone, I was moved. When the altar call came I sensed Jesus calling me, but I was also very aware that the people I was with already thought I was "saved". Oh, it was hard at that time. Looking back on it, I think "what was I afraid of?"<br /><br />The pulling of the Holy Spirit was greater than my fears. I needed to make a public confession of my belief in Christ and so I fought through what I guess was embarrassment and went forward. A very nice local pastor prayed for me and that was it! I went home, told my husband - who at the time was a bit skeptical - and I have never turned away or regretted my commitment to Christ. <br /><br />40 years. Wow, the stories, the history, the struggles and the triumphs. What has that 15 year olds life turned into? Even though this piece is lengthy, its the Readers Digest version of Susan Jo Crabill Greenawalt Barnard. That night I opened my heart to a love I had never known before - a love so great it has pushed me on to move past hurt and into renewal. The naysayers had us pegged for failure - but not God. If you would have asked me then where I would be 40 years later I don't think I could have ever imagined where life would take me. For a girl who started out with very little knowledge of cooking, I became an award winning baker and have cooked many a meal for many folk<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, including in my own rest<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">aurant. </span></span>I have been involved in several churches and have been ordained. I have done lots of public speaking (Thank you Daniel Rice) from behind a pulpit and teaching classes. I am a writer and poet and perform my work at Spoken Word events. I have formed friendships and relationships that have enriched my life beyond measure. So many things that I treasure and chiefest among them has been raising my 3 kids; Shay, Job and Anna - they are my heart and my legacy.<br /><br />I have told many stories about my life already through this blog and my poetry and I know there is more to come. I will say that if I had not made my decision to stand up that day 40 years ago I am pretty sure I would never have made it this far. God took what had the potential to be a disastrous situation and made it into an opportunity for glory. My walk with God has never quite fit into the established model and that has presented some struggles, but the wrestling has only made me stronger. My goal is to make my world one that God defines - sometimes that means coloring outside the lines. Not everybody gets that, but as long as God is pleased, then its all good.<br /><br />The marriage to Dave did not survive, but we tried hard for 25 years to make it work. We had some very good times with lots of laughter. But, growing into two very different people took its toll. We finally realized that we were bringing no glory to God in our fighting and would soon end up hating each other and truly, where is the glory in that? But in that time we raised 3 wonderful children and now have 3 wonderful grandchildren. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Through much patience of some spiritual mentors and professional counseling, the wounds from sexual abuse have been healed. My anger towards men has been balanced with the presence of Godly men in my life. And those painful situations have made me who I am - a compassionate, loyal, fearless woman with passion. I will fight for you, pray for you, believe for you and try my best to see it through. Because of the brokenness of my heart, I have an understanding of your pain. Because of the healing I have experienced, I have faith for yours. As a result of keeping secrets as a kid, I have gone the opposite way as an adult and don't mind sharing my story. If you hook up with me for any length of time you will find out that I don't play games and if you are interested in getting some real stuff done, I am your girl. To talk about the things I have overcome and accomplished does not say I am so great, but says that God is. Jesus is in my heart and every good thing I have ever done is because of Him - if I can't share that, then why am I here?</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SxzT44u_ik/U5TM9hI6ZfI/AAAAAAAAAYk/xMeTgcFaobE/s1600/Familybill,sue+wedding.tif" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SxzT44u_ik/U5TM9hI6ZfI/AAAAAAAAAYk/xMeTgcFaobE/s1600/Familybill,sue+wedding.tif" width="151" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wedding Day</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God brought that perfect man into my life and I married him in 1999. He needed no coaxing or pressure - he pursued me because he knew what a wonderful catch I would be! And I said yes because I saw what a wonderful catch he was! Two people who had been wounded by life, yet overcame it to believe in love again. We continue to nurture and protect that love with a fierceness because we know what its like to lose it. Next month we will celebrate 15 years of marriage.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My life in Christ is an amazing journey that has so much more road to cover. I am thankful for where it has taken me in the past and looking forward to where it will take me in the future. Because if God is for me, who can be against me? And I know that I know that I know - He IS for me. His love gave me the anchor I was searching for, the safe port in the stormy sea and He has been my compass keeping me on the right path.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CxJiRVUQJTI/U5TRBVyGHPI/AAAAAAAAAZI/jwam_TGXd9g/s1600/IMG_9301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CxJiRVUQJTI/U5TRBVyGHPI/AAAAAAAAAZI/jwam_TGXd9g/s1600/IMG_9301.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Family</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A9mb3dsF0Xs/U5TQlB9u3jI/AAAAAAAAAZA/C8xT90OzDxs/s1600/IMG_3777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A9mb3dsF0Xs/U5TQlB9u3jI/AAAAAAAAAZA/C8xT90OzDxs/s1600/IMG_3777.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My sweetie pie and me!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /><br />One final thought: My former mother in law that I spoke of, Marge Greenawalt passed last week. I will never forget that she was the one who brought me to the place where I found my salvation. Thank you Marge - till we meet again on the other side. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-51095407147891155062013-09-11T13:15:00.002-04:002019-09-11T11:54:45.749-04:00<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Story of Shay... </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4xy1vg7AD6Y/UjCSygVI_3I/AAAAAAAAAWY/7_jbtXTlPoI/s1600/IMG_1927_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4xy1vg7AD6Y/UjCSygVI_3I/AAAAAAAAAWY/7_jbtXTlPoI/s200/IMG_1927_2.JPG" width="130" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of my fav pics of Shay</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xTCylaaM4GQ/UjCSo0kAueI/AAAAAAAAAWE/bmuCrfZ8tM0/s1600/Familyshaynewborn.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xTCylaaM4GQ/UjCSo0kAueI/AAAAAAAAAWE/bmuCrfZ8tM0/s1600/Familyshaynewborn.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a>Shay DaSu Greenawalt Nothstine. Today she turns 40 and I wanted to celebrate her in one of my favorite ways - telling stories. Stories of my Shay are in another post, <a href="http://perfect-pour.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html">This Mother's Day</a> so I will try not to repeat too much.<a href="http://perfect-pour.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html"></a><br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Shay is my number one - the first born child. I have said often that God knew what He was doing making her the first, as she was pretty much a breeze her first few years. Had she been more difficult, I may not have ventured a second and third time into motherhood :)<br /><br />I was just a kid when Shay was born - 14 years old. That's a long story - we call it "The Wilderness Story”, because it starts out with her dad and I running away to live in a tent for almost a month in a southern Indiana forest. The story of her beginnings is amazing and still humbles and inspires me all these years later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The odds were stacked against us. But as I have learned, betting on the long shot is what gives you the greatest return. Looking at us today, you may not see the evidence of the rough beginnings - or do you? Certainly the evidence of the miraculous, the beyond our belief and great redemption is there - it has made us who we are.<br /><br />To recall her rough beginnings 40 years ago may seem silly to some - why don’t you just celebrate? But it is vital to me. Because who she is today and who she will be tomorrow, stems from the awesome story of her beginnings. Beginnings that defied the odds, the naysayers and a million obstacles. It is a part of the celebration.<br /><br />The truth is, I birthed Shay, but she gave me life. Her life started at a time when I had lost my way, my sense and thought very little of myself. The choices I was making were leading me from bad to worse. But from the moment I knew she was a part of me, that all changed. The new life that had been created became my focus. Protecting, nurturing and providing were now all that mattered.<br /><br />I can remember laying in bed the week or so before she was born. We had a bassinet set up in our bedroom and as I looked over at the bassinet this thought came: “Next week there could be a live baby in there". It excited and frightened me all at the same time. Her creation gave me inspiration to be a good mother, but I had no idea if I could pull it off.<br /><br />Shay came into the world spinning - literally. In the delivery room the doctor thought her birth would require a few more pushes on my part and almost did not catch her as she rotated with my last push and shot out like a spinning football. She came out dancing.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xTCylaaM4GQ/UjCSo0kAueI/AAAAAAAAAWI/n5RPsJDmBks/s1600/Familyshaynewborn.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xTCylaaM4GQ/UjCSo0kAueI/AAAAAAAAAWI/n5RPsJDmBks/s200/Familyshaynewborn.tif" width="119" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just born</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />Black hair, large brown eyes, a flat little nose - I memorized her face because I had heard of babies being switched after they were born and I did not want that to happen to me. In those days (1973) mom's hands were tied down - yes, yes they were - and so I could not hold her or count her fingers and toes until I was out of the delivery room.<br /><br />What to name this little 7 pound bundle? I knew “Shay” was going to be her first name from early in my pregnancy. I had seen it spelled differently and decided to spell it Shay. Her middle name? Well, her Aunt Patty helped us with that - it is a combo of her parents - Dave and Sue. We thought we were so cool.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JPQd9QG760/UjCbskIJWgI/AAAAAAAAAXo/IcRnjYRPftQ/s1600/Shaybaby1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JPQd9QG760/UjCbskIJWgI/AAAAAAAAAXo/IcRnjYRPftQ/s320/Shaybaby1.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is it Shay or a Cupie Doll?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The name Shay, while made up on my part because I liked the way it sounded, became evidence years later on just how involved God was in every part of her beginning. When Shay was about 9 years old, my niece Cathy was using my Bible concordance to look up words and she found the word “shay”. It is a Hebrew word meaning gifts. The inference is not a gift from God, but a gift <b>TO</b> God, laid before Him. Something I thought I had made up had been around hundreds and hundreds of years. It encouraged me and I knew God had plans.<br /><br />In the beginning, we had people telling us we were doomed to fail. Shay's dad was only 17, so not much more experience in adulthood there. But we had gotten ourselves into the adult world quickly and we embraced it. With my dad’s help, Dave got a job - a terrible job in a factory making fiberglass sousaphones. But, it was a job. He worked there many years, hating every second of it, but it supported us.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0unNok_KwHI/UjCUGyHCUFI/AAAAAAAAAXM/QOQYne6kDkM/s1600/shay+and+dave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0unNok_KwHI/UjCUGyHCUFI/AAAAAAAAAXM/QOQYne6kDkM/s320/shay+and+dave2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Shay and her daddy</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, that's the short background. Shay was the first born of 3 children. There are so many stories to tell, but I will pick a few that I believe describe her well. <br /><br />It seems Shay was born loving God and loving people. She always had a heart for the down trodden and neglected.<br /><br />When she was about 7, we saved enough money to go visit Dave's brother Larry in California. He lived in the Bay Area and we went to San Francisco for a day. I remember thinking how large the city was and so full of things and people. One thing I had never seen before was there - homeless people. At least, we assumed they were homeless. People gathered in spots all through the city, leaned up against buildings, fountains, walls - bags of "things" next to them.<br /><br />One lady in particular caught Shay's eye. A woman with no shoes and green feet. It was awful - they were swollen and discolored and I am not sure if she could even walk on them. She was sitting leaned up against a fountain. We got a few feet past her and Shay started to cry. "Whats the matter?" I ask. Shay responds “That lady doesn't have any shoes. We have to buy her shoes." She was heart broken. Knowing that any money given would probably not go for shoes, I tried to make some excuse. But Shay would not be silenced and played the Jesus card - "Jesus would give her shoes." Oh my. Now, we had committed to the Lord not long after we got married and raised our kids to believe in God. This is the dream right - your children bearing the fruit of Christ. So here is the scene - six of us (Dave, Shay, Job, Larry (Dave's brother) and Marge (their mom) standing in the middle of the sidewalk in San Francisco, hundreds of people bustling by. Shay is crying, her heart broken for the woman with green feet.<br /><br />What to do? Even if giving her money was a good idea, I had none to give. We bought our tickets to California by scrimping and saving for a year and using our Kroger receipts to get some deal on plane tickets. I said to Shay, "Lets pray for her". She thought that was a good idea. So, we stood in the middle of the sidewalk praying for the woman with green feet. It was enough for her and we moved on. But I will never forget the lady with the green feet. Shay's heart was always tender and she would regularly bring home kids from the neighborhood and school that were rejected, beat up or treated poorly at home. Her heart was huge.<br /><br />Fast forward to teenage years and she decides to go on a mission trip (one of many). Jamaica I believe it was. Not the tourist part of Jamaica, but the part where real locals live. She came back full of fire and very aware of the excesses we Americans enjoy. When her brother Job complained about mowing the lawn (with a gas powered mower), she lit into him about how kids in Jamaica cut grass with sickles and blades by hand!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFii5KKX0zY/UjCXuKHA3HI/AAAAAAAAAXg/5ohA1xj1Mcc/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFii5KKX0zY/UjCXuKHA3HI/AAAAAAAAAXg/5ohA1xj1Mcc/s200/photo.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">High School graduation</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After high school she joined "Teen Mania", a group that travels the U.S. and other countries preaching the gospel. She was gone for a year. At that time, they were based in Tulsa, OK. We rented a van and packed up her stuff and took two days to drive there. This was my first child "leaving the nest". I was a mess. Oklahoma was so far away from South Bend, Indiana! I was so depressed after leaving her there we drove straight home and I cried most of the way - all 12 hours.<br /><br />In July of that year, Teen Mania organized several mission trips and they needed parent volunteers to help in Miami, the hub for many of the out of country trips. I volunteered and flew to Miami, in July. I will never do that again! There is no air to breathe in Miami in July. The humidity stagnates everything. When we wanted to go somewhere, we ran from the doorway of the hotel to a taxi! Anyway...<br /><br />It was just a couple days, but I got to see Shay and her room mate Angie. They were going to drive from Florida back to Oklahoma with their Teen Mania crew. (They traveled the country in vans and "box trucks", illegally sleeping in the back. I don't think I knew this at the time...but I digress) So, I am leaving for the airport to return to South Bend and I want to say one more good bye to Shay. It was an odd feeling that I had that day; I did not just want to say good bye, I HAD to say good bye. I had this sense that it might be the last time I would see her. I was almost in a panic because I could not find her among the throngs of teenagers in the hotel. I looked in several places but no Shay. My ride to the airport was about to leave and I saw her friend and room mate Angie. I grabbed her, hugged her and tearfully told her to tell Shay I said good bye and that I loved her. I left thinking she probably thought I was nuts, but I needed a connection to Shay.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dfXoiv2_68/UjCS7P0rgBI/AAAAAAAAAWo/PEBaqlDnZDA/s1600/Shay+and+Angie.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dfXoiv2_68/UjCS7P0rgBI/AAAAAAAAAWo/PEBaqlDnZDA/s320/Shay+and+Angie.tif" width="215" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Shay and Angie</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the plane ride home I had an uneasy feeling. I could not shake the sense I may never see Shay again. So, of course I did the only thing I could do - I prayed. I prayed for protection, I rebuked the devil, I pleaded the blood. I was compelled to pray.<br /><br />I got a call from Shay early in the morning after I got home. Their caravan had been in an accident. She had been asleep in the back of one of the trucks when they went off the road and from what I remember, into a ditch. Everyone and everything went flying. Suitcases and supplies tumbled and covered her. She was trapped inside, in the dark. Thank God, they unburied her from the truck and she was unharmed. She told me another kid's mom was also taken to prayer for them that night.<br /><br />If you know Shay, you know she loves to dance. She started young taking lessons - she was still in diapers. I took dance lessons throughout my childhood and loved it, so wanted her to experience that as well. She is incredibly gifted and to see her dance is to be taken to another world. She and her sister Anna danced their hearts out at our church for years and brought something that can tend to be very boring (worship dance) to another level. Shay’s passion for dance and gift of choreography transformed us from earth to heaven.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AR5trrIRceY/UjCXpFQQUeI/AAAAAAAAAXY/HkUJuu8ID5U/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AR5trrIRceY/UjCXpFQQUeI/AAAAAAAAAXY/HkUJuu8ID5U/s320/photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dance recital</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dancing with her cousin Vaughn</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Shay is a mover - not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. About 20 years ago, my niece was pregnant and planned to move in with us. The house we lived in was in the hood, not in the best shape and did not have room for 2 extra people. I had just gotten a job as General Manager of a new restaurant, so financially we were doing better. We decided to move, but really had not begun looking at houses. Shay’s dad and I were at a stalemate as to how much we would spend, so with no budget we could agree on, we did nothing. Well, this did not sit well with Shay at all and so she started looking. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She told us about an open house that was happening. The house was way out of our price range, but she said “Lets just look!” So we did. We did not end up buying that house, but it broke the stalemate we had and got us moving. Not long after, we found the house of my dreams and purchased it.<br /><br />Shay is someone who is never satisfied. I don’t mean that in a negative way - it is one of her greatest strengths. Because she does not want to become stagnant, or settle or become lukewarm. There are those who have failed to recognize this as an asset and can become irritated at her “pushing”. It is such a great loss for them. What many don’t understand is that when you start from behind, you get ahead by building momentum. Momentum requires strength and force. Staying ahead requires endurance. Shay possesses those qualities. I say if you have Shay in your life pushing you, you are blessed indeed. Chances are you will not get lazy and will see things change for the better.<br /><br />Shay is a fighter yet full of compassion. She demands much, but gives more. She is beautiful not only outside, but inside. She steps in where others run away, she sees possibilities instead of failures. And even though her hurts run deep, her heart remains open to love.<br /><br />There are so many accomplishments to list when I think of Shay - her missions trips, career, mothering to both Ashton and Kristin, dance, design - these things are so much a part of her. Of course when I think of her, I think of her most as my daughter. And she is a fine daughter indeed. We have our fights, but we make up. She is one of my favorite people to spend time with and we share many common interests. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Chicken and Waffles in Times Square</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />At this point I struggle with what more to say because I could go on and on. It is hard to condense all that is in my heart to this one blog post. Because Shay’s birth was so life changing, I look at my world as “before Shay” and “after Shay”. Her birth was the beginning of a grand journey that has been a great adventure and still has lots of road left to travel! She is a precious soul that I am so very proud to call my own.<br /><br />My Shay. I am forever grateful you are in my life. You mean more to me than these words can express. There is so much more ahead of you. Embrace it, don’t fear and be who God made you to be. Your times are in His hands and His love for you will never fail.<br /><br />I love you Shay baby. Thanks for being mine.<br /><br />Mama</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This is my Shay - laughing - seeming to say "I am 40 and I don't care!"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-44676713872100110872013-04-30T16:50:00.000-04:002013-04-30T19:20:05.007-04:00It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This...<br />
“I have some bad news for you Sue.”<br />
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That's how the phone conversation started when my dear friend Janet called to tell me her husband Dave, also my dear friend, had died.<br />
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I was so shocked by her news I totally forgot I was speaking to his widow and focused only on me, the friend - questioning her, making sure this was not some sad joke, wanting to know details of what happened. It took me a couple minutes to realize my error and come back to her and begin to offer comfort and help. It still hurts deeply when I recall it. And quite honestly, I have talked to God on many occasions regarding Dave’s passing, as it was very difficult to make sense of and accept. But, God is God and I am not.<br />
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Dave Norris left this earth on April 9, 2011. He and Janet were moving their daughter into a friend’s house in Indianapolis. While there, he noticed the lawn needed to be mowed and decided to mow it. That was so like Dave - he had a servants heart and never walked away from hard work. He suffered a heart attack while mowing and could not be revived. In an instant he was gone - only 60 years old.<br />
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We had just celebrated his 60th birthday in February. We went for a walk in Pokagon State Park (in northeastern Indiana) and then to dinner. Yes, it was February - but we were outside. Its where he loved to be.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave's 60th</td></tr>
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I have wanted to write a piece about Dave ever since his passing, but have held back. Because to write about Dave would be to talk about my pain, my missing him, the impact he had on my life. Realizing the pain Janet was going through as his widow it seemed best to put mine on the back burner as it cannot compare to what she has gone through. But, its time.<br />
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Dave was a man of many talents and abilities. He had several careers. He had many accomplishments. To list just a few: Singing, writing, hiking, caring for the environment, loving husband, father and grandfather. He was a city planner and Res Ranger. He worked tirelessly in developing, maintaining and supporting the Mishawaka Res. The list could go on and on.<br />
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I met Dave through the church I was attending. Gosh, its gotta be close to 20 years. I have known Janet for over 25.<br />
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From what I remember, Dave started serving in the church pretty early on. He eventually worked his way to becoming head usher and also head Elder. This is worth noting, because if you know anything about the church I was attending, you know that ushering was not just handing out bulletins and passing a plate. We were a group of hoopin’ and hollerin’ Pentecostals that were serious in our singing, dancing and praising the Lord. Services were rarely quiet and sedate and ushers were kept busy handing out tissues, moving chairs to allow for more dancing and many other things. Our Pastor was liable to do anything during a service and ushers had to be alert to what he needed. Not going to preach today and just pray for people? Ushers needed to keep order and direct people to the prayer line. Because people were liable to fall out in the spirit while being prayed for, ushers had to be there to catch them. Someone getting their praise on and their dancing getting a bit too crazy? Ushers were dispatched to make sure no one got hurt. It took special discerning to give people space to express their praise, but also know when someone was just trying to be crazy. Uh oh, the oil vial is empty and it is needed to anoint someone - shame. Those ushers got a look from the pastor that would have melted most of us.<br />
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There is so much more I could say about the role of an usher (my husband eventually took Dave’s place as head usher). Just trust me that they had to be special people. They worked hard. Sunday was NEVER a rest day if you served in our church.<br />
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Dave led by great examples of being on time, being respectful, working hard and meeting the needs of those he served. So, from the get go, Dave was giving of himself.<br />
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Eventually, he and Janet started dating. He was older than her and very different from other men she had dated. First off, he was white and she was black. He was pretty quiet and Janet was not. Janet had two young kids and he never had any. But it worked. Long story on their courtship - they dated for years. Dave struggled with depression and alcohol - but overcame them - I believe very much due to his great love for Janet. He wanted to be the best man he could be and did not want to live without her.<br />
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He treated her with respect. He opened doors, paid for meals, bought flowers, loved her children. Encouraged her. Believed in and supported her. Treated her the way she should be treated. It was amazing to watch their story develop.<br />
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One of the greatest memories I have is being privy to the day he asked her to marry him. He decided to do it at church, during a service and he needed help pulling it off. He asked me to be a part of it. What an honor. He knew I had fierce love for Janet and I would do anything I could to help make it go off without a hitch. I can’t remember all I was in charge of, but I do remember having to make sure a bouquet of flowers got to him at the right time.<br />
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Janet was sitting in the front row. He had arranged for a pause in the service and he walked up to her, got down on his knee, in front of the church and declared his deep love for her and asked for her hand. Many of us knew the journey it took to get to this place and very few could contain their emotion. Here was a man not afraid of showing the world just how much he loved Janet. Oh, he set a high standard for the ladies in the church that day. I for one never forgot it.<br />
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Together, they just took off. Janet is a singer and her song got better. Dave was a dreamer and started implementing those dreams. Dave convinced an inner city girl to live out on a nature preserve and take trips to East Glacier, Montana. They grew in their roles in the church and both became elders.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Family</td></tr>
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When I started dating Bill, we gathered our friends together to let them know that our relationship had gone from “just friends” to what we called “other than”. Those gathered who had been my long time friends were a bit hard on Bill, wanting to make sure he was not just taking me for a ride or something like that ☺ I can see it now: Marce, Pam and Jolene sitting at my dining room table, all of them leaning in as they spoke to Bill, reminding him of the hurts I had from the past, reminding him that if anyone dared to hurt me like that again there would be consequences. There were strong words, there were fists pounding the table for emphasis. There were those who stuck up for Bill, but the ones that just were not sure yet of his intentions were pretty loud. And there was Dave, who sat at the head of the table and for sure identified with Bill (since some of Janet’s friends - me included - grilled him a bit when they started dating) and he brought some balance to the table, insuring that no one got injured that day. I recall that it was the first time I really saw him “elding”, taking on the role long before he got the title.<br />
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Bill took it all like the man of God he truly is, willing to endure some scrutiny to win the woman who would eventually become his bride.<br />
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In fact, when Bill asked me to marry him, he followed Dave’s example and did so at church, in front of many of our church friends and Pastor. We were rehearsing for a play, where I had the role of the Virgin Mary, (funny huh) and I was called to the front of the church by the play’s director and there Bill got down on bended knee, recited a poem he wrote for the occasion and asked me to marry him.<br />
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We loved getting together with Dave and Janet and had them in our home often. Dave was grand to cook for as he loved a good meal. I don’t think I have ever cooked for someone who enjoyed it as much as Dave. His signature expression “It doesn’t get any better than this” was most often heard by me in the presence of food.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Huckleberry Delight in East Glacier</td></tr>
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The other place I heard that expression was in the outdoors. He loved nature and we were fortunate to go to Glacier Park with he and Janet. He had been there over 18 times and was phenomenal in his knowledge of the place. You name a trail and he will tell you how long it is, the elevation and the time it would take to get there and back. And he always had a story about it.<br />
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He planned our trip out almost by the hour, especially the train ride. He had taken the 36 hour train ride for all his Glacier visits and knew the scenery we would pass and at what time. We had dinner at the second seating in the dining car so we could see the sunset. We sat in the observation car at a certain time because we would be passing the sunflower fields. Miles of bright yellow sunflowers, waving at us in the wind as we passed. Oh, it was a sight to see and well worth planning for.<br />
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As we were hiking through the trails, Bill and Janet would often go faster and get ahead. Dave always walked beside me and never let me walk alone. I would tell him he could go ahead, I would keep them in my sight (one of the hiking rules he taught us was to never lose sight of your group) because I thought for sure he was going slower for me. But he said “No Sue, I always hike at a slower pace” and I believed him. He took the time to enjoy the journey, smell the fresh air and notice the smallest details. On a particularly difficult trail that had a lot of uphill climbing I stopped as we stood before yet another climb. As I caught my breath I asked him if our destination, “Hidden Lake” was worth it. Because at that point, I was ready to just find a rock to sit on and let them go ahead. With great sincerity in his voice, he said it was. I trusted him, so I pushed on. We got to the higher ground and were greeted by mountain goats and the beautiful view into the valley where Hidden Lake was. A small, beautiful lake surrounded by trees and mountains. It took my breath away, not from exhaustion, but from the beauty. I had never seen anything like it and treasure the memory.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hidden Lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">East Glacier with Dave and Janet - not Hidden Lake, but another beautiful one</td></tr>
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Walking the trails with Dave meant you got to see things that your inexperienced eyes would have surely missed. Flowers, animals, streams that were hidden. Dave knew they were there and it helped to keep you going. Sitting on rocks near crystal clear waters of streams tucked away in a place it seemed only Dave knew about. Dipping your hot, tired feet into the cool stream was like a piece of heaven. The sound of the water lulling you, pulling you into its spell of wonder and contentment. It was hard to get up sometimes and move on.<br />
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One day we were walking the trail past a small body of water and Dave stopped us and pointed - there was a moose almost completely covered in water, but he had seen just a part of him sticking out. As we watched in silence, this huge moose lifted its head and body out of the water. For a girl who’s picture of a moose was “Bullwinkle”, this large creature was unbelievable and beautiful. Of course we just watched from our place on the trail, as clearly the moose could have run us over without batting an eye. Priceless. Dave was a wealth of knowledge and it was fueled by his love of this place.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">East Glacier</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">East Glacier</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">East Glacier</td></tr>
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We have trails that wrap around foothills near our house in Escondido. Not quite the massiveness of Glacier National Park, but beautiful still and I would have loved to share them with Dave and whenever we walk them I think of him. Bill reminded me that when we walk them, Dave is there with us. I believe that.<br />
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Dave was pretty quiet in his manner until he laughed. Wow. His laugh was loud and boisterous - almost sinister - I loved it. But when you saw his smile as he laughed you knew there was no darkness in it, just joy.<br />
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None of us are perfect and Dave was no exception. He was human and struggled as we all do. He tended to “brood” about things at times and it was hard to get through when he felt that way.<br />
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One of those situations was when some things were changing at our church. It was a transition in pastors, in leadership and direction. To explain it all would take away the focus from my intent, which is Dave, so I will be brief in my description. I mention it because it happened in the last years of his life and I believe it to be very significant.<br />
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This part of my story is the one I struggle with the most. Because it affected me so deeply, I know my view is biased. Honestly, there are some things that still anger me about what happened. I have had several re-writes on this part, and hopefully I have curbed the anger enough to allow the heart of the matter to come through.<br />
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I had been a part of the church for 20 years, Dave not far behind. It was a crazy time of deception, lies and coverup. Certain leaders felt they were accountable to no one and many were unwilling to confront them. Those that chose to were labeled as traitors. Now, some of our core beliefs were transparency and shared leadership, so when the deception came to the surface, it was a huge blow to the church. Scripture was cast aside as were the teachings that came from our pulpit over the years - all of a sudden, certain people did not have to follow the teachings of Christ.<br />
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Dave was head elder, so these things impacted him in many ways. I know there were many hurts during this time for Dave and he took it hard. Lots of people behaving badly and treating the people who loved them badly. He took a sabbatical from church. It was a dark time for us. We went to Dave and Janet for direction. They opened their heart and home to us - something we needed desperately. I talk about it in more detail further on. After a time, he ended up leaving the church and a few months later Bill and I did as well. <br />
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Dave moved on, but many of the hurts and misunderstandings remained hanging out there unresolved. Stubbornness and pride I guess kept people from doing what should have been done. Thankfully, I know he came to much peace about it all in the last year or so of his life. But to me, it remains grievous that he died so soon after all this. My point in sharing this? You never know when your time is up my friends. If there are hurts, try hard to correct them. If there is offense, make a move towards reconciling. You may think you have all the time in the world to make amends, but the reality is - we don’t.<br />
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Around this time I found out that Dave was a gifted writer. I hosted a couple open mics in the lodge at “The Res” in Mishawaka, IN, the nature preserve that he and Janet were caretakers of. Woops, let me get it right - Rangers. (Ranger Dave and Ranger Janet beautified this place and took care of it with great love) Dave read some of his work at one of these open mics and amazed us once again with his depth and beautiful words. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave's open mic performance</td></tr>
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The last time I saw Dave was on his 60th birthday in February 2011. We walked through Pokagon State Park and then went to dinner. Janet and I walked and talked about where do we go next, what is God saying to us. Dave and Bill walked not far behind talking about what men talk about.<br />
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We went for dinner at a favorite place of theirs not far from the park. We had a great time and Dave seemed very much at peace. He talked to us about some ideas he had for the future and was designing a backpack for hikers that he wanted to market. We were surrounded by great food, laughter and dear friends. It just does not get any better than that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">60th Birthday dinner</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I shared this at his funeral:<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>There Is No Better Man</b></span></i></div>
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<i>When we speak of Dave Norris, I must say: Where is there a better man? Can you tell me?<br /><br />There is my wonderful husband who stands above the rest in my eyes – but I am biased.<br /><br />No, outside of my husband, of all the men I have ever met that walk the earth, there are few that could hold a candle to my friend Dave.<br /><br />Dave set the standard for men when he courted his bride Janet. When he proposed to her, he did so in front of his church, on bended knee for all to witness. He wooed his bride the way Christ woos me, with persistence and passion. I knew from that moment I would settle for nothing less than that kind of fearless love and devotion – he set the bar high. <br /><br />And the wooing never ceased as whenever Janet would walk into the room, a grin from ear to ear would be on Dave’s face. And if she was singing - if you were wise, you never tried to speak to him as all his attention was turned towards her, admiring the woman who was his queen. And don’t let him catch YOU talking – you ran the risk of seeing the OTHER side of Dave as he gave you a look that made you know, you don’t want to mess with him.<br /><br />Janet and Dave unlocked the treasures in each other that seemed to be held captive while they were apart. Their joining brought to light all that God put inside them.<br /><br />Dave was an elder, father, servant and friend. He has been all those things to me at one time or another and I am a better person for it.<br /><br />I have so many stories of Dave; From their wedding, trekking through Glacier Park, years of going to church together, and the many meals we shared – and I can’t even get started talking about the love we shared of coffee…its hard to choose just one. <br /><br />I share one that changed my life and encompasses who Dave is. A couple years ago my heart was broken in ways I never imagined possible. At the time, Dave and Janet were elders at our church, as well as our friends. We sought Janet and Dave out for direction and wisdom. They welcomed us into their home, and as I sat before them, broken, hurt and confused, Dave said, “Let’s talk about things not as elder and congregant, but as friends, because that’s what we are”. He had no idea how badly we needed to hear those words. There was no “posturing” in Dave, no invisible rules to follow because he held a title. He never chided us for questioning, but understood our pain and offered comfort, support and prayer. Dave saw our need and tended to it. His tender heart, which had also been broken by the circumstances, helped mine to stay tender and not get bitter. Even in his pain, he pointed the way toward Christ. For that, I am forever grateful.<br /><br />There is no better man.<br /><br />April 2011</i><br />
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These writings offer just a glimpse of this man’s story. Dave Norris was a complex man with wonderful gifts and they live on in us. He was real. He was fun. He was caring. He was a great man. He was my friend and I loved him. He is in my heart still and I miss him. I thank God he was in my life and I carry a part of him always.<br />
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Till we meet again Dave; till we meet again...<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-7410216559510523962012-08-15T09:27:00.000-04:002012-08-18T19:49:20.914-04:00Start Me Up...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Start</span> : <span style="font-size: large;">To begin or set out, as on a journey or activity.</span><br /><br />We are always starting over, starting again, restarting, jump starting. As long as it includes the word "start" I am good. Of course, ending can be a good word too, as in the end of the road, end of an ordeal or “The End”. We want to avoid "It ended badly".<br /><br />Starting means there is movement; something happening, possibilities, things to look for ahead. Of course, we can start and never move past that point. Projects we have started, jobs we started, relationships started, education started - but somehow we never followed through.<br /><br />So along with the word start, I like completion. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Completion</span>: Conclusion, fulfillment - having every necessary part or element; entire.<br /><br />We start something and we see it through. Completion can be different than "finished" as we can “Be finished with that" and it may mean we started but never completed something.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Life is a series of starts, stalls, stops, finishes and hopefully completions. Starting and completing one thing always leads to another as we should never be quite "done". To live we must continue on to the next thing, expanding our mind, our views, our love and lives. Life is about movement, expansion, cycles, seasons. <br /><br />I have heard several sermons that included the words "Before God started the world, He finished it", meaning He had it all planned before He put it in motion - made escapes for all our mishaps, solutions for all our problems. No "new" thing we humans think up had not been already perceived by God and He made sure to have a solution for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ponder that periodically. Now, I don't happen to think that it means we have no choice in our lives or that all is "preplanned", therefore making no difference in how we live as it will all end up the same. No I think that what it means is that God has created a place for us to make choices, mistakes, walk paths, explore possibilities and have a great time doing it. Life is a grand journey and there is no "one" road that will take us to our life's purpose. I happen to believe if your road includes a heart felt seeking of God, then you are on the right one. God will take care of the rest.<br /><br />The road you take may be too steep for me and the road I am on may not have enough scenery for you. Thats one of the cool things about God, we are all created uniquely and the possibilities are endless and anything but boring. I don't think the people who believe we all have to do it the same way have read much of the bible, as it is filled with people finding their path and purpose in God many different ways. Jesus was the best example of not doing things the accepted way and His path is the one I choose to follow.<br /><br />One of the great lessons I have learned in life is a quote from a sermon heard many years ago: "All that I know is not all there is to know". A lesson learned more recently is my own quote: "All that <i>you</i> know is not all there is to know". Its the combination of many you's and me's that make it complete. There we are, back to the concept of "completion".<br /><br />Some things take a lifetime to complete, other things can be done in shorter time spans. Your completion of a task may not have the same end result as my completion of that same task. The only sure thing is that the completion of one always leads us to another and our challenge is to recognize where we should focus our energies. We just have to start somewhere.<br /><br /><br />Sue Barnard<br />August 2012</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-66769550750552535002012-04-16T15:48:00.000-04:002012-04-16T15:48:07.931-04:00Untangled....<span style="font-size: large;">I untangled a wind chime that hangs in my yard. Seems a silly thing to write about, but it spoke to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This wind chime is made up of delicate flat circles, formed from shells. They hang from strings of fishing line. There are several strings that hold the shells, making a beautiful tinkling sound as they blow in the breeze. I bought it on a visit to San Diego, one of my favorite places ever, so when I hear it, it brings sweet memories of ocean breezes and sunshine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’ve had it in the house all winter. It had gotten tangled together after a storm last year and I hung it on a hook in our family room until I had a chance to put it right. Since warm weather is here, I decided to take it back outside, but did not take the time to untangle the strings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It still made noise, but it was more of a clanging together, not the peaceful, soothing sound it usually makes. The tangled strings did not allow the shells to move freely, so the sound was harsher and only moved if a strong breeze came by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One morning as I sat outside and sipped my coffee, I took note of the tangled wind chime and the irritating noise it made, and I missed the comforting sound of the past. So, I got up and went to where it hung on my Magnolia tree branch. The strings looked hopelessly tangled and clumped together, impossible to set free again. I determined I would figure out the mess of these strings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I picked a “clump” of tangled shells and pulled a bit and it only seemed to make it worse, so I lightened my grip and watched how they fell and could see the path the twisting took. There were 3 or 4 of the lines twisted together and as I carefully held them, and took the weight off the string, I began untwisting them and one string at a time they came lose and fell free. As I freed one clump, I went to the next, once again, taking the weight off the string, finding the start of the tangle and working my way up to the top of the string. Finally, all the strings were free and the shells hung unencumbered, each one able to move on its own to the breeze. Once again, the sound was one of beauty and harmony, not a clacking noise. The chimes were able to fulfill their intended purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I sat back and enjoyed the familiar sound of my treasure, I thought of me. How I can get to be a tangled mess and there seems to be no way to make sense of me. I am functioning, but not really how I want to – I am weighted down by life and worries and stuff. I am as a “noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” Paul talks about in 1
Corinthians because I may be speaking, but it is without love. You know I’m here, but
you’d rather I wasn’t for the awful noise I am making. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully,
those that love me take the time to gently pick me up and see where I am
stuck. Helping me to carry the weight of life, they patiently untangle and help me to be free once again allowing my true sound to come through.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-53802408106705070772012-03-28T19:59:00.004-04:002013-09-24T00:27:38.801-04:00A Day To Remember...<span style="font-size: large;">March 28, 2012. Today would have been my oldest sister Carol’s 70th birthday. Hard to believe she has been gone almost 5 years.<br /><br />She died way too young at age 65 in April of 2007. Carol had respiratory problems as a result of smoking for many years. Sickness got to her that year and she could not recover. She left behind a story and its important to remember.<br /><br />Carol had been living next door to us with my mom for several years when she died. This came about after her husband died and she had to get rid of her house. The plan was for her to help care for my mom (who was also ill with respiratory problems - damn cigarettes). It was beneficial for both of them. Mom could still live somewhat independently because she would have help and Carol needed a place to live. But soon it was clear that Carol needed almost as much care as my mom.<br /><br />Thinking of Carol brings so many memories to my mind, many of them painful and sad. Carol was married twice and neither husband treated her well. She and her wife-beating first husband were a big part of my childhood. No child should see or be exposed to the things I was witness to. Seeing Carol’s abuse and chaos shaped and formed much of my world back then and the imprint is still with me to this day. Even as a kid I knew that what they called “marriage” was whacked. One year I gave Carol a sympathy card to commemorate her wedding anniversary instead of celebratory card. I got in a bit of trouble with my mom for that one. I may have only been 11 years old but I was sure that their relationship was nothing to celebrate.<br /><br />Her second marriage was no better in my mind. Her second husband beat her as well and abused her children. During those years I was busy raising my own family and did not see Carol as often. But we only lived a couple blocks away from each other and there were many a night she and her girls walked over to my house after Carol suffered a beating. She and her girls would stay for a few days, he’d call and apologize. They would talk on the phone for hours. God how I wanted her to walk away from this marriage as well, but she never did. She ended up taking care of him till the day he died.<br /><br />I had the privilege of being Carol’s caretaker till she died. I was not the “Florence Nightingale” type, I was more the “Nurse Ratched” style. Of course, my heart was not made of stone as Nurse Ratched’s was. While on the outside it appeared easy for me to bark out reminders to do her exercises, eat right and not throw her money away, on the inside I was mush. My heart broke for her over and over again because I knew the wounds of her life. Caring for her put me smack dab in the middle of her complicated life and personality. Carol was a very complex individual and dealing with her complexities could stretch you till you were ready to snap. There was many a day I wanted to throw in the towel with her because she seemed determined to continue on a destructive path. <br /><br />But God. He gave me patience, compassion and determination in dealing with Carol. Did she know of the many, many tears I cried after some of our conversations? Not just tears of frustration, but tears of sorrow. Even though I could get pretty angry at Carol, I was still very aware that while I may have witnessed the abuse, she was the one it happened to. She bore the mental and physical scars and God made sure He reminded me often.<br /><br />I was also very aware that Carol had to live with the knowledge that some of the choices she made were selfish. Because of that, others were hurt. She allowed her children to be in harms way and that is something that I don’t think she ever truly got over. <br /><br />We talked many times about these things and as I said, my role was to stay strong and urge her to look ahead. Be the best she can be now. All my pushing and prodding was to keep her moving and alive. If I had anything to say about it, her latter years were going to be more stable and safer than her earlier life.<br /><br />Carol’s life impacted me forever. She was my big sister and I loved her. On this day that would have been her 70th birthday I remember her with that love and share the eulogy I wrote for her funeral.<br /><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Carolyn Hartz Eulogy April 2007</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />A funeral is a time to speak well of the departed, to remember the good times, the stories, the memories. But for me, funerals are more than just remembering someone’s past. Since it puts in the forefront a life that has ended, it is also a time to look at the life I am living and asking the question “am I living it well?”<br /><br />But first, we focus on Carolyn. Even though I grew up calling her Carol, she loved being called Carolyn. I have to say that I am sure Carol is in heaven now. She knew God and loved Him I believe. So, we rejoice that her suffering has ended as her eternity has begun. She has left behind all that was dark in this world to embrace the love and acceptance of our heavenly Father.<br /><br />Carol’s life was not an easy one, as it rarely is for any of us. But hers was especially difficult and wrought with much heartache and struggle. Some of the struggles were the result of the choices she made, but much of it was at the hands of others who mistreated her. Finances were never plentiful and at times her relationships with family and children were full of friction. But, Carol was a survivor. And if put in the same circumstances she went through, many of us here would have given up long ago or been committed to an asylum. But Carol kept going, getting up each day to face a world that could be very cruel. And she did it with a smile.<br /><br />Carol was my oldest sister, so she has always been a part of my life. There were different seasons of relationship between us. Sometimes I was just the “kid sister”, other times a friend and peer. But mostly my purpose in her life was prodder, defender and sometimes rescuer. Early on in my life with Carol, because of the knowledge I had of her life and what went on in it, God put fierceness for her in me. My Pastor describes it as “booger love” – you just can’t shake it off even if you wanted to. And believe me, especially in her latter years, I am sure there were times Carol wanted to “shake” me off of her.<br /><br />Because of her close proximity to my house as a kid, we started sharing things early. She lived just two doors down from me, and she was the “cool” big sister who let us get away with way too much. My life with Carol was one of sharing many firsts: first cup of coffee, first cigarette, first real serious thoughts about God. Carol was raised in the Catholic Church and as a child I attended church with her. I was mesmerized with many of the rituals she practiced, dipping of the finger in the holy water, kneeling at the pew, the mysterious act of communion. Much of my early introduction to church and God was through Carol.<br /><br />Some of you may not know it, but Carol was a bowler in her younger years. As a child, I remember standing at the bathroom door, looking up at her with wonder as she would transform herself from “at home” Carol to “going out” Carol, while getting ready on her bowling night. She would stand in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing her bowling shirt, applying makeup and teasing her hair into a “poofy” hill. There were several steps in this transformation and each one done in a particular order each time. I knew she was done when she would pick up the big, metal can of hairspray. With a long, lit cigarette hanging from her freshly painted lips, eyes squinting from the rising smoke, she would apply large quantities of hairspray to keep it all in place. I was fascinated, and stood close to watch, having no clue of the dangers of mixing aerosols and fire together.<br /><br />It was one of many “rituals” Carol practiced. Things having to be done in a particular way at a particular time and to deviate from that could bring much protest on her part. It was one of the curiosities of Carol; regimented order in a life that at many times was composed of chaos.<br /><br />Carol liked to have things around her, lots of things, close at hand. Crochet projects, crafts, suduko books; STUFF. For the last few years, Carol has lived with my mom in a house next door to mine, so I was in their home often. Surely one of the things we had issue with between us was her insistence on having her whole existence within arms length – and Carol had a LOT in her existence. But what I perceived as clutter were things that were important to her, and for some reason she always had to have them close; perhaps to keep them safe, to know they were there and would not be cast aside. So, I imagine her now, in her heaven with unlimited access to yarn, unopened mail, Avon and puzzle books.<br /><br />One thing I admired about Carol was that she never tried to hide the fact that she needed people. She was very social and not afraid to approach someone she didn’t know to greet them and perhaps take the opportunity to “grill” them a bit. She loved to know about you – it truly interested her and she had a memory like a steel trap and could recall information most people would have overlooked. And if you discussed something with her and there were facts she did not know, you could be pretty sure in your next conversation Carol would be prepared and have the missing information at hand.<br /><br />I must confess to you Carol’s assertiveness in her social dealings was not something I always appreciated. About 8 years ago (1999), I had just begun to date my husband Bill and was bringing him to a family event for the first time. Being scrutinized by someone’s family can be nerve wracking, and Carol’s aggressiveness could be a little daunting before you got to know her. I knew this guy was quite a catch and did not want to scare him away before we were solid! So, certain family members were put on “Carol watch”, and were to be ready to intervene and divert Carol’s attention if Bill started to look scared by her “assertiveness”. As it turns out, I had nothing to fear. Bill held his own with Carol and they sparred many times on many different subjects. He loved her and spent weeks renovating the home she shared with my mom. He never balked at caring for her and welcomed her into our lives.<br /><br />Carol, while small in frame, was strong in spirit and will. People could be fooled by her petite looks, thinking that she was timid. But anyone who had cause to deal with Carol could tell you that she had very strong opinions on a multitude of issues and had no problem telling you that.<br /><br />As I said before, my role in Carol’s life was not that of a typical sister. Nice was not my portion with Carol. Kindness, caring, loyalty, protection, encouragement and of course deep love; but not always nice. Her loving heart and her need to be loved resulted in not always using the best judgment in making choices for her life. For some reason, God saw fit to allow me to see into Carol’s heart, to understand her, even if I did not always agree with her. He gave me the strength to not care if I was not liked by other people (including Carol at times) in going to great lengths to keep her active and helping her make wise decisions. Tough love it was at times, and I have no doubt she knew that even though it was tough, it was love nonetheless.<br /><br />But God balanced my wrath with others who came along side with amazing grace and I want to say thank you to some people that I know made an impact on Carol’s life. I am sure there are many more that I don’t know about, but these are the ones on my heart.<br /><br />My sister Patty was actually a combination of both fierceness and grace for Carol. Because this is a funeral, and a eulogy, some stories of Carol’s life are best told over a cup of coffee, or perhaps a stiff drink, so I won’t give all the details of the story, but just enough for you to get the point. When we were kids, there was an incident at Carol’s house. A madman broke into Carol’s home and, while I had run and hid in a closet with her young daughters Cathy and Mary, my sister Patty, a young teenager, stood holding only a broom as a weapon between Carol and this intruder. I will never forget the image as I peered out of the closet I was cowering in, seeing Patty’s 5 foot frame facing this 6 ft plus man. I could see the fierce look in her eyes and knew if he had taken a step closer, Patty would have defended Carol to the death. But 40 years later, this same woman came as an angel helping Carol face yet another giant in her life, when Carol had to move out of the house she had lived in for over 20 years. As it has been mentioned, Carol had lots of stuff. She was moving into an apartment and had to downsize drastically. I was losing patience in the sorting process because Carol was reluctant to get rid of most things for one reason or another, and I was ready to just throw everything out! But then suddenly, Patty the angel appeared and as I, along with my daughter Shay and sister Jackie, worked at throwing things out in one room, Patty graciously listened to Carol’s stories about each possession and who gave it to her, the story behind it and what it meant to her, as they decided whether to keep it or give it away. Because it was important to Carol, it was important to you Patty, and that is true love.<br /><br />Then there is my Mom: A mother always, caring for her child, always wanting the best for her. At all times generous with your children, you gave above and beyond with Carol. At an age when most parents are only thinking of their own retirement and Florida condos, you made sure the last years of Carol’s life were not a struggle and put her needs above your own. That is the unselfish love of motherhood – that is the love of God.<br /><br />Catherine: Taking care of her in the most intimate way possible, bathing her, looking out for her, alerting me with health concerns. You guys fought over housekeeping, but you know she loved it. Your spunkiness gave her a reason to get up every morning. <br /><br />Her Church. Carol loved this church and it’s people. It was a lifeline to her and gave her strength and community.<br /><br />Many of my memories of Carol have the picture of a cigarette hanging from her mouth. In the end, this would come back to haunt her and slowly, but surely steal something we take for granted everyday - the ability to breathe. I have been asked not to preach on the evils of smoking; so I will not say all that I would like to on this subject; but I will say this: I hear many excuses of why people can’t quit - stress in their life, I have been smoking so long, on and on, and having been a smoker at one time myself, sympathize. But I must point out that Carol, after over 30 years of smoking and at one of the most stressful times in her life, while facing cancer, chose to quit. Even though others around her chose to keep smoking, which as any smoker will tell you is one of the hardest roadblocks in quitting, she still managed to rid herself of cigarettes.<br /><br />Carol’s life had purpose and meaning. While not always the dream life I am sure she had hoped for, she still kept hoping, kept going in the best way she could. She left behind many memories and shared much of herself with so many. Without her in my life, I would not be who I am – and I LIKE who I am, and am a better person for having known her. I have witnessed abounding grace to a depth I did not know was possible, I have learned that loving someone is not always easy and does not always include the word “nice”. I have seen the power of God at work over and over in places that seemed hopeless; I have learned patience and compassion far beyond what was possible in my own flesh.<br /><br />So, in closing, I go back to the beginning of my eulogy and ask, “am I living my life well?” Have I fulfilled the purpose God put me on this earth to fulfill? Am I at peace with myself and those around me? What lives have I touched? Tomorrow is not promised to us and if this was my last day on earth, would I be able to say, “I’m ready to go”. If I left this earth realm today, would I be pleased with what I have left behind? Is God pleased with what I left behind?<br /><br />As I ask these things, I not only think of myself, but I think of her children. My mantra to your mom in regards to you was always this: The best thing you can do for your kids is to get healthy and stay healthy. Not just in body, but in mind and soul. Be an example to them of a life lived well. Put behind the past and live today; today be the best mom you can be. The best thing you can do for your children is to be an example. The example your mom left you is that she fought; she did not always triumph in the ways we would think a victory should look, but she did fight. So, cry your tears of grief, but let them cleanse and refresh you - tears without purpose are just waterworks. The best way to honor your mom is to live well, to live a life that is full of loving and giving. That will bring a smile to her face.</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-43639867103593272302012-03-22T17:06:00.000-04:002012-03-22T17:06:31.927-04:00Spring Has Sprung...<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_FNBwcwWf_I/T2uSzbBmNhI/AAAAAAAAAS0/0qk9D_FW-us/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="93" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_FNBwcwWf_I/T2uSzbBmNhI/AAAAAAAAAS0/0qk9D_FW-us/s200/photo.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hO1EKqxW35U/T2uSuiJ4WJI/AAAAAAAAASs/GoK0-ULYez4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hO1EKqxW35U/T2uSuiJ4WJI/AAAAAAAAASs/GoK0-ULYez4/s200/photo.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Spring has sprung in South Bend, Indiana. Or is it summer?<br />
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Its only March, yet the thermometer climbs to the 80s and at night I am running the fan because I am so hot! Where am I?<br />
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The trees are budded for leaves, the magnolias are in bloom, crocus' are up, robins are nesting and the grass is green. It seems like it was winter one day and spring the next, not the normal segue.<br />
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Now mind you, I am not complaining about it. I live for spring and summer, as the winters in the Midwest absolutely exhaust me. I have written before about how it seems the older I get the harder it is to get through the cold and snow. But this winter was so mild it was hardly a blip on my screen. I may have worn boots a few times and sure I had my winter gloves out, but I think my fall jacket got me through, never really needing to break out the heavy stuff. We had a couple of storms, but one of them was while we were spending the holidays in San Diego, so we missed it completely. Thank you Jesus. <br />
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Because of the "early" spring, we are a bit unprepared. Our outdoor furniture remains in the garage, as does the grill. In the back of our minds is the thought there has just got to be one more snow storm on the way, so we have waited. I am thinking we should just take the plunge and haul it all out. It will be able to take a beating or two in case our fears pan out.<br />
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Which brings me to my thought for today - being ready. Ready for what you might say...well, ready for anything. Not just ready, but willing and able.<br />
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As this warm weather hit, one of our first responses was to sit outside, especially if we were out to eat. We go to our favorite local place, Fiddlers Hearth, and sit on their patio. We went to our regular wine tasting and sat outside with good friends Don and Kathy last week. We watched the sunset, enjoy the bird songs. Its lovely. But we are amazed that no one else is joining us. Really? Its March and its almost 80 degrees! You are content to stay inside?<br />
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I am a freak about eating outside anyway. It "got" me years and years ago in Newport, RI. I was there with my sister-in-law Billie for my brother Greg's "Officer Training School" graduation. We had traveled from Indiana with their two young children one spring. The weather was mild and many of the restaurants had outside seating. The coolest ones were places where the whole front of the restaurant opened up, bringing the outdoors in. I was hooked. I never wanted to eat indoors again, especially if it was by a body of water!<br />
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I even have plans for one day having an indoor/outdoor kitchen. I have seen beautiful pictures of kitchens that open to the outdoors not just for eating, but for cooking as well. Not just grills, but stoves and ovens too. Now, thats what I am dreaming of.<br />
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So, my love for eating outdoors is clear. And I don't expect everybody to share that love. However, in a part of the country where good weather is limited, I do expect people to embrace the gift we are experiencing right now. <br />
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I have really been thinking about this, as it has happened several times since this warm weather hit. (I am working full time right now and not cooking much, so we go out often of late) Its just one of those silly everyday experiences that God uses to get my attention and teach me something.<br />
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Whats He saying now? Be ready. Things can change when you least expect it and you need to be ready. Ready for what? Well, ready to take advantage of whatever opportunity that change is presenting. The change before you may not last very long, so enjoy it while its here.<br />
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See, I think thats one reason people aren't taking advantage of this warm weather. They think its not going to last (like us not getting our patio set up). Why get your hopes up for something that is fleeting? Well, because you may experience something in that short time that will change your life, or someone else's. Then a fleeting moment becomes an eternity moment. But you have to be ready and willing.<br />
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Not taking advantage of this weather means you are missing some beautiful sunsets, bird dances and early blooms. Of course, its not just the weather that is changing, but other things in our lives as well. Are we embracing the changes or do we still have our winter gear on, shielding us from any fluctuation in our circumstances? Are we staunchly looking at the calendar and saying "its not that time" or are we willing to bend and be open to something out of the ordinary?<br />
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My prayer is that God will help me to see those openings- the "worm holes" that will take me to another dimension to experience something unusual. I am certainly out of my "normal" comfort zone lately with this working thing. There are some things I love about it and some things I hate. But its gotten me to start paying better attention to a lot of things. Its taught me that even though I have been "out of the mix" for quite a while, I still "got it" and I can run with the young dogs. I am not too old to learn, not too impatient to teach and I still have lots of ideas yet to bring to reality. </span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-88215982844907383492011-11-10T08:39:00.000-05:002011-11-10T08:39:21.905-05:00The Glory...<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I came across this recently while I was looking through my open mic folder. I have never shared it publicly, but must have thought about it since it was in there.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I was reading through it, I was reminded of the peace that surrounded me as I wrote it and it came upon me again as I spoke the words. So many of my people need that peace right now, I thought I would share it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This was written in January of this year while I was visiting my mother-in-law and Bill was home preparing to leave for Africa.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Glory</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The glory of God surrounds me as I sit outside a coffee shop in Southern California. Even though there is a parking lot in front of me and a freeway below me, I sense the beauty and fullness of my creator.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R8KCCc1pwAY/TrvQZiH20BI/AAAAAAAAARw/3YoQdThvh3w/s1600/IMG_9310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R8KCCc1pwAY/TrvQZiH20BI/AAAAAAAAARw/3YoQdThvh3w/s200/IMG_9310.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is in the sun that rises before me and almost blinds me from its brightness, but I will not move – because it is part of the glory. It represents the light of God that continually shines in our darkness. As it rises it reminds me that it is always there - sometimes we have to wait for it…be patient…know what time it is…have faith. His light is always there, we just have to make sure we walk in its path.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f9l57ObBc80/TrvQevuX3FI/AAAAAAAAAR4/lCFC8eASo7E/s1600/IMG_9309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f9l57ObBc80/TrvQevuX3FI/AAAAAAAAAR4/lCFC8eASo7E/s200/IMG_9309.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0wt_tDmLSF4/TrvQk_tAw3I/AAAAAAAAASA/5TJFTkb91Ao/s1600/IMG_9311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0wt_tDmLSF4/TrvQk_tAw3I/AAAAAAAAASA/5TJFTkb91Ao/s200/IMG_9311.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">His glory is in the fact that it is January, yet here I sit outside. The “normal” calendar I am used to back home in Indiana has little effect here. It is winter, but yet it is not. It is chilly but there is no frost or snow in my view and to me that is amazing and glorious.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God’s glory is in the emails I have read this morning from my dear friend Daniel. His encouraging words that urge us to focus on the power of God inspire me and lift my spirit even higher. Is this possible?</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God’s glory is in the voice of my beloved as I spoke to him this morning on the phone…so many miles away, but yet so near as there is no separation between our hearts that are linked in spirit, soul and body. That even though his location in body is far from mine at this moment, I sense his love for me and know it is true and strong. It is especially strong as I sit here because he is the one that introduced me to this wonderful place while we were courting. Because we share that bond, whenever I am here I am reminded of the early days of our love and it feeds the great love that we share today. It is a love that has grown and not stagnated, always expanding in its depth and purpose.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God’s glory is in the wonder in my heart as I contemplate how good God is to me - that He has always been good to me. That I am loved, I am favored, I am treated so well by a Father that is full of love for me. He cares about what I care about, He makes my path straight and eases my burdens with His kindness and love. This morning as I sit here I sense that He is saying to me <i>“I know your life and the burdens you have carried. My eyes have never been blind to your pain and I was always there and had a plan. I knew my love would be enough for you and healing would be your portion. It pleases me that you are at peace and your life is full of good things. Accept my blessings and share them with others. Be the light that is my glory.” </i>January 18, 2011</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I think back on that day, as I was sitting there and basking in what God was speaking to me, it reminded me that many times the measure of what we get from God has to do with how much we are willing to accept and receive. To believe that His love and blessing are not just for others, but are for US. To know that even in the midst of our turmoil, He has a plan, that there is purpose in our struggles. That just as it pleases us to see our children full of joy and blessed, it pleases HIM to see us that way as well. God desires for us to embrace His love for our own life - thats really the only way we can effectively share it with others. I know, these seem to be simple things and I am probably preaching to the choir, but I am troubled sometimes in speaking with friends how this concept seems so far from them. They will believe for others, but not for themselves.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So these are my thoughts on this cold November day in Indiana. They may have been formed while I sat in the sun of California, but they still live in the winter of the midwest. </span></div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-87826556781036885562011-10-17T10:13:00.005-04:002011-10-17T10:37:36.531-04:00Autumn Dance...<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The season has changed and we are into Fall and not far behind will be Winter, cold and snow. It is the way of the midwest and if you live here you ready yourself to let go of the warmth that summer brings...or you move.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Letting go...it seems that is a word rattling around in my head and heart a lot the past few years. Letting go of anger and disappointment, letting go of some people - not always by choice. Just letting go.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hopefully letting go of one thing opens my arms to embrace something else. That is what I am hoping for in the coming season.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sitting in the sanctuary of my patio recently, I wrote this piece. I shared it at a couple recent open mics and it was well received. Hope you enjoy.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Autumn Dance</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The leaves are falling</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Colors changing, the green leaving, replaced with orange and gold</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I watch them as they drop from the trees</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just a few at first, then they fall in great waves</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But before coming to rest on the ground</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They dance upon the air</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some twirl and swoop</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Others flutter and pause</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They stop in mid air, just floating, floating</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Enjoying the journey, seeming to say “whee, I am flying!”</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are some brave ones that hang on and wait for a strong wind</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And as it catches them they fly high into the air before they give up the ghost and rest on the ground</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Falling further than they would have</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Had they just released when there was less turbulence</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Or maybe, they are not brave at all, but hold on past their time, afraid of the fall</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And the wind leaves them no choice and says “its your turn"</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">However they fall, fall they will and I love the dance as they go</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It reminds me of a snow shower as they flutter by, so many at once</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But instead of a cold wet kiss they bring a sweet scent as they brush past you</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And all the falls of years gone by are stirred inside me and I close my eyes to embrace it</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The sight of the turning leaves brings comfort and sadness</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Comfort in the beauty and sadness in knowing the season of warmth is coming to an end</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Soon the falling leaves give way to falling snow</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And all that is left of autumn are bare branches</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Branches that reach to the sky in surrender</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dark, bare, exposed – no cover to warm them</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They are at the mercy of the season and I identify</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some seasons are dry and cold and you pray for the change</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For now, I will just enjoy the dance</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sue Barnard</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">9-21-2011</span></div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-65073330606388066172011-07-26T19:46:00.004-04:002011-07-28T22:35:52.247-04:00A Table Of Friends...<i>This is a long one folks, trying to condense 30 years into a few paragraphs. It is precious to me, so did not want to cut it short. It is a story I hope you enjoy and can relate to.</i><br />
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Recently, we had a dinner celebration. Our very dear friends Dan and Connie were in town and we had a dinner to give them a chance to see some old friends on their short visit to South Bend. <br />
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We meet at Don and Kathy’s home. They are marvleous hosts and their home is full of comfort and hospitality. There are 14 of us in attendance - a great number to gather around their large dining table.<br />
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Set before us is Goat Cheese and Pesto Torta, Bruschetta and Crostini, Peppadews, German Bologna, Lasagna, and a beautiful Lettuce Salad with lots of goodies hidden in it. For dessert we have NY style Cheesecake and Marce’s White Chocolate Fantasy Cake. We mill around, casually nibbling the appetizers, preparing dinner plates, pouring wine and eventually we gather at the table.<br />
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It’s a complicated story how we all met and got hooked up, but I will try to make sense of it. I would guess that all of us have different versions of the tale, so right up front I will say these are my recollections and I can't guarantee the total accuracy of my 52 year old brain.<br />
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I don’t remember exact dates after all these years, but know that several from this group have been in my life for over 30 years. Some I met through a house church I was attending. We were a small group, but had strong beliefs (the leader of the group was a devout follower of Bill Gothard) and the group was like a family. We not only tended to peoples spiritual need, but financial needs as well. It always amazed me at how generous this small group was and what we were able to accomplish. <br />
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While we were a tight knit group, we could also be a bit volatile, splitting several times over the years, losing a few and picking up others with each divide. I was pretty young when a lot of that was happening, with two young children. I have to admit I did not know what a lot of the “hubbub” was about during these bouts of turmoil, although there were times when I’d pipe up and give my opinion on some things.<br />
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The group was very male oriented in the leadership area. Women had their place and it was pretty much to be at home taking care of their husband, house and children (Thanks Bill Gothard). Not many worked outside the home. If you were not absolutely thrilled to be cleaning your house and tending to your husband’s every need, there was a bit of a stigma that got attached to you (and I imagine a lot of prayers were prayed on your behalf). This attitude really went against the grain of me, as I had some bad vibes from growing up around a dominant, abusive man and I was determined not to follow in some of my relatives footsteps. I remember like it was yesterday at about 11 years old consciously making the decision after witnessing one of the many incidents of abuse my brother-in-law inflicted on my sister Carol, that no man would ever treat me that way. And that was only a part of my story where men were concerned — so, I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder in this area. I am sure the word “rebellious” came up behind a few closed doors when my name was mentioned. I hold no ill towards those who may have felt that way at the time. I don’t know if anyone knew my “whole” story and even if they did, still probably would not have known what to do with me!<br />
<br />
I loved my family, being married and being a mother, but there were certain aspects of homemaking I did not excel in. I was only about 20 or 21 at the time. (I had gotten married at 14 and accepted Christ at 15) Being a mother came pretty naturally to me, but keeping house was a different story. Eventually, I mastered cooking, baking and finances, but never quite got the hang of keeping a neat house. Often I felt inferior to the other women who seemed to have embraced the love of it, while I only dreaded it. I thought that perhaps I had missed getting the “cleaning gene” that came with salvation. Even though several of their homes were often in disarray, as mine usually was, many of the women appeared to get great joy in washing, cleaning and cooking all day. This was not my story and I felt very guilty about it for years.<br />
<br />
When we had fellowship times, I longed to be included in the “male” conversations that were taking place in the living room of the home we met in. The women usually congregated in the kitchen and talked of canning vegetables, raising children and recipes. While these things did interest me, the men were usually talking about Jesus and the things of God, and that interested me much more than water bath canning instructions.<br />
<br />
The house church had been together a while when Dan and Connie came from California to attend the church. Dan and the current "lay" pastor had long been friends. Dan, an ordained minister, eventually took over pastoring. With Dan and Connie as pastors, a whole new world was opened up to me. Connie did not fit the mold of the usual pastors wife (she did not play piano). She was a gifted teacher, as was Dan, and they would share in the pastoring. While she was a very supportive wife, he was also a supportive husband and acknowledged and encouraged her gifts, which were not just in cooking and keeping house. Their marriage was the first I took note of where they truly respected each other. It was a turning point for me. Dan brought an equality to the women of the church that had been missing and it gave me hope for something more.<br />
<br />
As I mentioned before, it is a complicated story with heartaches as well as joys. Anyone who has been involved in organized church for any length of time can imagine some of our struggles. Dan was very different from Tom, the man who started the church, and those differences eventually came to a head and we experienced yet another church split. This time, Dan left and started his own church.<br />
<br />
This was a great struggle for my family. My husband at the time, Dave, really loved Dan. Dan was able to reach him in ways the other men had not been able to. Now, I am not saying the men of the church did not try...they did. But so many of the male bonding activities were centered on sports and Dave was not a sports kind of guy. So sports oriented were the men that we would change our church service time to accommodate watching the Superbowl. He would try to participate at times, but would usually come home humiliated, feeling much the same way I did when it came to housework. He just was not good at it. He liked debating with the men, but his ideas were usually challenges to the “status quo” and not readily accepted. While we were in the same situation as the other couples in the church...marriage, job, kids, etc., we were several years younger and still had that push to challenge things...just because.<br />
<br />
Dan also had a great influence on me. As I mentioned before, he and Connie set a great example for respect and equality in marriage. Her gifts were just as important to highlight as his and he encouraged women to participate in many areas. I attribute my writing and public speaking today to Dan. One day we were having a lively discussion on some things very dear to our heart in his living room (I had graduated out of the kitchen with Dan) and he said to me “Write that down”. I said, “Write <b>what</b> down?” He replied “What you just said, write it down.” I did, and it became an article for a newsletter the church produced called “The Salt Mine”. Not long after that, he asked me to take his place at an event he was scheduled to speak at and could not attend. I felt very honored to be considered to stand in his stead. I have not stopped writing or talking since.<br />
<br />
We ended up attending both churches for a while. The “old” church held great pull to us — we helped raise each others kids, got baptized together, shared our joys and heartaches with each other, prayed together. As I said, I did not quite fit as well as some of the women did, but their influence and encouragement in raising my kids was priceless. I cannot ignore that through this body of believers I learned to study the bible, the importance of community and witnessed the deep love of God. It was a great foundation.<br />
<br />
We eventually chose Dan’s church. Some came with him, others stayed behind, new people were added. We grew and thrived there. It was exciting to be on the ground floor of a new church. This one was more formal in some ways than the old church, as we had a denomination we were under (Assemblies of God), but still met as a “house church”. We rented a local hall on Sundays for our meetings and eventually converted Dan and Connie’s garage into a meeting room as well.<br />
<br />
We kept connection with many of the people in the “old” church. It wasn’t always a deep connection, at times only occasionally seeing each other through various events, but it was always good to see them. Eventually, Dan and Connie left too, moving to a different part of the country (a total of three times in fact), and have settled in Seattle, WA. We have kept in touch all these years consistently and I treasure their place in my life.<br />
<br />
So, we fast forward to today, the table of friends. Many of us now grandparents, some finding their way to attending the same church together again, others no longer attending any “organized” church at all, and Dan, now a newly ordained Anglican minister! Talk about never seeing something coming...that would be it.<br />
<br />
We gather at Don and Kathy’s house, one of the couples whose marriage was birthed in the “old” church and are still together - 33 years now I believe. Amazing. We eat dinner together, and drink wine and sangria. A few of us that arrived early got to partake of Kathy’s famous “Cosmos”...something that probably would not have happened when we were attending church together “back in the day”. While I do remember sharing a bit of wine a time or two all those years ago, it never flowed as freely as it does today. Those of us who chose to partake appear to be moderate, responsible drinkers and it is one of the things we have “grown” in. We also enjoy discussing wines and such and a few of us attend wine tastings together. Some of our group choose not to drink alcohol (lips that touch wine will never touch mine), and no one thinks badly of the other for their choices. Maturity is a wonderful thing.<br />
<br />
Here are the names of those in attendance: Dan & Connie, Don & Kathy, Chuck & Sue S., Barry & Cheryl, Jim & Maggie, Bill & Sue, Mike and Bill P. I will attempt to connect the dots. From the “old” days: Dan, Connie, Don, Kathy, Barry, Maggie, Mike and Bill P. Those grafted in by re-marriage: Sue S., Cheryl, Jim and Bill.<br />
<br />
Don and Kathy have a long dining table in their spacious country kitchen and in the middle of our meal, Father Dan encourages us to tell our stories of meeting Christ. We encourage him to start with his, and since another attendee, Chuck, was instrumental in that, we hear a bit of his story too. Kathy tells her story, which brings her to her connection with Barry, who was friends with the man who would become her husband Don. (It was Barry who introduced them) Maggie shares her story, and her husband Jim, shares his recent health struggles and the wonder of God through it. Then we hear from Cheryl, whose story is quite amazing and reminds us all that it is the love and grace of Jesus that drew us. Throughout the evening we all interject a bit of something, especially after we hear the details again of how some of us got connected. A few help tell another’s story. Believe it or not, I am not talking a whole lot, mostly just drinking it all in and smiling at the wonder of it all.<br />
<br />
I think of how many there had an influence on me as I literally “grew up” amongst them. The connection with Dan and Connie I described earlier. But many here are forever etched on my heart. One of my best friends ever, is Bill P. His story is very deep and early on in our relationship God placed a seed in my heart for him that has planted deep roots that are not easily moved. He was in and out of my life for many years as he would leave church, come back, leave again and eventually left the area and moved to Seattle. But we stayed friends, talking on the phone, writing letters. He eventually found his way back to South Bend and we again went to church together for many years. He is “Uncle Bill” to my kids and a part of most family dinners and events.<br />
<br />
Barry was married to Evie at the time we attended church together and their house became a refuge for me from the chaos of my own. My first husband and I were struggling on many levels and I confided our deep secrets to Barry and Evie, many times late at night after I finished my shift at a local Cantonese restaurant, “Marks”. I would show up on their doorstep bearing leftover Egg Drop Soup and they would say, “Stay a while” and that was my cue to bear my soul. Evie and I became good friends and she was one of the women who really encouraged me in raising my children. <br />
<br />
Barry is forever in my heart for many reasons, but one that stands out is an apology he made to me. During the time we were attending church, we had a pool party at someone’s home. At some point a few of the guys thought it a good idea to start throwing women in the pool. After throwing a couple of the women in, they set their sights on me and grabbed my arms and legs. As they were carrying me to the pool I asked them not to throw me in. I did not do well in water and was not a great swimmer and especially do poorly when it comes to “horsing around” in the water. When I was young, my crazy brother in law, the one that beat my sister, thought it was great fun to hold me under the water one year we were at the lake. A six foot plus man holding a 10 year old under the water against their will and then laughing about it when they finally let the gasping child free can leave a mark - and it did for me. The closer they carried me to the water, the more terrified I got. They ignored my pleas and kept walking towards the pool and when I realized they were going to go through with it, I became hysterical; crying, begging and pleading for them not to. My hysteria must have moved them, because they put me down at the pools edge, leaving me embarrassed at my outburst, yet grateful it had an impact. It hurt me that they would allow me to get to that point and not listen in the beginning, but life went on. Years later, at a church reunion, Barry came to me and apologized sincerely for that day. It meant a great deal to me that even though much time had passed, he still remembered and thought enough of me to make it right.<br />
<br />
There are so many more stories of these friends, these comrades, demonstrating true “agape” love for each other. It was our common love of God that drew us together and it is that same love that keeps us coming back. The years have given us the wisdom to know how precious true friendships are and that relationship is really what God is all about. So many of the “rules” we once thought so important have faded, but what remains is the love.<br />
<br />
So as I sit at the end of the table, listening to these friends, watching, observing - I am pleased. Pleased at who they have become, pleased at who I have become. I no longer consider myself second class because I hate cleaning house. In fact, I have no shame in stating that finally, after many years of dreaming about it, this year I have on occasion hired a housekeeper. <br />
<br />
No longer do the men and women talk separately; we all sit together at one table, equally sharing what is on our hearts. There are no judgements of the “new” spouses, all are welcomed into the mix. I am witnessing dreams being fulfilled and dreams yet to begin. Some of us are still struggling with many things, but some of us have found the peace we were seeking all those years ago. All this warms my heart and I believe, makes God smile. It is life, it is friendship, it is fellowship...it is God.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-35032276555390481282011-06-18T19:09:00.000-04:002011-06-18T19:09:36.010-04:00Long Road...I wrote this piece while contemplating how quickly things can change our lives, especially a heartbreak. One moment all is well and with just a few words, knowledge comes your way that changes everything. Its at those times you just hope you can feel peace again.<br />
<br />
Long Road<br />
<br />
The storm that came through is one that rips hearts<br />
It breaks your dreams and upsets your carts<br />
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I feel whipped and winded, dazed and confused<br />
It came like a tornado and ripped me in two<br />
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It’s a long road back to the calm after the storm<br />
Walking through debris that can cause great harm<br />
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Feelings, heartaches, pain strewn about<br />
Seeing it all before me makes me want to shout<br />
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Shout to the heavens, cry aloud<br />
Scream at the destruction that is all around<br />
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People have been wounded and lives re-arranged<br />
Foundations have crumbled and everything is changed<br />
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The pain of it all seems too much to bear<br />
The reality of it just seems so unfair<br />
<br />
I look for my center, the peace and the quiet<br />
But all I see are the remains of a riot<br />
<br />
My world has been demolished by a raging fire<br />
And there is no trace of the peace I desire<br />
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Where did it all go and can I get it back?<br />
Why couldn’t I defend against this destructive attack?<br />
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Like most storms there was no way to control it<br />
It came and went in what seemed just a moment<br />
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But the power it carried was considerable<br />
The damage it left behind is miserable<br />
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It’s a long road back to the calm after the storm<br />
Searching for the way that will bring me home<br />
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©Sue Barnard 8/2010Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-60039019239205598052011-01-15T19:08:00.000-05:002011-01-15T19:08:38.769-05:00Change...<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">As we head into this new year I contemplated change. I have always been a pretty "adaptable" person and count it as one of my strengths that I can accept and even thrive when faced with change.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In this new year I find myself anticipating great change. I am actually excited at the idea of changes happening in my life and those around me. I am not sure what those changes will be, but I sense they will be positive.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">My contemplation brought about this poem. I hope it inspires you to embrace the changes you face in your life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Change</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am passing from one state to another</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">My form is being transformed, modified and altered</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Things will not be as they are now</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nor will they be as they were yesterday</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Life is changing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">The future course will be different because it will not be left alone</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Life is not about leaving things alone</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">My life is not a protected “eco system” that needs to remain in an uninterrupted state to flourish</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, PLEASE – interrupt my life as it is what keeps me alive</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">My environment grows from change and the constant flow of activity</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">My spirit is renewed at the prospect of something unknown being introduced</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">The challenge of change becomes my victory</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is security in knowing “I can change”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">The change of faces in my life no longer saddens me</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">But is now a spring board to what lies ahead</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am changing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">We can fight change and be stagnant</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Or we can choose to change and expand</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Go with the flow</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">As we embrace change we remain curious</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">We look forward to new things in our lives</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">We don’t fear what lies ahead</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">But we are excited at the possibilities</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Change is coming</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Change is here</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Change is constant</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Change is necessary</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Welcome Change</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">© Sue Barnard</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/6/2010</span></div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-69958764028258069642011-01-02T13:15:00.009-05:002011-01-02T14:20:44.824-05:00Another Year...I started this post in 2010 hoping to publish it before the new year. But, that did not happen. Here it is though, reflections on 2010 and hopes for 2011. Enjoy.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another Year</span></div><br />
Well, it’s a cold December morning and I sit in my living room with my coffee and Isabella by my side thinking it is time to do my year end review. About this time every year I look back on the months past and look forward to the new year ahead. And I always ask myself the questions “What did I accomplish and where am I going?”<br />
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Of course I think of what I did NOT get done either. I did not lose that 50 pounds I had intended, but I did manage to drop about 10 and keep it off. I will count this as a positive, since each year I seem to end it heavier than when it began. I have progressed in my exercise and now do so on a regular basis. The exercise induced hives that have bothered me so for the past few years are manageable and no longer hinder me to the point of inactivity. So while I did not reach my goal, I am at least heading in the right direction. We’ll carry this one over for 2011.<br />
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I did NOT transform my office from chaos to organization. Not even close on that one. I used to be such a filing mavin - not sure when I lost it. It now takes me forever to file things properly and usually happens at tax time rather than throughout the year (much to my husband’s dismay). Although I did purchase a calendar that has a huge “pocket” for each month and used that to put monthly receipts in, so I have some organization. I did however make progress on my photo collection and am 3/4 of the way done. Unfortunately I have been at that point for several months. I was hoping to work on the photos with Anna when she came home for Christmas, but that did not happen.<br />
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Ok, enough of the did nots.... move to the dids.<br />
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I wrote a lot this year, though you could not tell through my irregular blog entries. Most of my writing was journaling and poetry. So much of my poetry is a chronicle of my journey and reflects what I am going through and this year it still contained anger and disappointment about some things in the past, but it also included some fun things and healing. This year I have been even bolder and more honest with my poetry, not afraid any more of who I might offend. For sure the healing was helped along by the venting through my writing. <br />
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I got several opportunities through open mics to perform and hear other artists. I truly enjoy that. The creating of something definitely gives rise to want to share it. When I cook a meal I want people to eat and enjoy it, the cooking of it is not enough. It would be very unsatisfying to prepare a delightful meal and just set it on the table to look at, no one ever partaking of its flavor and nourishment. So too with my writing I find that most times I want to share on some level, even if it is just with Bill or my friend Pam. But usually sharing it with them gives me the confidence to share it to a broader audience and so through this blog or through open mics my creativity has an outlet and gets fed at the same time, as the giving of what I have done urges me to do more. <br />
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Just recently we have done bunches of improvements to the house. Painting in the dining room, bathroom, family room and kitchen. New floor, sink, toilet and shower in the bathroom. New counter tops in the kitchen as well as a new sink. We have begun to wade through our unending supply of “stuff” to try and simplify our lives. Possessing so many things seems to take away from my life rather than add to it and makes me a bit nervous. So we are trying to move away from being collectors of more and leaning into being keepers of less.<br />
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We had people in our home on a regular basis and I love that. Dinners, birthday celebrations, game nights. Family from the West coast came to visit us and I really love that. South Bend is not the fun capital of the world, but we are here so it makes it pretty special. You feel very loved when people come to see you for you. Note to Anna: I really would come to see you even if you did not live in New York ☺ <br />
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Since we are heading into our third year of not attending an “organized” church, these times of gathering and fellowship are so important to us. It reminds me what real church is and feeds me more than sitting in a pew. It’s funny because a few years ago I could not imagine being without a regular church and today I cannot imagine ever going back to one. So many reasons for that, but I will only note a couple. We were taught to be careful with those that were in the “state” I am now, perhaps thinking that they may have a negative effect on us. We were told people not in church “couldn’t take it” or were “out of order”. How sad that our ideas of how God moved were so small. Interesting how walking away from something gives you a clearer perspective. I think its that getting older thing. My over 50 eyes can’t see much clearly unless I hold it away from me...perhaps my older spirit is the same. I hold no ill towards those still part of organized church, in fact, quite the opposite. I remain friends with several people from the church we left and am happy that they find encouragement there. A dear friend of mine is being ordained in the Anglican Church after being a part of several less formal churches. While it may not be my cup of tea, it brings something to him that is vital and I respect and encourage that.<br />
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I loved being in church for over 30 years and encouraged many to find a church they could function in. Without that experience I would not be who I am today. But who I am today is different from who I was before and to quote Stephen King “The world has moved on”, and so I now exist in a different world, just as important, but different. My view of how and where God moves has expanded. Its one of the cool things about God; He is so much bigger and has so many more ideas than we do. Expressing His greatness takes so many forms. So we remain committed to God with all our hearts and pursuing what true church is. We fellowship regularly, give generously, seek wise counsel when needed and desire to do God's will - all because it is in our hearts to do so, not because we are pressured to. If God moved me towards being a part of a church again, I would do so. It just has not happened. <br />
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In 2010, two dear people in my life left this earth realm, Karen and John. Both had been in my life for over 20 years. While I did not see them often the past few years, they were both at one time very present in my life and made an impact that lasts to this day. They both lived to share the love of Jesus and knowing they were walking this earth made me sleep a bit better at night. They died too young in my opinion (me and God have already had several discussions on this) but I rejoice that they are now in paradise with our Savior.<br />
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The year would not be complete without at least one rant, so here is mine. I have done a lot of contemplating about relationships this year. They have always been so important to me and I can be pretty aggressive in my pursuit of them. If God puts someone on my heart, I stay in contact with them and let them know they are loved and often will try to spend time with them. The past couple years have changed that somewhat. I have become a bit weary of those who say they love me and want to see me, but yet don't return phone calls or are always busy. While I accept and embrace my role as a gatherer, I am not as persistent as I used to be if I am always the one making contact. I have come to the belief that about 90% of the time, people do what they want to do no matter what excuses they throw out there. If people want to see me, they will make the time. Of course there are circumstances that can prevent this such as sickness, work, location and such...that is the 10% that is uncontrollable in our lives. But we decide what we will do with most of our time outside of work and if you care about someone or enjoy their company, you make time for it. So, if someone counts my friendship as valuable, they will tend to it. It may not be often, but if keeping in touch with particular people means something to you, it will happen if you want it to. It may mean a regular email, a cup of coffee or even just a phone call or note. It does not always have to be some deep, long conversation. Just letting someone know you are thinking of them goes a long way. So, at this time in my life, if after a couple times you don’t respond to phone calls, invites or emails, I am gonna let that go in most cases. There is a lot more I could say on that, but think I will leave it there.<br />
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I love to travel and did that this year. San Diego to celebrate my sister-in-law Susan’s birthday (which included a delightful stay at a B&B on a beach - thanks Mommy Barnard), Seattle to see our dear friends Dan and Connie Rice (and family) and two trips to New York to see my baby girl Anna. Bill took two trips to Africa for business and we hope that proves fruitful this year. While it is hard to think of him being so far away, it gives me great pleasure because he has such a love for and call to Africa. Seeing him so fulfilled brings me great joy.<br />
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How can I review the year without mentioning my children? They are my heart and soul. I wrote a very deep piece about my wonderful kids earlier in the year, so I won’t go on here about it. I just have to say I love them all to pieces and am so proud of them. Shay and Job have blessed with me grandchildren and they are awesome parents. It is a whole other post to do that justice, so I will leave it at that.<br />
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As I have written about before, seasons are very deep and moving to me and I make note of their coming and going. God uses them to teach me, remind me and encourage me. The great thing about seasons is that they always change, so as I go through a struggle it gives me hope as I know it will pass and change. It can also be sobering as well, as I see those around me change, move on and sometimes out of my life. It can bring melancholy to realize something has ended. But then the newness of spring comes around the corner and I see that God will bring other things into my life that require my attention and love and the cycle of life continues.<br />
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I am very aware at the end of this year I am 52 years old. It is not just the calendar that reminds me of this - my body that aches more than it used to, my eyes that require ever stronger lenses to function properly and my mind that notes most likely I have more past than I have future on this earth. I am not anxious about that, but it does make me think more about what I am doing and where I am going. Tomorrow is never promised to any of us and no matter what your age we could be gone in a flash. So it is important that we live life always to the fullest and pursue our hopes and dreams. You can keep saying "someday I will do this" or you can just do it (I say as I look in in the mirror). Live each moment with purpose and passion.<br />
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Whats in store for 2011? More steel cut oats and less sugar. Writing, writing, writing. Taking my vitamins everyday. Sitting less and moving more. Cooking more but eating less. The ocean. Size six jeans. New things, new places. Getting rid of more "stuff". Another hope for 2011 is to connect with you all more often through postings and in person. I love to get feedback from you and hear your thoughts on what I have shared and what is going on in your life.<br />
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I will leave you with a poem I wrote the last week of 2010. I really like for my work to be heard, as well as read, as much of the heart of my writing is in the way its delivered. So, I have included a link to the spoken version. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Stepping Back and Moving Forward</span></div><br />
The day after Christmas, 2010<br />
2011 all set to begin<br />
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This year as I sit the tree lights are dark<br />
When I came downstairs I left them off<br />
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No candles are lit, no music is playing<br />
Just the thoughts in my head continuously swaying<br />
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Presents have been given and presents received<br />
Knowing that its over brings great relief<br />
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I love Christmas, don’t get me wrong<br />
But once its over I’m ready to sing the “New Year” song<br />
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I want to move past the year thats ending<br />
Lean into the new one just beginning<br />
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This year I will review several times in my mind<br />
The events of my life will hit rewind<br />
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What did I accomplish, what did I learn?<br />
Was the respect of my Father God earned?<br />
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I have no complaints, my life is grand<br />
Most struggles I face I have the upper hand<br />
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The ones that still grip me I keep trying to rise above<br />
Remembering I am surrounded by great love<br />
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This year I have traveled to both coasts, I have celebrated life<br />
Had family visit our home, I remain a faithful wife<br />
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I get along with my siblings, my kids and my spouse<br />
We spent lots of time improving our house<br />
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There is much to be grateful for in the life that is mine<br />
Blessings I don’t have to look far to find<br />
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A few glitches remain, a few things undone<br />
A family member sent me a letter that was pretty glum<br />
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I was told to “back off” and step away<br />
So I will “step back 5” and give you your space<br />
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I am stepping back so I can move forward<br />
Gain some momentum to get past the absurd<br />
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The older I get the less drama I need<br />
“Life is short and I want to enjoy it” is my creed<br />
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You don’t have to like, love me or care<br />
I have learned that life is not always fair<br />
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People will treat you like shit<br />
Even if you don’t deserve it<br />
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All I can do is be who I am<br />
Try my best to walk out God’s plan<br />
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You can share my life, or you can shun and forget me<br />
Either way I’m not going to park inside your misery<br />
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I’ll love, help, pray and hug you<br />
But I’m not going to sing the blues<br />
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God can light a path for us to walk<br />
But we gotta choose it and do more than just talk<br />
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All that talk but nothing changes<br />
Will keep our lives dark and estranged<br />
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Tomorrow is not promised and like I said life is short<br />
My hopes and dreams I will not abort<br />
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The coming year brings promise and hope of new things<br />
On that high my soul takes wing<br />
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So good bye old year, and all we’ve had to endure<br />
Hello 2011, you’ll be good to us sure<br />
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© 2010 Sue BarnardSuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-19958737314061143462010-08-24T14:59:00.006-04:002011-01-02T18:19:23.653-05:00Letter to my 16 year old self....<i>A dear friend of mine, Joanna Roddy, and some of her friends have asked people to participate in a "simul-blog", where several people post on the same topic on the same day. The subject is "A Letter To My 16 Year Old Self". Here is a link so you can read the others who are joining in. http://seattleiteimagery.blogspot.com/ Her blog is Roddylife http://roddy-life.blogspot.com/2010/08/letter-to-my-16-year-old-self.html and I highly recommend it.</i><br />
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Wow. That’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of my 16 year old self. Wow.<br />
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Since I am 51, a bit more time has passed for me than most of you sharing in this “simul-blog”, so a lot more stuff has happened since I was 16. Many of you are just starting families, my kids are all grown. But I certainly remember being 16 and all that came with it. So, I am going to give this a shot. Well, first let’s think of where I was at 16....<br />
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At 16 I was already married and had a daughter, Shay. We had settled into family life and had even purchased our own home (after I went to court and gave up my rights as a minor so I could legally sign the contract). I was learning to cook, bake and make a home.<br />
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The home we purchased was just a couple blocks from where I went to middle school, so every morning kids just a bit younger than me walked past my home on their way to school. I have to admit it was a struggle watching them go off to classes with cares that at the time you think are monumental (boyfriends, bullies, where are we going for lunch), but compared to the cares that came with marriage and kids, I looked at them and thought “they have no idea”.<br />
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But, what would I say to myself knowing what I know now? Here goes:<br />
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The first thing my 51 year old self wants to tell you is that you will be ok. There will be times when you will be ready to lose your mind, and you will even have a couple of nervous break downs, but you are going to get through them. You will think you are alone, that no one understands you and that you are unloved, but are going to be ok. The person I am now, is because of who you were back then.<br />
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God loves you. No, Sue, I mean it, He REALLY loves YOU - just as you are. In fact, He made you the way you are...really. He loves you as you are now and the person you will become. HE LOVES YOU.<br />
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Be grateful. Be very grateful. Don’t focus on what you DON’T have, but what you do and know that the possibilities ahead of you are endless. Be grateful everyday, several times a day. <br />
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Right now, your meals consist of pretty simple stuff as your cooking skills are nil. One day, you will be a wonderful cook. And, you have taught each of your children to be wonderful cooks - so when you are old, you will not starve.<br />
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After you have your second baby (in about a year or so from now) your mom is going to tell you that you are too skinny. Don’t listen to her. In just a few years she is going to do an about face and every time she measures your hips for a new garment she is making she will say “Oh Susie!” as she looks at the tape measure and your growing hips. Weight is harder to lose the older you get.<br />
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Believe in yourself and don’t be intimidated by what you don’t know, but do everything you can to learn what you need to know. You will not have many people you can identify with because of your early motherhood, but don’t be discouraged. Even though it seems like many of the people around you talk “down” to you, underneath they really do admire your courage and maturity. They respect you and you should respect yourself.<br />
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God loves you.<br />
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Your love of reading will pay off, so keep on reading whatever you can get your hands on.<br />
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You will be a great mother. Hug those babies as often as you think of it because truly, it is the blink of an eye. You don't believe that now, and nothing I say will convince you of it and thats ok. But look at those sweet faces whenever you get the chance, tell them how wonderful they are and pray for them always. Cherish these days of young motherhood.<br />
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You will never love cleaning house so don’t even start beating yourself up over it. Just because you accept Christ does not mean you automatically become a perfect housekeeper, so stop thinking something is wrong with you. You are no less of a woman because of it and there are many other things you will excel in. In fact, soon you will get the revelation that the term “housewife” is demeaning and tell people that call you one that you are married to a man, not a house. You go girl!<br />
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Your kids will grow up to be wonderful, gifted human beings.<br />
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You will have great friends. Many of them will help you be a better mother.<br />
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It's ok to ask for help, don't always feel that you are stupid if you don't know something. ALL mothers need help, not just 16 year old ones. You are normal.<br />
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Right now, you still have some issues with your parents. Even though you are married and have your own child, a part of you is still that rebellious teenager that does not want to be told what to do. But one of these days, a light will go on and you will appreciate them more than you can ever imagine. They are about as scared as a parent can be right now, wondering if you are going to make it. But you will make them proud and will gain a new respect for them in the not too distant future. They love you more than you can see right now, but one day you will understand.<br />
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You have a purpose...several in fact. It's a wonderful journey discovering them all.<br />
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Exercise. All the time, make it a way of life and learn to love it.<br />
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Fad diets don’t work...don’t even waste your time.<br />
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Sometimes life sucks so bad you want to ask God if He really knows what He is doing - go ahead, ask. Tell Him how you really feel because He knows anyway. He is not going to strike you dead for being honest, He is not going to be angry because you said the "wrong" thing. He is so much more merciful than what you are being led to believe. Think of the love you feel for your daughter and multiply that by a number too large to imagine...that is how your heavenly Father feels about you. After your rant, listen to what He has to say. He loves you and wants to give you the desires of your heart.<br />
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Know that everything you go through, every experience you have will add to you. God will use the good times and bad to teach you, strengthen you and bring you closer to Him. Soak it all in, write it all down. Those journals are your story and it is a grand story. You will gain confidence over the years and one day will be able to tell your story and there will be no shame. God has done marvelous things in your life and you are loved beyond what you have ever dreamed.<br />
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Keep going...the best is yet to come.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-61504951179792920142010-08-07T15:02:00.072-04:002010-08-13T14:08:55.091-04:00Confessions...<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It is said that confession is good for the soul. And I have one to unload. I really like the Dollar Store.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Many of you probably think, “And?” Why do you need to confess that? </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bill and I try very hard to be as locally minded, fair trade, fair wages and good for the environment as possible. What does that have to do with the “Dollar Store”? Well, maybe a lot. They now make things specifically for the Dollar Store, where years ago they were buy outs of last years products, overstocks and such. So to stock a lot of the stuff in a dollar store, people are working in a factory somewhere being paid to make things that only sell for a dollar...imagine what it actually costs to make them. Probably not the best wages, or the best products.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But last week I had occasion to go to the Dollar Store. I had a fundraising Gala to attend and needed new shoes to go with my outfit - which I had just purchased the day before the Gala - I know, not too bright, but shoe shopping is my least favorite thing to do. I have wide, flat feet and finding “pretty” shoes that fit and feel good does not happen easily. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I miraculously find a nice pair without too much stress and ended up buying two different colors (light gold and off white) of the same shoe to take home because I wanted to try them both with my dress (and get my daughter Shay’s advice on which color to choose). We chose the light gold ones, rather than the off white and I was actually kind of excited about wearing the shoes. I even purchased nail polish to match, thinking it would be a nice touch.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, the morning of the event (Saturday) I wake up and enjoy the patio with coffee and my sweetie pie. It was a beautiful morning, cool and pleasant. We sat out there for about an hour and came in to have some steel cut oats for breakfast. As we walk through the dining room after breakfast, I take note of my dress laid out on the chair to be pressed. I want to show Bill my choice of shoes and my “accessories” (another Shay decision). Since I still have both colors of shoes, I also want to see if he would pick the color we did to go with the outfit.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I take the shoes out of the boxes and immediately he picks the light gold. I am relieved and decide to put them on to show him how they look. I put the left one on and fasten it. I put the right one on and...wait a minute...what’s up...I can’t...fit...my...foot...in...it. What!!!!??? I try again and I cannot fit my right foot in the shoe. Now, I swear I tried both shoes on in the store...but I pick up the right shoe to see if I have a different size. Nope, same as the left. Bill asks if I have been sitting on my feet (my favorite way to sit) and I say no, I don’t think so, but decide to sit for a few minutes, not on my feet, and see if it makes a difference. Try again. No go, this foot ain’t fitting in this shoe! It’s about 11 a.m. and the Gala starts at 6, so I figure I better get to DSW and see if I can correct this.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I get to the shoe store and explain my dilemma. One of the girls that I had chatted with the day before when I purchased the shoes was there and was very understanding and took me right over to where my shoes were. She looks for another 9M (I usually wear an 8, but that is also in sandals and flats, not heels) but there are none. However, she finds a 10 and I try it on. It actually feels pretty good, although it is a bit loose at the heel and I will have to punch another hole in the straps to correct this. The woman tells me the best way to punch a clean hole in the strap is with a dental tool that has a pick on the end of it (the thing they use to scrape plaque off your teeth). She says you can get one at Meijer for a few bucks. I thank her for the advice, exchange the shoes, return the off white ones for credit and I am on my way.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The DSW is on the south side of South Bend in a complex with a bunch of other stores, one of them being “The Dollar Store”. Now, I have not been in one for quite some time, for the afore mentioned reasons. But as I think of this little dental tool I was told about, realizing it will probably cost a few bucks, I look up and see the store in front of me and think “Hey, the Dollar Store probably has one”. So, off I go.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As soon as I walk in, I feel kind of comfortable - which surprises me. I take note of this and wonder why I feel that way. All around me is just about anything you could ever need...and each item is only a dollar - or less! Even the smell of the store is kind of comforting and familiar...I don’t know if I can really describe it...nice plastic or something like that. It is the combined smell of a million different sundries all mixed together. It just puts me at ease. I know I am going to find something to work for the job of punching a hole in my strap. I decide I am not going to dilly dally though, so I head for the toothpaste aisle. But wait...what’s this? A display of back to school items that has magnetic dry erase boards....for only a dollar! Since it is magnetic, I could hang it on the side of my fridge and use it to make grocery lists and write notes. I used to have one but it was not magnetic and I had it rigged up kind of goofy on the fridge and it was forever falling down - and I had paid a lot more than a dollar for it. I have to have this one. I pick it up and continue on towards the dental aisle.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I find it and start down the row. The wall is lined with tooth paste, tooth brushes and such. But right across from that, on the left side, is make up and manicure supplies. Now, I don’t buy cheap make up anymore, as I have learned my lesson on that. But eye liner jumps out at me and I stop to look at it. I don’t use it often, so my pencils tend to get dried up or lost in some abyss between uses. I think I might want to have some for tonight’s event, so I look at them. Now, the thought does cross my mind that I might not want to put something on my face that only costs a dollar, but then notice that it is a brand name eye liner, so I figure it’s just discontinued shades or something like that. As I try to make my choice, I think I know why they are in the dollar store - no where on the package is there a color listed, only on the pencil, which of course is tiny and depending on how it sits in the package, almost unreadable. I am able to see the color on a couple and make my choice. Now if it dries up or gets lost, hey, I have only spent a dollar. And next to those are lip liner pencils...another thing I rarely use, but I like the color and its another brand name, so I pick one of those up.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I bring myself back to task, turn around and scan the dental selections on the other side of the aisle. I gaze through the tooth paste as well, just to see if my favorite brand is there, but am reminded that they found some kind of poison or something a while back in dollar store toothpaste, and even though the one I use is a brand name, I forget about buying that (which they don't have anyway). I continue looking and no dental tools. Paste, brushes, dental floss, but no dental tools. Damn. But hey, there are lots of other things to punch a hole with, so I don’t give up. I just turn back around to the other side of the aisle where the manicure supplies are. Here they have whole manicure kits for only a dollar. Many of them have little pointy scissors with tiny ends on them and I think...well those will work. I have a pair at home, but they cost more than a dollar and I am not sure I want to dull them with my shoe strap, so I pick out a kit from the 4 or 5 choices and am sure I have found what I need. I continue down the aisle and there are soaps, lotions, shower caps...so many things! I pick up some “Yardley” lavender soap and smell it...mmmmm. I notice the “Tone” cocoa butter soap and pick it up. The smell of original tone soap brings back a kind of nice memory for me from years ago, so I smell that as well. However, the memory is not one I need to be dwelling on, so I put it back in the bin.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, I have what I came for, plus 2, so I should be good, right? But it won’t hurt to look a bit more will it...there is just so much to see! So I peruse a bit more. Oh look, those cool super absorbent hair towel turban thingies! I have one, but it is small, so it does not fit my hair any longer, since it now grows beyond my shoulders. I pick it up and look at the picture on the box, which promises lots of twirl room, so I have to get it. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There are only 4 things in my hand now, and I still have a bit more time, so I decide to walk around. Oh, there are the wine glasses...a favorite of mine. Several times in my travels out of town, I have hit a dollar store to get some real wine glasses to use, and then leave behind. Wine always tastes better in a real wine glass (wine in plastic is the devils idea) and I rarely travel anywhere that wine is not involved. I am forever breaking mine, so it doesn’t hurt to have a few extras. I look over what they have and resist the temptation to buy. They are pretty nice, but the stems are a bit thicker than I like, so I move along. I look down the food aisle, but don’t go down it. I am still pretty convinced that I don’t want anything from the dollar store that I am going to ingest, so its not too hard to pass it by. Most of the food is crap anyway, and I am trying to be good.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh, but look, there are nylons! I don’t wear those very often, but it is nice to have an extra pair around, so I check those out. I pick out a pair that are control top ones, because they are nice to have to “smooth things out a bit”. On my way through the aisle, I remember I need light bulbs, so I detour to that aisle. Most of our lights now carry the compact fluorescent bulbs, which I hate, but I understand their value and purpose. But, for reading, they just don’t give me enough light, so I have a couple lamps I use the old bulbs in. I pick up a package of 75 watters and I am on my way again.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I head towards the checkout, but decide to take one more look at the manicure stuff. They have the 3 way buffers, that I like (file, smooth and shine) so I pick one of those up, as well as a regular emery board. Ok, now I am up to 8 items...all cradled in my arms, as I took no cart or basket when I came in (because I was just wanting that one thingy to poke a hole in my shoe strap). Oh, and there is a “smudger” brush for my newly purchased eyeliner. So 9 items...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I get to the check out (which is packed) and wait my turn. The nice clerk rings me up...“That will be $10.70”. Hmmm..that means I have 10 items...what else did I pick up? I don’t recall but I am sure she is correct and pay the money and head home.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I get home I get the shoes out to show Bill and thankfully they BOTH fit my feet. I explain my need for an extra hole and that I have carefully selected a tool to do that and pretty please will you take care of it for me...but he does not see the need. “They look good” he says. He can tell by the look on my face I don’t agree and tells me he will punch a hole if I really want him to and yes of course I really want him to because I have just spent $10 getting a tool that costs a dollar to punch a hole! I continue to get ready in another room and leave him to the task, which he does, and they look great.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I use several of my dollar store supplies to ready myself for the evening. We attend our Gala and all goes beautifully. We have a wonderful time, although my feet are killing me by the end of the evening as they are not used to wearing anything higher than a shoe sole. But it was worth it.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/TGQCFZS_nfI/AAAAAAAAAQs/1eG2nqWc-_I/s1600/DSC00687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/TGQCFZS_nfI/AAAAAAAAAQs/1eG2nqWc-_I/s320/DSC00687.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This now concludes my confession of being a secret dollar store junkie. I really did not think I was until I walked back into the store and realized I had missed it. I am hoping that I have not stirred something that cannot be reasonably controlled. You know what is the funniest thing about all of this? This morning, before Bill left for work I read my story to him and the first thing he said was...“Did you check to make sure you had 10 items” and the next was “I didn’t use the scissors, I used a safety pin”. Laughter is good for the soul too....</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-11485081569048453002010-06-21T10:20:00.007-04:002010-06-21T15:50:48.486-04:00It's A Beautiful Morning....<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What follows are my musings of a wonderful morning spent in my back yard last week.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I sit in the back yard patio, surveying my surroundings. My second latte in hand with remnants of yesterdays activities with the grand kids around me - gloves and tools still strewn about on the table and the hose stretched across the yard. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The sun is peeking through the trees, a bunny feeds in the grass, birds are singing. Its a cool morning and all seems peaceful. It is cool enough that no one’s A/C unit is going on, so a few cars driving by is the only other noise. It’s a little piece of heaven for me...a private sanctuary just steps outside my back door.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am prone towards feeling some guilt about all this enjoyment - actually, the <i>opportunity</i> to enjoy it since I am not working outside the home. If I accomplished more during my days, perhaps the guilt would not be so prevalent. It is not as if I sit around all day and watch soap operas while eating bon-bons. In fact, because I am "free", and people know it there can be quite a few things on my daily schedule. But still, in my mind because of my current “unemployed” state (I prefer the term “Kept Woman”) my house should be immaculate, a several course meal on the table every night and all the clothes starched and pressed. Ha! The reality is, the house is clean enough and Bill and I are never in dirty clothes - in fact I am quite good at keeping him supplied in fresh shirts, underwear, socks and pants. But there is a bit of clutter (especially in “under used” rooms) and plenty of meals are leftovers or thrown together (with lots of love of course) as in “what do you feel like eating tonight?”. The truth is I hate housework and always have, so even the bit I do accomplish is a great stretch for me. But I do love having a clean house and still dream of being decadent enough with money to hire a housekeeper.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But for now I just enjoy these times of peace and tranquility in this home God has blessed us with. There were plenty of years I had little peace or time to enjoy things like this. I remind myself I have been keeping house and raising children since I was 14, have held many jobs that were stressful enough and that Bill really likes having me home. I cook often and we use our home to entertain all the time. So, I put the guilt aside and embrace this peace and feel like God created this place just for me, because He really does love me.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I survey the freshly cut grass (thanks Gary) and see the sun shining on the day lilies, their buds reaching out towards the sky, waiting for the warmth of the sun to open them up so they can bloom for just one day. There are plenty there, so even though death comes quickly, more are waiting for their turn to burst open and assures the bright orange flowers will be visible for weeks to come.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The wild rose bush in the rock garden at the end of the yard blooms with red flowers, the mulberry tree behind it holds thousands of berries, to the right, along the fence the tomatoes are growing like crazy in the container garden, the onions my sister in law DeeAnn gave me many years ago thrive and continue to spread, Brown Eyed Susans are starting to bud and my hanging baskets and pots look pretty with the annuals I planted. I especially like the pot with the orange daisy like flowers with the purple centers. Even the “tree garden” to my left (named so because of the tall maple tree that grows in the middle of it) that seems to have lost it’s order is beautiful as it overflows with an array of plants : 2 kinds of ground cover (Bishops Weed from my sister in law Billie and another that I bought, but can never remember the name of - it gets beautiful purple flowers all over it), lavender in bloom, mint gone wild, chives, cone flowers, a sweetheart rose bush (a gift from Martha Byler after my mom died) the tallest Fox Glove I have ever seen, Snap Dragons and several potted plants placed on the wood beams that contain it all. Two of the pots are jasmine, which especially excites me as they are now forming buds with a promise of sweet scented white flowers. I love the color of a garden, but the smells...oh, they bring a special joy to my soul. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the jasmine trees holds a very special place in my heart, as a couple years ago I thought I had lost it because all the leaves had fallen off and no sprouts were visible...it appeared lifeless. I pulled it from it's pot and put it in a pile with other branches and yard debris at the end of the season. There it remained through the winter and last year in the spring I cleaned up the area and lo and behold there were sprouts on the branches! I scooped it up, re-potted it and it bloomed wonderfully that year and I took it inside for the winter. It is a beautiful green with lots of new growth and those promising buds. It is that wonder of nature I have written about before...what may appear dead to my limited human sight is yet alive and ready to be re-born.<br />
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Behind me, the patio is lined with pots that contain various herbs and a few more flowers: Basil, Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, Chocolate mint and my favorite flower, “Heliotrope”. My favorite because it is so fragrant - like sweet vanilla oozing from its deep purple flowers. It’s an annual and some years it is hard to find, so last year I babied one plant through the winter indoors and am pleased that it survived and is now blooming. But one just won’t do, so two more pots are in the row with my herbs. I also backed it up with buying some Helioptrope seeds online, just in case... </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The hose catches my eye again, and reminds me of yesterdays activities with the grand babies: A meal of pancakes on the grill (with fresh mulberries picked by their little hands) and bacon, then yard work with Grammy (encouraged by my promise of payment for labor) and then spraying each other with the above mentioned hose. Grammy even taught them part of a new song: “Don’t Eat The Yellow Snow” by Frank Zappa. I did this after a comment they made to me - they thought they were cute by saying something like...“Hey Grammy, did you know you shouldn’t eat yellow snow?” Now why they were thinking this in the middle of such a warm day, I don’t know, perhaps just wanting to tease me..but I was ready for them. I replied by singing “Watch out where the huskies go, don’t you eat that yellow snow”, a line from the Zappa song. They snickered and seemed impressed. Good times.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The sun is moving closer to me, but I still enjoy the shade and coolness of this morning. I go inside to grab seeds and fill my bird feeder, jealous of all the activity I see at my neighbor Noreen’s feeders. I have neglected mine and left it empty for several weeks now, so I am sure the birds will need some time to notice. Hopefully they will see it before the squirrels do. My next chore will be slathering the Shepperd's hook it hangs on with shortening, the only sure fire way I have found to keep the squirrels at bay. An added benefit of doing this is the fun of watching them try to get up the pole, only to slide down on the grease.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The bird bath is next to the feeder and seems always in need of more water. Both the feeder and the bath are in view of the back window, where our cats sit in the family room. The birds flying and squirrels running give them hours of pleasure and in turn gives us enjoyment as we watch them at the ready to pounce on anything that moves outside, out of their reach. I especially love it when Isabella sees a bird that catches her fancy and lets out the little "clucking" sound a cat makes - "eh, eh, eh, eh" - when a bird excites them.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Summer has not even "officially" begun yet, but I know these mornings are numbered, and so I am quite adamant about spending time out here when the weather is so awesome. There will be mornings when even early the humidity will be too much for me to really enjoy being outside and then of course the dreaded winter is just a few months ahead. So this time is treasured, sacred and appreciated for the beauty and peace it holds.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is already 8:30 and I need to think of going to Zumba class. I pull myself away to pack up my computer and empty latte cup. Goodbye sweet haven...we will meet together again another day.<br />
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</div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-73546369072983042342010-05-08T08:11:00.016-04:002010-08-31T10:08:54.816-04:00This Mother's Day...<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I write a lot about the people in my life and have posted stories of individuals that were on my heart. Really, it is just the tip of the iceberg, as there are so many in my life that move me and influence me, it will take the rest of my life to write of them all…which of course is my plan.<br />
<br />
Right now, I am very moved as I think of my three children – Shay, Job and Anna. I have talked about them in previous postings but want to go into more detail. The idea for this started out as I began scanning old pictures of Shay to post on Facebook. She wanted some pics of her as a child for a FB “look alike” week. As a child, she resembled a young Natalie Wood and every Christmas when “Miracle on 34th Street” ran on TV, she was hit with “Did you know you look like that little girl in the Christmas movie?” </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R2WqPwJoI/AAAAAAAAAPM/3c8eDf4fjfg/s1600/Shay5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R2WqPwJoI/AAAAAAAAAPM/3c8eDf4fjfg/s200/Shay5.jpg" width="138" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R3jcJ6xnI/AAAAAAAAAPc/vstZjNCtPS8/s1600/NatShay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R3jcJ6xnI/AAAAAAAAAPc/vstZjNCtPS8/s200/NatShay.jpg" width="114" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R3jcJ6xnI/AAAAAAAAAPc/vstZjNCtPS8/s1600/NatShay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Natalie</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R2U1UTxiI/AAAAAAAAAPE/Mlzr3MoMxWA/s1600/Shay2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R2U1UTxiI/AAAAAAAAAPE/Mlzr3MoMxWA/s200/Shay2.jpg" width="141" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R2ZGkbb9I/AAAAAAAAAPU/pBoxThRqWsQ/s1600/Shay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R2ZGkbb9I/AAAAAAAAAPU/pBoxThRqWsQ/s200/Shay3.jpg" width="153" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I started looking through my myriad of pictures stored in boxes and albums for pictures of Shay. I had already begun sorting through them a few months before and had separated many of them into categories…individuals, family, events and such. So, the biggest challenge of the task was already done – I knew where they were!<br />
<br />
As I sorted through the hundreds of pictures, memory upon memory collected over the years began to surface and come alive. Births, parties, outings, bad haircuts, poverty, friends, joy and sadness…several lifetimes strewn before me in a sea of moments caught on film. All of them stored away in my heart and mind, but the pictures bring them all back, as if they just happened yesterday, instead of 30 years ago. It made me think of my children and what having them has meant to me and how it has changed my life.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qj6YN32MI/AAAAAAAAAL0/6hLaNBew2Ts/s1600/Familyfroup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qj6YN32MI/AAAAAAAAAL0/6hLaNBew2Ts/s320/Familyfroup.jpg" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<br />
So on this Mother’s Day, I want to celebrate my children.<br />
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We talk of parents and the lasting impact on our lives – words from our childhood can either help or haunt us forever. But I wonder sometimes if my children know how much they influence me and the impact they have on my life, even though all are grown. There are way too many things to list in this format, but here are some things that are close to my heart.<br />
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Does Anna know I reach for my tin of “Rosebud Salve” to put on my lips before any other chapstick because she likes it so? That every time I see the blue tin with the red letters I think of her in her apartment in Brooklyn, standing in front of her full length mirror, “Rosebud Salve” in hand saying to me “You have to try this mom, I love it”, as she extends her arm, pointing the round tin toward me. She repeated this several times on that visit until I finally said yes to the tin of pink “goo”, and as I apply it to my lips she is pleased and says “isn’t it great…I love this stuff!”</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qm00Z59gI/AAAAAAAAAME/BH3hfxDcnh8/s1600/Anna2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qm00Z59gI/AAAAAAAAAME/BH3hfxDcnh8/s200/Anna2.jpg" width="145" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QmDWIOVpI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qcvbwutYrsU/s1600/IMG_3106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QmDWIOVpI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qcvbwutYrsU/s320/IMG_3106.jpg" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> And yes, I do like it, </span><span style="font-size: small;">but bought it mainly because it makes me think of her. Does she know that one of my favorite gifts ever was the green scarf she gave me several years ago, and that every time I wear it, I think of how thoughtful a gift it was since it is green (my favorite color) and I love long, wide scarves. Sometimes I will put it about my shoulders just to think of her when I miss her being closer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QpdPv7LOI/AAAAAAAAAMM/73G4N3VHXUc/s1600/IMG_1601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QpdPv7LOI/AAAAAAAAAMM/73G4N3VHXUc/s320/IMG_1601.JPG" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">Does Job know that many times when I cook, I have him on my mind? As I look through my recipe books or new magazines, I see recipes and I think “Job would love this” and that in him I feel I have finally found someone who truly appreciates my cooking. Not that others don’t, but with Job, because he is a chef, a foodie and enjoys creating for himself – he “gets” it. Does he know that when I call him up to ask his advice on a recipe or ask him to help me prepare something, I don’t do it just to humor him or make him feel good, but I do it because I respect him and totally trust what he says. That when I tell him his bruschetta is the best I have EVER had, I do mean it. Does he know how proud I am to cook with him for events or just a family dinner? I tell him all the time, but I wonder if he really knows.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">There are so many things I could say about how Shay impacts me...her caring for others, her mothering, her biting words when I consider a purchase that does not sit well with her (“And what are you going to use THAT for?”). But because Shay is my firstborn, made the biggest impact at her birth…well, really at her conception - as the beginning of her was the end of many things in my life - which was a good thing. Of course, she had no control over that, but I credit her just the same. I cannot negate her influence even though she had no say in the matter. And the impact of the beginning of her lasts to this day. I gave birth to Shay, but she gave life to me.<br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Q6jJKwRnI/AAAAAAAAANU/fbtccCGHR-0/s1600/Shay+cropped+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Q6jJKwRnI/AAAAAAAAANU/fbtccCGHR-0/s320/Shay+cropped+face.jpg" width="209" /></a><a 3.bp.blogspot.com="" _u6__ztxqvqa="" aaaaaaaaamu="" familyshaynewborn.jpg="" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.comthere%20are%20so%20many%20things%20i%20could%20say%20about%20how%20shay%20impacts%20me...her%20caring%20for%20others,%20her%20mothering,%20her%20biting%20words%20when%20i%20consider%20a%20purchase%20that%20does%20not%20sit%20well%20with%20her%20%28%e2%80%9cand%20what%20are%20you%20going%20to%20use%20that%20for/?%E2%80%9D%29.%C2%A0%20But%20because%20Shay%20is%20my%20firstborn,%20made%20the%20biggest%20impact%20at%20her%20birth%E2%80%A6well,%20really%20at%20her%20conception%20-%20as%20the%20beginning%20of%20her%20was%20the%20end%20of%20many%20things%20in%20my%20life%20-%20which%20was%20a%20good%20thing.%C2%A0%20Of%20course,%20she%20had%20no%20control%20over%20that,%20but%20I%20credit%20her%20just%20the%20same.%C2%A0%20I%20cannot%20negate%20her%20influence%20even%20though%20she%20had%20no%20say%20in%20the%20matter.%C2%A0%20And%20the%20impact%20of%20the%20beginning%20of%20her%20lasts%20to%20this%20day.%C2%A0%C2%A0%20I%20gave%20birth%20to%20Shay,%20but%20she%20gave%20life%20to%20me.%3C/span%3E%3Cbr%20/%3E%0A%3Cbr%20/%3E%0A%3Ca%20href=" http:="" imageanchor="1" io5ntko_saa="" s-qyj6d9mli="" s1600="" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QyJ6d9MlI/AAAAAAAAAMU/IO5NtKO_SAA/s200/Familyshaynewborn.jpg" width="117" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Shay's story has been told on many occasions. But it is a fine story and bears repeating. <br />
<br />
What started out as something that seemed could only lead to disaster, became the defining moment of my life and put me on a path that led to greatness. I gave birth to Shay at the age of 14. In the day of 2010, not such a rarity, but in 1973 in my circle of peers, it was unheard of.<br />
<br />
I was a damaged, broken girl when Shay’s dad Dave came into my life. I was a glue sniffing, cigarette smoking 7th grader that went from a straight A student in grade school to flunking out in middle school. I had little confidence and went with the “wave” of my friends….which at the time was skipping school and the afore mentioned smoking cigarettes and sniffing glue. It is well known that sniffing glue destroys your brain cells and Shay’s dad credits himself with saving my brain, as he introduced me to marijuana - and with that new introduction I exchanged one drug for another and gave up sniffing glue. I must agree with him on that one, because the after effects of weed versus glue - really glue was not what we were sniffing, our chemical of choice was lacquer thinner, but I digress - were significantly less. And I needed all the brains I could muster for the days ahead.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VNMoZ5wwI/AAAAAAAAAP8/U5Ml6QxlAos/s1600/Sue+teen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VNMoZ5wwI/AAAAAAAAAP8/U5Ml6QxlAos/s200/Sue+teen.jpg" width="133" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is much more involved in the telling of that story, but I just wanted to set the tone so you can get a feel for the significance the “beginning” of Shay had. Two very messed up kids, 14 and 16, hooked up; having no idea of how to make wise decisions in their own lives, let alone a child’s. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
But from the moment I realized I was pregnant, something changed in me. I am not sure of all the emotions I felt, but I know I experienced a rebirth of sorts. My life seemed to have found purpose and I felt responsible for this new being immediately. I was aware, even at 14, that anything I did from that point on would have an impact on this baby. Now, I was scared shitless, but scared or not, I began to change. I stopped smoking both cigarettes and weed…we both did, her father and I. And we started making plans for this new life we had created.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I no longer looked at life through my eyes only, but began to think of life with a child. A great sense of responsibility took over and I went into “protection” mode and wanted to make sure our child would be taken care of. Dave started saving money from his job (he had quit school) and we were making plans. Now, these plans were crazy, because they included running away (to avoid the wrath of my father) and Dave delivering the baby at home (which was to be in St. Louis), but they were PLANS nonetheless and we began thinking of someone other than ourselves.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VNOI-gztI/AAAAAAAAAQE/H5RJvU8vepU/s1600/Sue+wedding+dress+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VNOI-gztI/AAAAAAAAAQE/H5RJvU8vepU/s200/Sue+wedding+dress+done.jpg" width="88" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">We did end up running away (what some refer to as “The Wilderness Story”), but I skip forward to her birth, which thankfully occurred safe and sound in a hospital in South Bend, Indiana (not St. Louis) after we were married. She came out so fast after just one push in the delivery room that the doctor almost did not catch her and that really set the tone for her life.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Shay always makes an exciting entrance and impact!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Q6kisphFI/AAAAAAAAANc/faiYTgyqgdg/s1600/Shay+dance+still.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Q6kisphFI/AAAAAAAAANc/faiYTgyqgdg/s200/Shay+dance+still.jpg" width="151" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wonder if Shay knows that her opinion is very important to me. I trust the way I raised her and know that she has good sense and good instincts. Does she know that I think of how she saved my life almost every day and I am grateful? That even though the birth of her was the end of my “childhood”, but I really don’t mind and have never regretted it? That the sweetness of her spirit was evident from the moment of her birth and that it encouraged me daily.<br />
<br />
Of course, I have told my kids many of these things. But sometimes people really don’t grasp or even believe it when they are told they changed someone’s life. They just think you are being “nice” or telling them what they want to hear. If my kids know me at all, they know that this is not my way…the word “nice” is not in the bible and I feel no compulsion to be nice for the sake of being nice. I pretty much say what I mean and mean what I say. So these words are true and they are heartfelt.<br />
<br />
I honestly feel that if I never did anything else in my life from this point on, I would have no regrets because so much of my life has been spent raising my children. Of course, I have a million things left I want to accomplish, but I am just saying that if some calamity came and took me from this earth, I know that I have walked out an eternity changing life by raising my three kids. I have never felt anything was more important to do than that. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qzpy5fkKI/AAAAAAAAAM8/j7bjHwMZbTs/s1600/Shay8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qzpy5fkKI/AAAAAAAAAM8/j7bjHwMZbTs/s400/Shay8.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Starting out having kids so young was a very interesting experience. We definitely had to make some things up as we went along, since “How To Raise A Child” was not in our reading list at that point! We were both strict and lenient at the same time, since we were teenagers and the desire for freedom was very strong in us, yet we also both drew on our upbringing to discipline. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Q5rpp1P1I/AAAAAAAAANM/kJRTqYvsCvo/s1600/Familysuekitchenallenst.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Q5rpp1P1I/AAAAAAAAANM/kJRTqYvsCvo/s200/Familysuekitchenallenst.jpg" width="183" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Add to that the element that we both accepted Jesus not long after we got married and you have a very interesting mix of 70’s Hippie/Jesus/Josh McDowell going on. I thank God that Shay was my first because she was pretty easy going and helped keep the door open to want more kids because of our experience with her.<br />
<br />
We truly settled into family life. I learned how to cook and bake so we would not starve, but was never very adept at housekeeping. When Shay was a year or so, we purchased our own home and decided to expand our family and Job was born. Having a very active boy was a different experience from the “girly girl” Shay was and we became familiar with emergency rooms to get stitches and mend broken bones. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">One of Job’s favorite things to do was imitate <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qzkk9JuSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/PD1Hz2SyXyg/s1600/Familyjobhulk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Qzkk9JuSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/PD1Hz2SyXyg/s320/Familyjobhulk.jpg" width="244" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">“The Incredible Hulk”. He would go around the house stomping and roar, then rip open the front of the K-Mart purchased, flannel button down shirts he wore and buttons would fly. I baby sat for a cute little girl at the time and she would run and hide screaming “Don’t kill me Hulk, don’t kill me!” I knew when I heard it another shirt had bit the dust.<br />
<br />
As I mentioned, Shay seemed the perfect child and was sweet and minded pretty well. I just thought she could do no wrong…until kindergarten. All of a sudden my image was shattered when she lied to me. For some reason she decided she no longer wanted to go to school and told me one morning that school had been canceled. Knowing this was not the case, I gave her several chances to “fess up” and tell the truth. I went so far as to walk over to the phone and say “I am going to call your teacher right now and ask her”, very confident that this would stir the truth and she would confess the error of her ways. No go. She stood there firm, and said, “OK”, calling my bluff. I had to put the scare tactics aside and just say straight up I knew she was lying and that she in fact did have school that day. I think the issue was a little girl that was bullying her and she was afraid. Shay was just barely 5 years old and very small. Thinking that some big girl bully was harassing her caused mother bear to rise up inside and so I walked her to school (yes, there was a time when schools were within walking distance of your home) and had Shay point her out. I just knew it was going to be some huge girl that had probably repeated kindergarten and was taking it out on my little baby.<br />
<br />
I was surprised when Shay pointed to this little girl, no bigger than Shay who for some reason decided to use Shay as her anger outlet. Being the young zealous Christian, I walked up to the girl and introduced myself and explained that people are not made to hit and be mean to, but to love and show kindness. I talked firmly but lovingly to her and she listened, stone faced and not seeming to care. I walked away thinking that it was probably a waste of time and hoping she would leave Shay alone. Not long after that, I chaperoned a field trip with Shay’s class and guess who did not leave my side the whole trip? That little girl…her face no longer a stone, but was smiling. She held my hand all day and fell asleep on my lap on the bus ride back to school. It was a lesson I have never forgotten…people respond to love and attention.</span></span></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VNLBOL_uI/AAAAAAAAAP0/1YJWlXfjvb8/s1600/Shay+Dave+lake+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VNLBOL_uI/AAAAAAAAAP0/1YJWlXfjvb8/s200/Shay+Dave+lake+done.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shay grew into a loving, caring woman and all through her school years befriended the friendless. On several occasions she brought home the stray soul, the young girl that no one else liked and needed to have a friend. I have always loved that about her.<br />
<br />
Job grew out of his “hulk” stage, but kept the superhero heart. He was a very sensitive young boy and like Shay, had a heart for those who needed help. On more than one occasion he stood up for someone who was being bullied by his classmates. One of these times, when he was in the second grade, he was hurt badly by a mentally disturbed girl that had been held back more than once and was a lot bigger than even the boys in the class. He stood up for someone she was bullying (throwing rocks at I believe) and she decided to throw him to the ground and strangle him. The incident left him bruised in body and soul. I had a teacher tell me that the girl was so strong that she could not physically restrain her alone. Thankfully, it was the last day for the troubled young girl at that school.<br />
<br />
Job’s desire to cook came pretty young and one year he decided to surprise me by making dinner. I believe it was ravioli with wine sauce…the only problem was we had no wine, only rum and because it was a surprise, he did not want to ask </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Vct70JPwI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Mi2MlylN-f0/s1600/Mothers+day+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Vct70JPwI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Mi2MlylN-f0/s200/Mothers+day+dinner.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> any questions. So, thinking alcohol is alcohol, he substituted the rum for the wine and proudly presented his meal to me. It was quite a taste that creamy rum sauce, but being the proud mommy I ate it and smiled the whole way through. And today those efforts paid off as he can cook like nobody else and makes some of the most delicious meals I have ever eaten.<br />
<br />
</span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QywCZ6HYI/AAAAAAAAAMs/Ugup8S4nqrc/s1600/Familysuecamp,pregnant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-QywCZ6HYI/AAAAAAAAAMs/Ugup8S4nqrc/s200/Familysuecamp,pregnant.jpg" width="143" /></a>Anna was born when Shay and Job where older – Shay was 11 and Job was 8.<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> They were excited about having a new baby and Shay quickly became her second mommy. Anna’s beginning started with difficulty, something I wrote about in a previous post entitled “Queen Anna”. She was very ill in her early childhood and she was small. This inspired Shay one Halloween to dress her up to make her look like a “Raggedy Ann” doll and then set her on a shelf in her room among her other dolls and took her picture. Unfortunately, the only copy I found was a bad one, but you get the idea. I was always being asked if she was a "preemie". Funny, as she has grown taller than both Shay and I!<br />
</span></span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VQiqSjuAI/AAAAAAAAAQM/kodqn-2v1So/s1600/Anna+shelf+done2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-VQiqSjuAI/AAAAAAAAAQM/kodqn-2v1So/s320/Anna+shelf+done2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is amazing the impact that children have on your life always, not just when they are young. Even though all of mine are grown (36, 33 and 25) they still influence my decisions and choices. And, even though they are grown, they still remain my children. Don’t get me wrong, they are adults, but there are times when they still look through the eyes of a child and expect “parental” behavior from me.</span></span><br />
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</style> <span style="font-size: small;">About 11 years ago, after their dad and I got divorced and Bill and I began dating this fact became clearer than ever. Shay was newly married and 24, Job was living on his own and 22 and Anna 14 and still at home. The divorce was probably hardest on her since she was the only one left at home and had only herself to commiserate with. So, her dislike of me dating (and then planning a marriage) was very understandable to me. I was not prepared for Shay and Job’s dislike of it however.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
So, after I heard through the “grapevine” that my kids were not happy (a good friend who had the sense to tell me the truth) I decided to sit my kids down, just “us” and let them rip…I wanted to hear exactly what they were upset about.<br />
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Turns out that they were still hurting over the divorce and really did not understand why it happened at all. What was painfully obvious to me in my marriage (constant fighting, totally different goals and directions, a husband that was not thrilled about being married to me – just to name a few) they were oblivious to. I made the mistake of thinking that because Shay and Job were “grown”, that they looked at it through adult eyes. But as a wise friend told me at the time “No matter how old the child, they still look at you through the eyes of a child”. So, to them, the bickering and such were business as usual. As Job said to me in that sit down session “It was always that way”. So, while I finally got fed up with it, they had grown accustom to it. This is not to say they liked it that way, it was just the way things were.<br />
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Allowing them to be honest was hard, especially Shay; she has her mothers “way” and her cutting was the deepest as her words were sharp and to the point - she had some very strong opinions on this recent engagement. With the help of God’s grace, I sat there, listening without too much protest, reliving once again the pain of divorce, which I honestly have to say I was quite pleased to forget, or at the very least put aside...something I had been able to do with the new love that had entered my life through Bill. I was in love and giddy with it all…I really did not want to think anymore about the pain of the past. The words they spoke brought me back down to earth and the reality of the world through their eyes…that was a very different perspective. So, once again, my “mommy” genes had to kick in. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">The guilt, the sense of failure, feeling responsible for causing my children pain – it all flooded back in as I listened to their side. There were so many unanswered questions for them. So, together, we went through the divorce, why it happened, how it happened and so forth. Information we had tried to protect them from came out and it helped to shed light I believe. In the end, Job paid me the greatest compliment I ever got I think by saying something like “Hey mom, I have made a lot of mistakes in my life but things always seem to work out for you, so I think you know what you are doing”. In that statement I think he was saying he respected me…and that means a lot. In a very short time they accepted Bill, love him and he has added to their life and they have added to his.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rs0e-uh8I/AAAAAAAAAN0/s1rpgE2XfBA/s1600/Familysuebill2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rs0e-uh8I/AAAAAAAAAN0/s1rpgE2XfBA/s200/Familysuebill2.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">And as much as I love my children and wanted them to accept my marriage to Bill, if our “sit down” did not change their views, I still would have married him. Because while raising them has been one of my greatest accomplishments, it is just that, something that has been accomplished. I was not seeking their approval for my marriage, but wanted to hear why they were opposed and try to bring understanding. Thank God it worked. We are never “done” being parents, but our focus changes. I raised them to be responsible, caring and able to make their own decisions as adults. I was walking out what I had taught them. They had begun their own lives that did not depend on mommy. After raising kids for 25 years, mommy was now beginning a life that did not depend on her kids. It included them, but was not centered around them any longer. I had begun to look to my future, without kids at home, realizing that in a short time, my nest would be empty and theirs was just beginning to fill.<br />
<br />
It’s the double edge of being a parent…you parent your children with the purpose of preparing them to be on their own and be able to care for themselves. You love them with all your heart just to let them go. Children have the same challenge…one day their parents will (hopefully) decide that raising kids is not their primary purpose any longer and may move away, start new careers, go back to school. We love each other enough to let go to be able to walk out the adventure that is our life.<br />
<br />
Investing in someone’s life is one of the reasons we are placed here on earth. We bring glory to our Creator through our love, care and commitment to His creation. He entrusts us with the power to create offspring and if we are wise, we realize just how grand that is. I say again, that if I do nothing else in this lifetime, I am assured that I have changed the world and invested in the future by what I have in my children. I have taught them that to love is to live, that as a parent there are times you put your needs aside to give your children what they need, that to discipline them is to love them, that life isn’t always fair and when it isn’t look for the higher road and that in their lives they have the power to change another’s life.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Our family has been broken, mended, blended and expanded. It's never been easy, but has always been an adventure. We have our disagreements at times, but we get over them quickly and have learned we don't always have to see things the same way. We love, enjoy and respect each other. Life goes forward and the next generation begun. I am fortunate to be alive and well to witness it.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rs2qKrA-I/AAAAAAAAAN8/vbZNvVgzgMk/s1600/San+Diego+Trip+Aug-Sept22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rs2qKrA-I/AAAAAAAAAN8/vbZNvVgzgMk/s320/San+Diego+Trip+Aug-Sept22.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rs4UpdqOI/AAAAAAAAAOE/pjjflLLIlc0/s1600/San+Diego+Trip+Aug-Sept9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rs4UpdqOI/AAAAAAAAAOE/pjjflLLIlc0/s320/San+Diego+Trip+Aug-Sept9.jpg" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rxw4spkSI/AAAAAAAAAOc/Ui3xx9Vk0Is/s1600/Shay,+anna,+Kristin+Times+square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rxw4spkSI/AAAAAAAAAOc/Ui3xx9Vk0Is/s320/Shay,+anna,+Kristin+Times+square.jpg" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rxsl_e6GI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Mve6U2rNKXM/s1600/Mark+and+Shay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-Rxsl_e6GI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Mve6U2rNKXM/s200/Mark+and+Shay.jpg" width="186" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-RyEat479I/AAAAAAAAAOk/9rRXPSUqz44/s1600/Anna+and+Shay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-RyEat479I/AAAAAAAAAOk/9rRXPSUqz44/s320/Anna+and+Shay.jpg" width="241" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R0Sy2YcJI/AAAAAAAAAO8/BMwUVt69WN4/s1600/Job+and+Bryce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-R0Sy2YcJI/AAAAAAAAAO8/BMwUVt69WN4/s320/Job+and+Bryce.jpg" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-RzETsvNCI/AAAAAAAAAO0/QF7trGgbvaY/s1600/Barnards+at+the+cottage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/S-RzETsvNCI/AAAAAAAAAO0/QF7trGgbvaY/s320/Barnards+at+the+cottage.jpg" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
So, this Mother’s Day, 2010 I say to my kids I love you. When you become parents, you understand the depth of this love. I am so proud of you all and not only love you with a mother’s love, but I like you. You are fun to be with and I enjoy your company. I admire each of you and know that the world is a better place because of your lives. Your ideas, thoughts and dreams are a part of me and important to me. I chime in with my opinion when I think it might be helpful and try to keep my mouth shut when I sense it is best to do so. And even though you are all grown, on your own and well able to take care of yourselves, I would fight anyone or anything to the death to protect you from harm. <br />
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Hopefully you understand some of the challenges your parents went through and look back and can say we did our best. Many mistakes made, that is a fact. But I don’t regret it, laugh at much of it and treasure all of it.<br />
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Love,<br />
Mommy<br />
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</span></span></span></span></span></div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-21675515490911030312009-12-28T10:33:00.001-05:002009-12-28T10:36:34.848-05:00A Change Is Coming....<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am a big believer in seasons, change, starting new, contemplating things past, planning for what the future holds. Birthdays are especially thoughtful times for me, but the end of the year brings the most “deep thinking”. I take time to reflect on the year passed. Mainly I wonder if I have changed and did I bring about any change in others? I am hoping that the year just passed finds me farther along in my journey of purpose and being who and what I am meant to be.</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s that “end” of things that gets me going. Outside plants have gone to sleep till spring, inside we try to complete all we can in our personal lives and in business before the end of the year. We <b>must</b> get things done before December is done and the year “ends”. Somehow, completing something by December 31st gives us a special feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction. January 1st is more than a date on the calendar, it is the beginning of a 12 month span of time, 365 days that are yet to be. It is a measure that most of the world recognizes as significant and plans their lives around. </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That’s one of the things I like about years...because we note their beginning and ending, it means each one can be different. Because something ends, it brings a chance that something new will begin. Last year I felt we were to leave much behind in 2008. This year I sense expansion. Each year can bring a shift, change, fresh start, new beginnings, leaving behind...all that. If God’s mercies are new every morning, I have 365 to look forward to!</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m not a big resolution person, although I do like to write down my hopes for the new year. Years ago some girlfriends started a tradition of going to “Cracker Barrel” on January 1st and we would have breakfast and grill each other about what we wanted the new year to bring. I use the word grill, because we were not allowed to just state “lose 10 pounds,” “pray more,” “make a million dollars” and such. No, we had to have purpose, meaning and honesty behind our hopes and if you came to the table with the generic statements above, you were put in the hot seat and prodded for more. EVERYBODY wants those things...what we wanted to establish was what did YOU want, specific to your life, your loves, your interests, your purpose. HOW are you going to make a million dollars for example.</span><br />
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</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We would write these things down and some years we were pretty good at reminding each other of our goals. The next year we would bring them back to Cracker Barrel, check our progress and start all over again. Cracker Barrel became not just a place to eat, but a spiritual experience for us; it was not so much the place, the building and such, but what went on when we gathered there.</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We started out with just 3 or 4 of us, and some years grew to 10 or more. Sometimes those new to “the group” were a little taken aback by our seriousness in prodding and not letting them get away with “I just want to do God’s will” line. If you did not want to share something real and heartfelt, you had no place in this group. We were in your face and not apologetic for it.</span><br />
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</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whenever I run across those lists, it brings these women to mind. Many of the goals shared have come to pass, some have not. But the sharing of our hearts certainly affected us. The declarations made were real and the saying of them brought weight and power to the thought. One woman determined that either her marriage would get better, or it would end. One declared her art would come to life, or be put to rest. One was sure marriage would be a part of the coming year. In the sharing of these things, we took to heart what was the desire of our sisters. Prayer and encouragement followed as we tried to keep track of each others status. Some years we were better at it than others.</span><br />
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</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our yearly meetings at Cracker Barrel have become a kind of altar in our lives. Not a place of worship, but a place of remembrance. Changes were made, ideas birthed, declarations proclaimed. We had agreed that in the coming year we would accomplish something special. Our meal together signified our unity in purpose and agreement to be accountable to each other. To know that there were others who loved us, agreed with us and supported us gave our hearts power...power to believe, to change, to dare. Even if all our proclamations did not come to pass, we were better for hoping for them and reaching for more.</span><br />
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</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As I look back on 2009 I find myself in places I never thought I would be. Without a “formal” church, relationships I thought would last forever severed. But in that pruning and cutting I have found that sometimes it’s a good thing that people leave our lives and that true church happens outside of the walls of a building. </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, what change for 2010? As I said, I sense expansion. The past few years have been ones of things “going away”...it is now time to rebuild, add. The forest seems to have been cleared a bit to actually see and appreciate the trees and perhaps do some building. What does that mean? Not sure yet, I just hope the “pruning” is done for a while ‘cause my branches are a little sore from the cutting!</span><br />
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</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whatever is in store, I know it will include people and relationships. If there is one thing I have learned in my 51 years walking on this earth is that God is all about people coming together, relationships and fellowship. Whether you like it or not, you need me - and I need <b>you</b>.</span><br />
</div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-2375521857156117552009-10-13T13:29:00.006-04:002009-10-14T15:06:20.172-04:00Cake Stories....<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Here are two recipes that some of you have requested. Of course, I had to include the stories behind them. Enjoy!<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The first recipe is for Caramel Cake. My introduction to this delightful piece of sweetness was almost 20 years ago while I was on staff at my church. One of my fellow staffers, Glendar Haskin, shared my love of sweets. She knew of a local bakery that made a caramel cake that she raved about, and one day she got a taste for it. Her description of the wonder of this cake got me hooked. She called the bakery and they would only sell it in a sheet cake, which cost about $20. Neither of us had much money to spare, but we bought the cake with the hope that the rest of the staff (most of them shared our sugar addiction) would be willing to donate to support our habit and buy pieces of the cake.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We took a road trip to the bakery, brought the cake back to the church office and we shared the "spiritual" experience of this cake...it was delicious! The cake was tender and moist, yet solid...the indicators of a homemade cake. The butter and caramel taste just "oozed" out of it, helped along by the delicious caramel frosting. The frosting was soft and creamy and smelled of perfectly blended brown sugar and butter. I had never had anything like it. I had made my own cakes for years, but had never made one like this. I was hooked.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our co-workers flocked toward us to join in our delight and gladly put up the $1.00 we charged for each piece. We had no problem recouping our investment and probably wished it had not been so popular.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The next time we got the "urge" for this cake we were devastated to find the bakery had closed. What to do?! My quest for the perfect caramel cake began and after much trial and error, I have ended up combining two recipes, which you will find below. The first one I found while searching the Internet. It's called "Fran's Funeral Cake" and I was intrigued by the description of it by Fran's daughter (who posted the recipe). She said "Theres a tradition in the South of taking lots of food to mourning relatives when someone dies. We call this funeral cake because Mom, ever prepared for the hand of God, always has one in the freezer to take to the newly bereaved!"<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is wonderful both in cake and frosting, but the cake is really a pound cake consistency and sometimes I want something a little lighter. So, now I use Fran's frosting and a cake recipe called "Brown Sugar Caramel Cake" from the magazine "Taste of the South".<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">FRAN'S FUNERAL CAKE<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2 sticks butter or margarine<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1/2 cup shortening<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2 cups brown sugar<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 cup white sugar<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">6 eggs<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 cup milk<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3 cups flour<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1/2 tsp baking powder<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1/2 tsp salt<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 tsp vanilla<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 tsp almond extract<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Preheat over to 325 degrees. Cream shortening, butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each. Mix flour, baking pwd and salt. Add flour mixture alternately with milk, beginning and ending with flour. Stir in flavorings. Grease and flour a large tube or bundt pan, or two 9 inch round pans. Pour batter into prepared pan(s). Depending on pan used, bake for 30 minutes to an hour or so (tube pan will take longer). Cool about 15 minutes before removing from pan.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">BROWN SUGAR FROSTING<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Combine 1 stick butter or margarine and 1 cup brown sugar in heavy saucepan. Boil hard for about 1 minute. Add 1/2 cup milk, whisking to keep from separating. Boil 2 minutes. Cool. Then beat in 3-4 cups confectioners sugar. You may need more depending on how cool your syrup is and how thick you want the frosting. When using a tube or bundt pan, I like to make it thinner. It will thicken up when completely cool. Spread on cooled cake.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/StS4ZNJl4LI/AAAAAAAAALc/ZjMYpTn0Mm0/s1600-h/IMG_2328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/StS4ZNJl4LI/AAAAAAAAALc/ZjMYpTn0Mm0/s320/IMG_2328.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">CARAMEL CAKE #2 (Lighter version)<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ingredients<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 1. 2 cups all-purpose flour<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 2. 1 teaspoon baking powder<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 3. 1 teaspoon salt<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 4. 3/4 teaspoon baking soda<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 5. 2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 6. 4 large eggs<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 7. 3/4 cup vegetable oil<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 8. 1/2 cup buttermilk<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 9. 1/2 cup sour cream (I also use yogurt)<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 10. 1 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 11. 1 teaspoon maple extract (I used a TBL of real maple syrup)<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Directions<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 1. Preheat oven to 350°. Spray 2 (9-inch) round cake pans with baking spray with flour. Line with parchment-paper rounds. (I just spray the pans and sprinkle with flour) Spray parchment rounds. Set aside.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 2. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda. Set aside.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 3. In a mixing bowl, beat brown sugar and eggs at medium-high speed with an electric mixer until smooth, approximately 3 minutes. Add oil and beat until combined. Set aside.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 4. In a small bowl, whisk together buttermilk, sour cream, and extracts.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 5. Add flour mixture to brown-sugar mixture, alternating with milk mixture in 3 batches and beating well between additions. Pour batter into prepared pans, smoothing tops.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 6. Bake until a wooden pick inserted near the center comes out clean, approximately 30 minutes. Let cakes cool in pans for 20 minutes. Remove to wire racks to cool completely.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The second recipe is for a cake I call "Miss Ceilie's Chocolate Cherry Torte". We used to serve it in our cafe, "The Peaberry" and it is my husband Bill's absolute favorite cake ever. It too is a combined recipe. The frosting is from my dear friend Ceil. My friend Marce and I used to visit her when she lived in Ann Arbor several years ago. Her home was a retreat for the weary and wayword soul and she always had great wine and food. One visit she made this delightful cake and she graciously shared the recipe. It used a mix for the cake, but the frosting was homemade and a decadant, fudgy dream. The filling is canned pie filling and I always promise myself that one day I will make my own cherry filling, but have not as yet.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The cake recipe I use is from Hershey and I love it because it is so easy, yet the best chocolate cake I have ever had. Be sure to use a good cocoa and feel free to add more to taste. Bill likes really dark chocolate, so I usually add a little extra and cut back on the sugar a bit.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This cake is beautiful to serve with the red cherries against the dark chocolate cake. Be sure to refrigerate left overs, as the frosting has egg yolks in it. If you get really adventurous, add a little rum to the frosting...mm mm good!<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">MISS CEILIE'S CHOCOLATE CHERRY TORTE<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Cake<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2 cups sugar (I like to use a little less to intensify the chocolate flavor)<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2 cups flour<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 1/2 tsp baking powder<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 1/2 tsp baking soda<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 tsp salt<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2 eggs<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3/4 cup cocoa (feel free to add a little extra if you like dark chocolate)<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 cup milk<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 cup canola oil<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 tsp vanilla<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 cup boiling water (I NEVER use a whole cup, more like 3/4 of a cup)<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frosting<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 cup butter, room temperature<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">4 1/2 cups confectioner sugar (a little more or less, depending on your preference)<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3/4 cup cocoa<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3 egg yolks<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A little milk or water to thin frosting out<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 can cherry pie filling (I use light) <br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour two 9 inch round cake pans.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In large mixer bowl, stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking pwd, baking soda and salt. Add eggs, milk, oil and vanilla. Beat on medium speed of mixer for 2 minutes.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Remove mixer, stir in boiling water (I only use about 3/4 of a cup). If using the whole cup, batter will be thin. Pour into prepared pans. Bake for 25-35 minutes, testing with a toothpick.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Cool for 15 minutes or so, and remove from pans.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frosting<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Combine butter, confectioner sugar and cocoa. Beat with mixer, add egg yolks and beat till smooth, adding a little water or milk, just a TBL or two at a time, until of spreading consitency. Beat till fluffy.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">To Assemble cake:<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Place one cooled layer on plate and spread with frosting, creating a 1/2 inch border around the edge (helps to hold in the cherries). Carefully spread the cherry pie filling on top of frosting, being sure to reserve 10 cherries for garnish (I like to spoon out the cherries into another bowl, leaving off most of the pie filling "goo" before spreading onto the frosting). Top with remaining layer and frost. To garnish, you can used some shaved chocolate and then garnish each piece with a cherry.<br />
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</div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-88353453137113357402009-10-09T11:32:00.005-04:002009-10-09T17:13:34.694-04:00Haters....<div style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">I wrote this piece because I was so disturbed by what I see many in the body of Christ use as an excuse for hiding their "true" selves from people...haters. I had heard it just one too many times in finding out news about people I had shared my life with for years, then finding out from someone else news that should have been shared personally with those that loved them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: lucida grande;">Others must share my sentiment, because at poetry events, it is my most requested piece. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">HATERS</span><br />
</div><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Haters, Haters everywhere…Haters, Haters, I don’t care!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">I am sick of hearing about haters as if they are a threat</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Why worry what they say; why do we break a sweat?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">We talk about the haters and the damage that they wield</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">The only damage I can see is when we choose to conceal</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Afraid that news of what you do will be out on the street</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">The bad news and the good news to yourself you keep</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">You keep things under wraps, afraid the haters just might hear</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Since when do things of darkness cause people of God to fear?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Concealing all your business because you are afraid</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">But was keeping out the haters worth the price you’ve paid?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Behind your guarded gate, you’ve locked out lovers as well</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Because you choose to hide yourself behind a darkened veil</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Those that love and care are hurt and dismayed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">What happened to all those years together, the prayers that were prayed?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">The faith that said we can overcome anything</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Seeing that faith snuffed away brings quite a sting</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Locking out the lovers for fear of those who hate</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Keeps transparency behind that guarded gate</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">My God is mightier than any hater’s words</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">He alone will choose my fate, He will be my guard</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">We forget the lessons learned as early as the nursery</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">I cut my teeth on adversity, scandal and hard times</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Having my first child at 14 wasn’t considered sublime</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">My divorce and remarriage created quite a stir</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Causing some peoples vision to temporarily blur</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">I can’t say it doesn’t hurt me that people act up so</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">But I won’t shut out my friends because I worry about a foe</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">The word says the power of life and death is held in our tongue</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">I believe life trumps the death of the hating one</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Whatever you focus on is magnified the man of God has said</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">So why focus on the haters and what they choose to spread?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Haters haters everywhere; haters haters I don’t care!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Why focus on the haters when lovers are the key?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Haters only want to bind, but lovers set us free</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Free to be honest, real, who we truly are</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">With this kind love and freedom we don’t have to be a liar</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Can’t you see the lovers just waiting for your call?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">People who reach out to you, even when you fall</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Lovers who long to share in your pain, triumphs and joys</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Yet you choose to keep them away with elaborate ploys</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Some say I’m a hater because I make my thoughts known</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">I say come back and see me when your mind has grown</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Haters, Haters everywhere…Haters, Haters, I don’t care!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <br />
</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-25228119132609116382009-10-08T20:33:00.039-04:002009-10-10T08:19:32.394-04:00Falling Off...<span style="font-family: arial;">I write a lot about seasons, nature and the beauty of creation. They speak to me and add so much to my life. As we go into the next season, it once again teaches and inspires me.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6GMsOpPzI/AAAAAAAAAKM/XtiwwiHriW8/s1600-h/IMG_2303.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390393356598198066" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6GMsOpPzI/AAAAAAAAAKM/XtiwwiHriW8/s200/IMG_2303.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 150px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Burning Bush (with just a corner of the Frank Lloyd Wright house behind us)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Autumn has arrived and fills the air with its presence. The crispness of the breeze, the drizzle of the rain. Leaves beginning to turn from green to orange, amber and red. Just the very top of my “Burning Bush” is starting its dramatic change from plain green to bright red, making me look twice out my window whenever it catches my eye. The seed pods on the Magnolia tree are turning “orangey red” and at times looks like there are cardinal ornaments hung all over my tree.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Leaves have begun to fall to the ground, emptying the trees of their clothing, leaving them naked and exposed. The bare branches appearing dead and lifeless, yet reaching up, reaching out with very little left to make a sound when the wind blows.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6JqF119eI/AAAAAAAAAKs/j782-LtCnio/s1600-h/IMG_2308.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390397160224585186" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6JqF119eI/AAAAAAAAAKs/j782-LtCnio/s200/IMG_2308.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 200px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: right;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6KJ8inRgI/AAAAAAAAAK0/j5Z2DTza1CI/s1600-h/IMG_2307.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390397707483825666" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6KJ8inRgI/AAAAAAAAAK0/j5Z2DTza1CI/s200/IMG_2307.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 196px; width: 147px;" /></a><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Magnolia Seed Pods</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Autumn is all about the falling off of things, shedding what was once supple, bright and colorful but with the passing of time and changing of seasons will become dry and brittle. Huge trees that provided refuge with all the foliage, now bare, no place for anything to hide in the branches...one must burrow inside to find shelter. My plants that once were green and full get pruned of the seasons growth to ready them for next spring.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">This season brings the smell of those fallen, crisp leaves as they crunch under your feet as you walk down the block or gather them in your arms to bag them. I can’t resist giving them a squeeze as I shove them in the bag, allowing the release of the last bit of themselves, the battle over for another year. Never another leaf like them, a new batch already in the making on the tree they just left.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Each day is a surprise, wondering if the sun will shine, will there be frost on the ground...will there be an Indian Summer? Jackets are pulled out of storage, mittens not far behind. Gratefulness whenever we get a warm day. Knowing that you should pull in those plants on that sunny day, but at the same time fooled by its warmth, you think there is going to be another chance. Then that fateful morning when you see the hard frost has come and that plant you were going to nurse through the winter inside the house has succumbed to the weather.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Today I picked my last rose of the season and placed it in my grandma's vase, sniffing it with each pass through the dining room. The tomatoes are slowing down in their maturation, only 1 or 2 a week, instead of a day. Will that squash ever get ripe enough to eat? Can I get one more batch of pesto out of my basil before it’s done?</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss8ZiCdO8DI/AAAAAAAAAK8/M9mg7X7CzMY/s1600-h/IMG_2320.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390555351551504434" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss8ZiCdO8DI/AAAAAAAAAK8/M9mg7X7CzMY/s200/IMG_2320.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 200px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">My last rose of 2009</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">It’s now October and October brings November and November brings December and then the dreaded January and the foreverness of February and March...oh, but I get ahead of myself, this is only autumn.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">I can’t stop thinking about the falling part of this season...so impressive is it we call it “Fall”. The leaves float off the trees when the breeze blows or they are tousled about in a whirlwind tornado as the gusts of wind come. If left undisturbed on the ground, as in the forest, they return vital nutrients to the soil that help the next generation of growth. It seems that is what this season is all about, letting go, stripping bare, clearing away...but first, one last hurrah of color and activity, then silence, dormancy, rest.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6IPpkng1I/AAAAAAAAAKk/OgisEPgQRdc/s1600-h/IMG_2310.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390395606447915858" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss6IPpkng1I/AAAAAAAAAKk/OgisEPgQRdc/s200/IMG_2310.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Creeper vine of color</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">In the spirit of fall and releasing of the old, Bill and I have taken time to go though stuff, getting rid of things, putting order to what was chaos throughout the house, paying special attention to our basement. There is more to do for sure, and we trudge on, hoping to clear more clutter. But thankfully we have begun. It’s amazing how holding onto “stuff” keeps you from moving forward and doing things, stunting your growth. If the old leaves keep hanging on, how will the new ones ever appear? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Lets talk about the basement. I have wanted a new washer and dryer for a long time...but the clutter in the basement would have made it impossible to get through to remove the old and deliver the new. The task of sorting and cleaning and getting rid of things seemed so monumental and overwhelming...yet NOT doing anything made my life so much harder. Seeing the mess every time I went down there, using a washer and dryer that were clearly past their prime (which made washing and drying clothes even more of a chore). But actually taking the time to clean up changed so many things and was well worth the effort. Clearing the basement out made a path to make my life easier: 1) New washer and dryer 2) A smile on my face instead of a frown when I look at the newly ordered surroundings 3) Knowing where things are instead of having to look through mayhem to find something. And best of all... the great portion of my brain that got freed up knowing that this task was finally done! It inspired me to do more so I cleaned out two closets and two dressers...amazing.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss9WbIResqI/AAAAAAAAALE/2FrWNVv5GXQ/s1600-h/IMG_2321.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390622303063028386" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss9WbIResqI/AAAAAAAAALE/2FrWNVv5GXQ/s200/IMG_2321.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 200px; width: 150px;" /></a> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss9WbRrkzTI/AAAAAAAAALM/Id1GDEQFAmc/s1600-h/IMG_2322.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390622305588399410" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Ss9WbRrkzTI/AAAAAAAAALM/Id1GDEQFAmc/s200/IMG_2322.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 200px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Yahoo!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes it is a struggle to actually get rid of or throw something out. I surely have things that I would rather hold onto, and my husband comes from a long line of “keepers". But I find that so much “stuff” only encumbers me, weighs me down. Again, the lessons of nature speak to me, inspire me. It can be a sad thing to see the leaves fall and die, and often it's a cold wind that blows those leaves off the tree. As we were cleaning, more than once the harsh words “What are you keeping that for!?!” were uttered as we pushed each other to let things go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Hard to give things up...there is an empty space where once was something of value, memories, familiar things. But, it’s only for a time, life goes on, seasons change and new things come. Sometimes we like having more room with a clearer view. Sometimes we find something else to take the place of the old. But for sure if we stay stagnant, never allowing for the plucking out, the pruning and the seeding of new, we will wither and cease to bear fruit. It’s the cycle of life...I can fight it, or agree with it. History proves who will win.</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12722845639572979778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5376917291597806958.post-58261515347228435502009-09-16T09:49:00.030-04:002009-11-01T07:49:04.309-05:00Last Days of Summer...<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrEAYOYkwkI/AAAAAAAAAKE/A9qonf19Wpw/s1600-h/IMG_1555.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382083445862482498" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrEAYOYkwkI/AAAAAAAAAKE/A9qonf19Wpw/s200/IMG_1555.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Door County, Wisconsin</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We are still in the days of Summer....at least that’s what the calendar tells me, and I choose to believe it. Even though the leaves are beginning to fall, the walnut tree is dropping its fruit and the chilly mornings make me wear a jacket when I sit out on the patio...I choose to say summer.</span> <span style="font-family: arial;">There have been a lot of complaints about our Indiana summer this year...too cold, too much rain. Those things are true. But as a life long Indiana resident, anything that is not snow is good and helps me get through.</span> <span style="font-family: arial;">So, I am trying to focus on the positive about the weather right now. </span></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD7Ti7u0mI/AAAAAAAAAJE/Q9aj-lvTzOQ/s1600-h/IMG_2247.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382077867921166946" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD7Ti7u0mI/AAAAAAAAAJE/Q9aj-lvTzOQ/s200/IMG_2247.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The sun is shining, the grass is green, my flowers are blooming and it is warm enough to sit outside. The falling leaves actually look peaceful as they drift to the ground with the cool breezes of these last summer days. </span> <span style="font-family: arial;">The squirrels are fat and furiously trying to get more to store for the winter. The Magnolia tree is heavy with its huge seed pods and hangs low in the branches. My herb garden is still bearing it’s fragrant leaves for me to pluck and add to dishes. Some of my flowers that did not do much this year are just now beginning to bloom as if to say “Hey, look at me...it’s still summer!” My tomatoes did not yield very well this season, but they are still coming and we have had a few batches of salsa from them.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD4uAb6QWI/AAAAAAAAAI8/5eiU-SmjGQo/s1600-h/IMG_2248.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382075023982477666" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD4uAb6QWI/AAAAAAAAAI8/5eiU-SmjGQo/s200/IMG_2248.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD4trdzPBI/AAAAAAAAAI0/yC9wpn7dfqc/s1600-h/IMG_2245.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382075018353261586" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD4trdzPBI/AAAAAAAAAI0/yC9wpn7dfqc/s200/IMG_2245.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <span style="font-family: arial;"> Magnolia Pod.....................................Herbs</span></span></span><br />
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Can you see what I am doing here? Focusing on the good things...because I know that snow is coming!</span> <span style="font-family: arial;"><br />
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It’s been a good summer for me. I’ve traveled to New York City with Shay and her family to see Anna. Bill and I have been to Door County in Wisconsin, Grand Haven and Douglas in Michigan, Coeur d’Alene in Idaho and Deer Lake in Washington. One of the highlights for me was when a dear friend traveled 5 hours to come see us while we were in Washington. All the travel makes me smile because years and years ago God told me I would be traveling. Well, with great expectation I went right out and bought a suitcase! Do you know that everybody and their brother used it before I did? I thought “What’s up God?” Good things come to those who wait.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">I’ve been to several open mic events and got to perform lots of poetry and essays, as well as heard a lot of great work from other artists. It has encouraged me to see whats going on in our region with the arts. More than what most people know about for sure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">We added two members to our family - Isabella and Blue - our new kitties. Our hearts were heavy after losing our longtime cats Molly and Toby, and nothing ever “replaces” things lost. But we thank God that we were ready to open our hearts again to pets. They bring much joy to us and its good to hear the scampering of clawed feet again.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Su2C5uI-m9I/AAAAAAAAALk/gLw4GPTpjqA/s1600-h/IMG_1961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/Su2C5uI-m9I/AAAAAAAAALk/gLw4GPTpjqA/s320/IMG_1961.JPG" /><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Isabella and Blue</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">I have had some struggles...some things are just the vicissitudes of life, but some have been more serious. We are still adjusting to not having an “official” church home. I am still figuring out what church <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> means and trying my best to walk out what is in my heart. My asthma acted up more than usual before summer ever really began. That was hard because it put me on lock down for much outdoor activity...which is no fun in the summer.</span></span><br />
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Bill and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary...and many said it would never last! We had some that were opposed to our joining and let us know about it. But we weren’t scared and moved forward with openness and faith. We overcame the haters and our marriage and love have prospered greatly. In fact, some of those most opposed have turned into our biggest supporters. It’s one of the reasons I am so vocal in my disdain when my people aren’t up front with their stuff...if it’s of God then be out there with it; no reservations as in “If God is for us, who can be against us?” If its not of God, then confess it and get whole! Don’t get me started...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Birthdays were celebrated, my dining room got painted (thanks Shay), new chandeliers hung and plans for more improvements birthed. One season may be ending, but the promise of another hangs in the air and with it comes change. Change can be good or bad - we hold the key to which one it will be.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">New York</span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;"> Door County, Wisconsin.................</span> <span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Brown Eyed Susan<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD9L5fhVMI/AAAAAAAAAJM/KB9Yo8G-V7E/s1600-h/IMG_2069.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382079935561159874" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrD9L5fhVMI/AAAAAAAAAJM/KB9Yo8G-V7E/s200/IMG_2069.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Coeur d'Alene, Idaho</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrEAXGoC2LI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/uqK5IV8elR4/s1600-h/IMG_1905.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382083426600016050" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrEAXGoC2LI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/uqK5IV8elR4/s200/IMG_1905.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 200px; width: 150px;" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"> </span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrEAXtZ-AII/AAAAAAAAAJ8/3gRyrtWsSMw/s1600-h/IMG_1971.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382083437009961090" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U6__zTXQVqA/SrEAXtZ-AII/AAAAAAAAAJ8/3gRyrtWsSMw/s200/IMG_1971.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 192px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> Birthday Celebration................................. Open Mic</span></span><br />
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