tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71324343086752297342024-03-05T02:16:15.892-06:00Just Call Me Rie...If you like what you see, pass it on . . . the more the merrier!
Have a dressed up day! . . . put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Colossians 3Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger493125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-35168061081385880432020-04-29T14:47:00.001-05:002020-08-16T14:18:20.664-05:00<br />
My girls-<br />
<br />
So there's a virus. A quarantine and shelter in place.<br />
<br />
Things feel weird. Off. I've been weird.<br />
<br />
I am missing my daddy terribly lately. I think of him so often. If he were here I'd confide all my hidden thoughts and secrets because he'd know what to say. Or maybe not. But he'd hug me close, even though he wasn't a huger. I can literally feel his hands.<br />
<br />
Ask Daddy, he'll know what to do.<br />
<br />
Funny, y'all say the same thing about your daddy. <br />
<br />
I had a dream last night, which is pretty much what prompted this post, along with a FB post from Tracey yesterday- which could be what prompted the dream.<br />
<br />
In my dream I was a teenager, maybe 16, and I was lost. You know how nightmares are- they circle and are dark and usually make little sense. This was like that. There were winding long stairs and my mama was climbing them, she was big like a giant- tall and large. She was coming to my room and I was circling everywhere looking and calling for Daddy. My hair was long, down to my feet. I was really small. It was my room but I was lost in a forest.<br />
<br />
Then I was instantly on a ferris wheel ride, filled with people from my past. I got off and turned back to see big steel bars clamping on another me till it enclosed me completely with only my large frightened eyes showing as the seat swung away.<br />
<br />
That's it. That's all I remember. Enough, huh? I could easily interpret this dream, but I won’t get into that. Y’all know.<br />
<br />
On FB yesterday a friend posted about our senior year in high school and the paint/float parties. I was never allowed to go to any of those, except one. I went to one in September of my senior year. I remember being miserable and leaving early and crying myself to sleep that night- which wasn't new. I probably cried myself to sleep nine nights out of every ten that entire year. I felt very much like an old person. Don't get that confused with an old soul. When someone is referred to as an old soul it usually means they are wise beyond their years. That was not me. I felt tired, sad, longing for something out of reach. Hopeless, helpless, and lost.<br />
<br />
When I was in high school there were things I needed from my daddy that I didn't get. Oh, he was a good man- the best. But I think he was as lost as I was about how to help me. I waited everyday thinking he'd scoop me up and fix all my problems but he never did.<br />
<br />
So, my senior year I left high school after the first semester and started college in January. I had big dreams and such high hopes. I remember thinking all my problems would soon be fixed. But, of course, they weren't. They were actually just getting started.<br />
<br />
So, my girls. Y'all know I lived a very different life than you three have lived.<br />
<br />
Reckless, desperate, searching. Many, many wrong decisions. So much y'all don't know.<br />
<br />
I did, and still do, bombard you with so-called 'help'. I've tried to be honest with you and protect you while still letting you sink in the deep-end if that is what you've needed- pulling you up at what feels like your last breath. So very grateful your deep ends were not like mine.<br />
<br />
I drowned more than a time or two.<br />
<br />
I've tried to shield you from nightmares.<br />
<br />
2020 has brought great joy and great sadness so far. Much laughter and many tears. Just like every year. But it feels different. I feel different. Is the air charged with this virus? Am I experiencing a mid-life crisis? Do I still grieve? Will I ever be able to put a haunting past behind me? What would my daddy say?<br />
<br />
Bear with me right now, ok? Overlook my moods. Ignore my snapping. Disregard my tears- they aren't you. May is coming- sunny days are hopefully here and maybe I'll snap out of it.<br />
<br />
That's what Daddy would probably say. He'd probably tell me to just snap out of it- and follow it with tall tales of long snowy winters, cracks in the floor of the house, and eating shoe leather.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Mama<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-5754634398727948542020-01-27T19:42:00.000-06:002020-01-27T19:53:48.754-06:00Christmas 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhw3XM_9aqRHFEIfLJss3UKYYMQXDPYMXC2hvgcWOxAc6fPRz2gJ-KRqjSA13emIbNuHQJRmyH7nf1MupL5Qnhjb231JoTNO0Z_9P8rzdPIqEvw9UxrCt4xABaosKQ_RSnIoWRs3zjtE/s1600/02F7B26B-BC62-4327-9466-17999C6D7276.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1437" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhw3XM_9aqRHFEIfLJss3UKYYMQXDPYMXC2hvgcWOxAc6fPRz2gJ-KRqjSA13emIbNuHQJRmyH7nf1MupL5Qnhjb231JoTNO0Z_9P8rzdPIqEvw9UxrCt4xABaosKQ_RSnIoWRs3zjtE/s400/02F7B26B-BC62-4327-9466-17999C6D7276.jpeg" width="358" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hmeNnd5fdtlSEp07JE2IXkyZS5BCr2iHG5Qt7UdMm5a-ai3pnFWI39P6yGZMGwf-3dr4L9mRP8KaO8_pGpOYWP3hHVRmPygeHllR96bMumtmyllTX2p2hFyYHBaNZtFk2wBZ1_kHQfA/s1600/16F9F1B4-861E-409C-870D-51A5F6240ED1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hmeNnd5fdtlSEp07JE2IXkyZS5BCr2iHG5Qt7UdMm5a-ai3pnFWI39P6yGZMGwf-3dr4L9mRP8KaO8_pGpOYWP3hHVRmPygeHllR96bMumtmyllTX2p2hFyYHBaNZtFk2wBZ1_kHQfA/s400/16F9F1B4-861E-409C-870D-51A5F6240ED1.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzE_NWRCBGaMC2CFCT9ksYNMhNpnwwveAE04Po69g1CQ6wRqRqQLnUQlKlx0jo2pio2mEh3TV2mp6bjn0DgC5jS6ZnMQ_M9icM-Kz9OBrWmt8UAcZSsMqeKTGwb4ihO98QhbWeqvitjXU/s1600/47F47F0A-5219-4A01-B328-3CED80E7110B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzE_NWRCBGaMC2CFCT9ksYNMhNpnwwveAE04Po69g1CQ6wRqRqQLnUQlKlx0jo2pio2mEh3TV2mp6bjn0DgC5jS6ZnMQ_M9icM-Kz9OBrWmt8UAcZSsMqeKTGwb4ihO98QhbWeqvitjXU/s400/47F47F0A-5219-4A01-B328-3CED80E7110B.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuon_p08LVfqqkdpnJU3VZTTcNmdRTWl6LWJssBg5N87AbxeMIfcpw0NkI5p0JFejWVGvHHdDhj_HVxsOcUqXObel52dmdQSUqioO96wS19MUleDfB3rUrt1meY4EA9PO68xkfeaMW9s/s1600/92D175A2-F774-4596-9FB3-1F1DF2EB9584.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuon_p08LVfqqkdpnJU3VZTTcNmdRTWl6LWJssBg5N87AbxeMIfcpw0NkI5p0JFejWVGvHHdDhj_HVxsOcUqXObel52dmdQSUqioO96wS19MUleDfB3rUrt1meY4EA9PO68xkfeaMW9s/s400/92D175A2-F774-4596-9FB3-1F1DF2EB9584.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAEbai5wwr7kNDZfKX1qP1conxhGxc8xOM6uA9-je9N6q3powcBdAWG0JQAFfXEvpGoBBW8UHQ4gWJBKvW9RndTLH9NdnUakFumqPKz36SQFNhQDB7435BKz_CsEQ_XYQYj38Fftpnoo/s1600/710A5B77-572E-4643-9FA0-CE3EF7CF3092.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAEbai5wwr7kNDZfKX1qP1conxhGxc8xOM6uA9-je9N6q3powcBdAWG0JQAFfXEvpGoBBW8UHQ4gWJBKvW9RndTLH9NdnUakFumqPKz36SQFNhQDB7435BKz_CsEQ_XYQYj38Fftpnoo/s400/710A5B77-572E-4643-9FA0-CE3EF7CF3092.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcPhasOczhUBemHG8FZ-SSrhosXZhK0rm_P8RE-2prnIEd2AEM53I8AVM8J2oi6w9FJu6yDfqk5G36BhuTLHuawHbDey8DvocpIp3FwZ7kpOz8imUjdByxoR81amn19TkYNqz_XHEvUM/s1600/6571EC7D-4462-4B13-8CBA-B78835B6D957.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcPhasOczhUBemHG8FZ-SSrhosXZhK0rm_P8RE-2prnIEd2AEM53I8AVM8J2oi6w9FJu6yDfqk5G36BhuTLHuawHbDey8DvocpIp3FwZ7kpOz8imUjdByxoR81amn19TkYNqz_XHEvUM/s400/6571EC7D-4462-4B13-8CBA-B78835B6D957.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bEw2aPNdklxbhpLyNEmpsCAhs27sZxmtm4-uGN0eOEdvkmP6KZ6_KgUvpMx_fBgi6KS-GdAje08rMJQ-XvN5XXP3e3Li_u88coyf4YpQJko4f4izcu0kmeRTvMwjnatqO3RhwbKt1Ks/s1600/A93620FA-05E7-49B5-9729-314CDA7F07FB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bEw2aPNdklxbhpLyNEmpsCAhs27sZxmtm4-uGN0eOEdvkmP6KZ6_KgUvpMx_fBgi6KS-GdAje08rMJQ-XvN5XXP3e3Li_u88coyf4YpQJko4f4izcu0kmeRTvMwjnatqO3RhwbKt1Ks/s400/A93620FA-05E7-49B5-9729-314CDA7F07FB.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGOHe-Hj4MApcnkDwpdG4wki_p55YHpHm7G0c1DrL3HTkU8snOxEK2Da0r8_8NjmAwLsAF2DOagS9ul0PgIsvfB9ZTSH5llN0PKJnb17Xwq2ztpf-3tf6gJcTO9Yg7AnRGE2t6-3X9KA/s1600/AFA46542-34CD-44D0-8875-86CF31E4A5E4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGOHe-Hj4MApcnkDwpdG4wki_p55YHpHm7G0c1DrL3HTkU8snOxEK2Da0r8_8NjmAwLsAF2DOagS9ul0PgIsvfB9ZTSH5llN0PKJnb17Xwq2ztpf-3tf6gJcTO9Yg7AnRGE2t6-3X9KA/s400/AFA46542-34CD-44D0-8875-86CF31E4A5E4.jpeg" width="350" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5jQIX_C7_BIB7z2DfkPIqXzRorYVWCOYvNDPSPysuGJO4vw_MYHpQaetrmZightidXicIAYnuAm8DzEkG5WqghP5pV999eM90_pAkzPtT6oecA-VmgBmgYPYL04f0jyBbOwl-R41Mtg/s1600/B3537F76-B626-4B11-A0DF-639E229A1CFA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5jQIX_C7_BIB7z2DfkPIqXzRorYVWCOYvNDPSPysuGJO4vw_MYHpQaetrmZightidXicIAYnuAm8DzEkG5WqghP5pV999eM90_pAkzPtT6oecA-VmgBmgYPYL04f0jyBbOwl-R41Mtg/s400/B3537F76-B626-4B11-A0DF-639E229A1CFA.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWFkY4xW2dbHN0IiFkUie4pl7FQ76pwjn84JnA84p9W6cfMooNfN4umVAGYmXFqqiBEQDxXIc4FMp-neLMCVFUOOBfOWkWjVle9oKkdL_OIWHEKCICq9aIuvC4xUrlyPc2sQGgdVHE58/s1600/B5638F1D-AB7A-4F25-8B07-D3685ECF8CCC.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWFkY4xW2dbHN0IiFkUie4pl7FQ76pwjn84JnA84p9W6cfMooNfN4umVAGYmXFqqiBEQDxXIc4FMp-neLMCVFUOOBfOWkWjVle9oKkdL_OIWHEKCICq9aIuvC4xUrlyPc2sQGgdVHE58/s400/B5638F1D-AB7A-4F25-8B07-D3685ECF8CCC.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8Z1K6raUVLlAcbFyx-iU2CWFHwmMoX6inZYbJ7WjRNEvdVRNAWazHukCEOPqVFg7UwOZnDU1nIsKsxskk4kxVOrBew6OCJDExc29KDnt19Nt9O4Qe9dlhzo7RKEPRX_Uw_3QWTuqJYo/s1600/C52EF062-78CE-4BF4-BE8F-15DDE1202605.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8Z1K6raUVLlAcbFyx-iU2CWFHwmMoX6inZYbJ7WjRNEvdVRNAWazHukCEOPqVFg7UwOZnDU1nIsKsxskk4kxVOrBew6OCJDExc29KDnt19Nt9O4Qe9dlhzo7RKEPRX_Uw_3QWTuqJYo/s400/C52EF062-78CE-4BF4-BE8F-15DDE1202605.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08GMC2S7ArgsvFRwIjBYBxVOKkgId38RcVo-XU2vs2hg9tW-DX1OKvCSzVX9_v_Hu0yoq0AFRiYB8LD7HqzP5JYphzpkLmmWzazXxvozZ6YAK4SBh9grdk_-l3lNXpSSj5h6LSkpJWug/s1600/C70E54AB-CC6D-43C9-B386-0DA1024D2BCB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08GMC2S7ArgsvFRwIjBYBxVOKkgId38RcVo-XU2vs2hg9tW-DX1OKvCSzVX9_v_Hu0yoq0AFRiYB8LD7HqzP5JYphzpkLmmWzazXxvozZ6YAK4SBh9grdk_-l3lNXpSSj5h6LSkpJWug/s400/C70E54AB-CC6D-43C9-B386-0DA1024D2BCB.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjai8xAAxERmQnbEp90TpwEvYDEr395CfoeEVTUBpWb8w9-L6GbKplpVjtXEiHOWF9ZHQ1jqJU4mFHx5kS8xqAwQrhSRJBO1dEsXWzkC9tFMqGl2Z6S7Bo0KVWkTXiMISqlNktdOud307o/s1600/EE6D0B86-E861-4FE8-A88C-8F1A96E48070.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjai8xAAxERmQnbEp90TpwEvYDEr395CfoeEVTUBpWb8w9-L6GbKplpVjtXEiHOWF9ZHQ1jqJU4mFHx5kS8xqAwQrhSRJBO1dEsXWzkC9tFMqGl2Z6S7Bo0KVWkTXiMISqlNktdOud307o/s400/EE6D0B86-E861-4FE8-A88C-8F1A96E48070.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6QF1Jd8-YAo-JdF9cq1SJZ1j3AaUC83wbQNBcZfRjJJ5u7ifEoUok3k_v2Lm5WrXGcuFa1kEN0imtYDikG9zMFEKmawt7VIM2cba6MLXGTFuYrmehVVVtSIGRwFdKDpOkAYx3BXj6nE/s1600/4C478334-4B7D-4722-AA1E-0BBA323D6EE2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6QF1Jd8-YAo-JdF9cq1SJZ1j3AaUC83wbQNBcZfRjJJ5u7ifEoUok3k_v2Lm5WrXGcuFa1kEN0imtYDikG9zMFEKmawt7VIM2cba6MLXGTFuYrmehVVVtSIGRwFdKDpOkAYx3BXj6nE/s400/4C478334-4B7D-4722-AA1E-0BBA323D6EE2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgLcW7nbjZXUvqNynSroZAxkS-9WdOajAT-AlEzbqJC4cwmDuMlXXYbThLDHbF9hHhguYxe-1otUEklCQcZ0dYajYUoA_8d6Br9p-HsqfBVws27hgCBsVUUjgp9bXnVmJb4vzK5LO9Dw/s1600/869344E4-6226-4A57-9300-3A513A0B4C89.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgLcW7nbjZXUvqNynSroZAxkS-9WdOajAT-AlEzbqJC4cwmDuMlXXYbThLDHbF9hHhguYxe-1otUEklCQcZ0dYajYUoA_8d6Br9p-HsqfBVws27hgCBsVUUjgp9bXnVmJb4vzK5LO9Dw/s400/869344E4-6226-4A57-9300-3A513A0B4C89.jpeg" width="321" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMYdFRnnsoemGNOIFcM7xG-OTxTGi4rmuLRHT8YhclMAtMhiz3uJshY3BqI2noAnSu-Hjc1FQFl6eDcteyxZmUU9bJErT889XcKIom83NQTrw_vitT95SuffjoG2PstoMrzyJKhhcKGQ/s1600/A6CDBCD4-FB30-405F-AD75-EE5F74D92297.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMYdFRnnsoemGNOIFcM7xG-OTxTGi4rmuLRHT8YhclMAtMhiz3uJshY3BqI2noAnSu-Hjc1FQFl6eDcteyxZmUU9bJErT889XcKIom83NQTrw_vitT95SuffjoG2PstoMrzyJKhhcKGQ/s400/A6CDBCD4-FB30-405F-AD75-EE5F74D92297.jpeg" width="321" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-5594143914416724332019-10-18T11:35:00.000-05:002019-10-18T12:44:07.300-05:00A Max or a Lily<br />
<i>"The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the</i><br />
<i> pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of </i><br />
<i> never risking love."</i> - Hilary Stanton Zunin<br />
<br />
<br />
I sat on the sofa this morning and watched our dog, Jack. He's twelve years old. Some of you may remember when we rescued him at the age of four.<br />
<br />
He's a good dog- an excellent dog. But, I'm not sure how much longer we will have him. He's in pain and his back legs don't really work any longer.<br />
<br />
It'll be a sad day.<br />
<br />
This weekend, someone, somewhere, will be saying goodbye to their dog. It may be a boy dog, with the name Max. Long ago I learned my son Max has the number one dog name. Still makes me smile. <br />
<br />
It may be a magnificent girl dog with the name Lily. She may have brought years of happiness to her children and her adults. She's wonderfully sweet and brave and doing the best she can to be the dog the family needs. But she's just tired.<br />
<br />
If I could whisper in her ear I'd tell her, "You are so very loved, Lily. Go now and rest easy. You've been a grand lady, Lily."<br />
<br />
So, as I watch my dog Jack and ponder the day I'll have to say goodbye, I'm so sorry for and thinking of the family saying goodbye to a Max or a Lily.<br />
<br />
I'm thinking of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-49228073148754227422016-01-24T20:34:00.002-06:002016-01-24T20:35:15.753-06:00happy national peanut butter day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/M9IzCkz2JwY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M9IzCkz2JwY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
love,<br />
maxUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-46713491402576644182016-01-17T01:21:00.001-06:002019-10-18T11:50:41.357-05:00on this, your 24th birthday, forgive me, bluebird; it wasn't you, it was me, all me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjREyE_CkYT4KPcjf5aNG3wNCFCTGzfAO2WB3sbSwFCnN5D0aXTJ7hdO1AihdWCm-axyu2cVjPVHxwgIpBBeg-PvV5r3AvUkLSRCYBd8r2tW9hJVtJvx1qul3G4rpSgMecG9v7ucL5x-UU/s1600/00000370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjREyE_CkYT4KPcjf5aNG3wNCFCTGzfAO2WB3sbSwFCnN5D0aXTJ7hdO1AihdWCm-axyu2cVjPVHxwgIpBBeg-PvV5r3AvUkLSRCYBd8r2tW9hJVtJvx1qul3G4rpSgMecG9v7ucL5x-UU/s640/00000370.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I've always been quick to remind my sweet Shelby that <span style="font-size: x-large;">her birth was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Long and painful and just plain hard.</span><br />
<br />
True, she was round as a watermelon, <b>so the old saying...</b><br />
<br />
And she was late.<br />
<br />
And I was tired before I even got started...<br />
<br />
But I think, after all these years, I've finally figured out the real reason it was such an excruciating time for me. <b><i>I've lingered long and hard over the agony of it all. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>It wasn't you, Shelby. </i></b><br />
<br />
<b>It was Roman. And John. And Marlana. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>And oh, Bo. <span style="font-size: x-large;">Wild gorgeous Bo.</span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Let me try to explain.<br />
<br />
Around my fifth month of pregnancy in 1991 <span style="font-size: x-large;">I discovered Roman was not really dead</span> but had been held captive on Stephano's island since the tragic day in 1984 that Stephano shot Roman and he fell off the cliff- <i><span style="font-size: x-large;">only to die in his brother Bo's arms, with the ever beautiful Hope weeping in the sand. </span></i><br />
<br />
And it was in a fit of rage and revenge that Bo ran to kill Stephano, leaving Roman's body to be swept away by the tide. <span style="font-size: x-large;">Oh, Bo's guilt over the cruel twist of fate that was the tide! </span><br />
<br />
And the pure devastation of it all as Marlana received the phone call of Roman's death. Life faded to black as she sat on her sofa curled into a ball grieving, phone still in her hand.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It was too much. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>It was just too much my dear Bluebird.</i></b></span><br />
<br />
And then, seven years later and me five months pregnant to discover all this time <span style="font-size: x-large;">Roman was alive!</span> Held captive by the diabolical ;) Stephano as the "pawn" John was living Roman's life. John loving Marlana back in Salem while Roman suffered in a cold cell.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I think the shock of it all just wouldn't let up. I couldn't move past it. I was so tired and post traumatic stress had set in and by January I was mentally and physically wiped out.</b><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I was just a walking shell of a person when I delivered you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<b><i>And now, 24 years later, Bo's untimely death of a brain tumor brought on by years of his own torture in Stephano's prison forcing him to be apart from his Fancy Face has been an awakening for me. </i></b> The blinders have fallen off my eyes and I can see clearly!<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<br />
I apologize, my sweet Bluebird, for all these years believing it was YOU. <span style="font-size: x-large;">I shall never tell the horror harrowing experience of your birth and what it did to me ever again to a single soul!</span><br />
<br />
<b><i>It was ME. It was my inability to cope with the sheer sadness of it all.</i></b><br />
<br />
Forgive me, bluebird. <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Mamie<br />
<br />
And now my girls, you understand my generations obsession with soaps. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXGQuy0O65EqfeKKvxCoJadMIAkmMSbOm2GVohesP3py5dGjg5yj1AUGdFlHS9obV49QKJNzk0QlFBIzFZC2dK19YuE4P1epAZKJ6NlPfrcHV1Q7J8g_-HLOYUlEMT_kRVKmvSOY1LZA/s1600/00000041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXGQuy0O65EqfeKKvxCoJadMIAkmMSbOm2GVohesP3py5dGjg5yj1AUGdFlHS9obV49QKJNzk0QlFBIzFZC2dK19YuE4P1epAZKJ6NlPfrcHV1Q7J8g_-HLOYUlEMT_kRVKmvSOY1LZA/s640/00000041.jpg" width="446" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-1375454564021991842015-08-23T11:39:00.000-05:002015-08-23T11:45:35.573-05:00happy birthday, daddy, sleep well<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTs6pikgHduljftOFaMbywxDeUBzJpmvwLAzGtSufwUTRS3NwItA2XcA15Q_1aMpCdMI4XfRbRBzH91fE7B14mjTgYMBvZ7EY6fn9KM48K502QFLeDYD3SdO8tiFPSWiXtHd3m0NHDer0/s1600/00000812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTs6pikgHduljftOFaMbywxDeUBzJpmvwLAzGtSufwUTRS3NwItA2XcA15Q_1aMpCdMI4XfRbRBzH91fE7B14mjTgYMBvZ7EY6fn9KM48K502QFLeDYD3SdO8tiFPSWiXtHd3m0NHDer0/s640/00000812.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><br /></strong>
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">I love my daddy.</strong><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">He would be eighty years old today.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times, FreeSerif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">Daddy had a favorite joke he told us when we were little about an Indian, a doctor, and a tepee. This joke has one <i>not so nice </i>word in it and when I was in the third grade I told it to my teacher and class.</span></span></span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">If I try hard I can still hear Daddy's laughter loud and strong when I did that.</strong><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">Daddy had been sick a couple years before he died and didn't have the energy he did before illness attacked his body. But his spirit was the same for a long time. I remember a day on my front porch when</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"> he did<i> that little wave of the hand and roll of the eye and sound from the throat</i> he did when he spoke of someone and how </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">they ain't got no sense</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><b>W</b></span><strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">hen I looked at my daddy I didn't always see age.</strong><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"> I saw the little boy who was scared of school and beat his mama back home every morning after she dropped him off because he took the shortcut.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">The man who could never bear to spank us,</span><strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"> so he didn't. Ever. </strong><br />
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><br /></strong>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">I didn't see a man who walked barefoot in the snow to school everyday. Really, Daddy? Here. In Mississippi? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">Or a man who lived in a house so bad you could see the chickens </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">pecking underneath </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">through the cracks in the floor Maybe? But.... I don't know, Daddy. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><b>Trust is a little shaky after the snow story. </b> </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">Who became caught in the middle of my teenage rebellion with my mama.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">And who stayed up all night with me after a hard day of work because</span><strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"> my eyes were as big as quarters.</strong><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">I saw a man who allowed my mama to stay home and raise us. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">I'm sure sometimes he thought she raised us alone, but the power to keep us in her loving presence came from him. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">His words were few. Sentiment crept in as he grew older and he felt the need to love us more. </span><strong style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"> But that wasn't possible</strong><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">, we never felt unloved. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 19.7999992370605px; line-height: 27.7199993133545px;">Happy Birthday. Sleep well, Daddy, in the pure peace and presence of God. I'll see you soon.</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-72455505817358360872015-08-13T07:48:00.000-05:002015-08-15T12:51:22.413-05:00letter to my pregnant daughterDear Delia,<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Uoo6_VHzlFwyElbm-eBXdk21Zed_FeYasd2mMPt11vIdqBE2xNHL1JNFxKRQ19fmVqPBCqm8RGpecLXuNzXDbRg5g39w0xCzMcx1vTsQFcSrDGsMwl42ayKDq8_vtgKff9MvhB9cGoE/s1600/IMG_1264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Uoo6_VHzlFwyElbm-eBXdk21Zed_FeYasd2mMPt11vIdqBE2xNHL1JNFxKRQ19fmVqPBCqm8RGpecLXuNzXDbRg5g39w0xCzMcx1vTsQFcSrDGsMwl42ayKDq8_vtgKff9MvhB9cGoE/s640/IMG_1264.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
I think, <span style="font-size: x-large;">but I'm not certain,</span> the last time he cupped his chubby hand all the way around my neck- <span style="font-size: x-large;">all the way till his hand lay flat right at the center of my throat-</span> was on a walk to the mailbox on a hot afternoon. But I'm not certain. Not certain that was the last time.<br />
<br />
If I had known it was the last time she would place both hands on my cheeks to tell her story <span style="font-size: x-large;">I would have looked closer. </span> I would have gazed into those great big beautiful eyes and memorized every detail. I would have asked questions about that story till she grew weary<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i> if I had known it was the last time she'd place her hands on my cheeks to spill words.</i></span><br />
<br />
I don't remember the last time Mamie or Mommy became Mama. <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Just like that with no warning or foretelling</span></b> it just became Mama. I can't tell you the last time I cut up a plate of spaghetti or chicken breast when I'd never be asked again. I didn't know the last time was the last time.<br />
<br />
The last time I brushed your hair back into half ponytail and held round brush to your bangs was -<i> I don't know. </i> <span style="font-size: x-large;">One day in that eggplant colored bathroom before our world rocked hard. </span><br />
<br />
But I had no idea I'd never do it again.<br />
<br />
<i>How many nights did you crawl into bed with me?</i> How many nights did your daddy move to the sofa? Probably way past when most would say it should have been, but not me.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But I didn't know the last time I felt the weight of your body wake me as it lay in the middle it was the last time you'd come.</span><br />
<br />
When he'd never say po-wa-wa again and ask for popsicle next time.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">When she'd never turn both feet in as she walked to just one day walk straight.</span><br />
<br />
There's a last time for everything my darlin'. <br />
<br />
And it rushes in like an unexpected wind and lifts away childhood one veined heart pounding moment at a time.<br />
<br />
Carries it away into a swirling gathering of what Webster calls memories but what your mother calls a <span style="font-size: x-large;">slow glorious death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And only few times will you pause and wonder if it's happening.</span><br />
<br />
Because car seats are heavy and bags are weighted and baths seem unending. Meals come one after the other till you are weary and papers need checking and teeth need cleaning and you dig one after another after another of something from underneath the sofa and <span style="font-size: x-large;">why did the dryer have to eat the very last matching sock when you didn't know someone was drinking the last drop of milk and payday is still two days away so there's too much to think about to think about last times?</span><br />
<br />
You will see. So listen closely now and take heed my love.<br />
<br />
You didn't leave home the day you moved out. You didn't leave home the day you married that red headed boy of yours. You still came back. You still lay with your head in my lap and cried over problem and I knew you were still my little girl living in a woman's body trying really hard to be a woman. I'm sure you'll probably lie with your head in my lap again and cry - I hope so - <span style="font-size: x-large;">but even if you do you'll be just visiting. </span><br />
<br />
Cause now, my darlin' baby girl, you've left home. <br />
<br />
And I know exactly when it happened.<br />
<br />
Now she swells big tiny inside you and you look beautiful and you really do glow as you sit across the room and rest your hand on that spot that aches and <span style="font-size: x-large;">now you've left home.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She's the one who has taken you away. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>And it is above all my moments of motherhood with you my love the most amazing glorious take my breath away moment of all.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
And I know exactly when it happened.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Mama<br />
<br />
Read the first letter <a href="http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2015/03/when-im-gonna-be-grandma.html" target="_blank">here</a>. When I'm gonna be a grandma. <br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-37344085847081769742015-07-14T21:27:00.001-05:002015-07-14T21:27:16.422-05:00what makes you a woman part 2<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hey, it's Shelby again. If you didn’t read
yesterday’s post, I would advise you to before starting today’s!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">So…. Where were we?
Oh yes, me becoming an </span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">AUNT!<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Delia and I are
extremely close, wouldn’t want to do life without her. I love her to death; her
and my younger sister Isabela (can’t forget Maxter too). Delia was the first born;
she always did things before me; she drove first, she got a car first, she bought a house
before me, she got engaged before me, and she got married before me. This is normal
life. She is older than me! It is expected. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">There is </span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">ONE THING I THOUGHT I WAS GOING
TO DO FIRST THOUGH</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;">, and that was
become a </span><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">mama</span></i></b><span style="line-height: 115%;">. See a pattern happening? I love living by my
timeline, and if we learned anything from yesterday, it is that I should leave
these things in </span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">God’s hands.</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Now my wonderful Big
Sister is becoming a mama and I couldn’t be happier for her!</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">I went to bed on the night of January 16<sup>th</sup>
thinking that we will be pregnant together. Our babies will grow up just as
close as we are. Because clearly I was going to be pregnant soon and in a month
I could take a test and run to her and tell her. Our littles just a couple
months apart. </span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;">Perfect timing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Do you see where this
is going? You guessed it. I wasn’t pregnant a month later or the next month or
the next. 6 months later, I’m still not pregnant. It was not supposed to happen
this way, why is it taking six months? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">God,
what’s going on?</span></i></b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">My mama got pregnant with Delia just a few months
after getting married; now Delia is pregnant just 2 months after stopping birth
control. Both not trying as hard as I am. It’s in our genes, why am I not
pregnant? </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, what makes me a
woman? <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Did you know you can’t adopt until you have been married for two
years? I am not pregnant, I can’t adopt yet, I am not a Mother. </span><b style="line-height: 115%;"><i>That
is what a woman is, right?</i></b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">I was
created to be a wife and mother. What happens if I can never be a mother, </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>why
do my thoughts always go to the negative and not to God?</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why can’t I just enjoy being young?</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Why do I want to rush into the next step?</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Why can’t I just TRUST in His perfect timing?</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Why am I so impatient?</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
What if being a mother isn’t in God’s plan?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">If you know me, you know I don’t have patience. </span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">I want things
to happen right away, when I want it to.</span></i></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">Charm is
deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;</span></i></span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text">but
a woman who fears the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text"> is to be praised.</span></span></i><span class="text"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
Proverbs 31:30<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, what makes us women?<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">GOD, God makes us women.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Just
because I do not meet the standards I gave myself does not mean that I am less
of a woman.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I do not get a “C” in
this life. I get an “A+” because </span><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">God is my FATHER,</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;">once we accept HIM we become so much more<i>. </i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">His love and grace gives me the
strength to stop my petty and untrue thoughts.
</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;">He tells me that I am
cherished and loved, and He reassures me that I don’t know ALL and gently rocks
me back to Him when I go down the road of thinking I am anything less than His.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am a woman created by the
ALMIGHTY and PERFECT God. He makes no mistakes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We are not less of a woman if we never marry.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
We are not less of a woman if we never have children.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
We are not less of a woman if our house is not always clean.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
We are not less of a women if ___________? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Come on, we are women; I know something
popped in your head on that last one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">So, we all have a
different idea of what makes us the perfect woman. But you know what? I want to
be a </span><span class="text"><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">woman who fears the </span></i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 115%;">Lord. </span></i></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to be the woman God made me to be. I want to be
remembered by being one of his. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">If being one of His
and following His perfect plan means it takes years to have a baby or never be
able to and only adopt then He will carry me every step of the way. I will be honest,
if I was never to become a mama it would be hard and I would be angry but that
is where </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">GRACE comes in</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead of being 6 months
pregnant like I thought I would be by now, I am going down a different road.
Well, a different road than I had in mind, this was always God’s plan though.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am excited about
this new journey. Tomorrow I quit the corporate world and dive into food
full time. Excited to see where God is taking this little business of mine! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should
go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.</i><br />
Psalm 37:23</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Will we still be
trying for a baby? </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">Of course. </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">Will I be pregnant next month? Well, I can’t
answer that question, cause God has that in His hands. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the <br />
purpose of the <span class="sc">Lord</span> that will stand</i><br />
Proverbs 19:21</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Am I trying to live by what
I thought a woman was? Not entirely, I am going to love and support my husband
and do life side by side with him and when I have children I will try and be
the best mama and love them unconditionally. But, I am also going to be a woman
of God. </span><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Love
and serve HIM and place my future in HIS hands.
<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Everyone is
different. You may not be struggling in the same way I am. There may be
something else in your life that is causing you to go on your own road and not
God’s. You may be angry with Him because He hasn’t given you something you
wanted or dreamed of. You may be thinking?
</span><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">God, what’s going on? Do you not
hear my plea? <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I will reassure that
His plan is more perfect than you could ever dream. Just in case you don’t
believe me, Here are some of HIS words. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>For everything there is a season, and a
time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a
time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time
to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a
time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away
stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to
refrain from embracing; ... </i><br />
Ecclesiastes 3: 1-22<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Trust in the <span class="sc">Lord</span>
with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your
ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.</i><br />
Proverbs 3: 5-6<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You know, it’s about time I took my own words to heart that
I spoke to Delia when she came in shaking and I prayed with her. He does have
this all under control and this is all a part of His plan. <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now little Meredith
Jane is due in just a short 2 months. I get the pleasure of throwing Delia a
shower and I get the glorious job of being Meredith's aunt BB! So excuse me if that’s all I
talk about, I am just a tad bit excited for this little miracle to arrive. Now
if I could only get Delia to let me touch her belly, everything would be
perfect!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don’t let <b>you</b> steal your own joy. This season of your life may not be happening how you expected it too.
But you won’t enjoy it if you are so consumed with the “what if's” and “woe is
me’” attitude. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">GOD HAS THIS. GOD HAS YOU. TRUST
GOD. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></b><span style="font-family: "Apple Chancery"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-27416496075252402302015-07-13T19:29:00.000-05:002015-07-14T21:27:32.838-05:00What makes you a woman?<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Hey, it's Shelby, Rie's daughter.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What makes you a woman?</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">T</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">his question has an obvious answer. What makes a
woman’s body different from a man’s? We all know the answer to that question</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">But when</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> I ask myself, <i>“What makes you a wom</i></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>an, Shelby?”</i> I
am not expecting the obvious answer.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">All throughout my life, I only wanted two things: a husband and children. Simple as that. I thought that this
was what I was created for. My job in life was simple, become a loving and
supportive wife to my husband, birth as many children as I could, and be a loving and supportive mother.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I still believe this is what I am supposed to
do with my life, but now I am learning that it’s not going to happen when, or
maybe how, I expected it to (the child bearing part that is). I'm accepting that I
was created to accomplish other things in my journey as well. I am learning to
go by God’s agenda and not my own - trying to at least. </span><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">I am far from perfect,</span></i></b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">so I falter and fall
into the “woe is me” attitude on occasion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So, what makes me a woman? </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">First, I have to tell myself that I am not <i>less of a woman</i> for not having kids,
biological or adoptive. Adopting a child is a perfect picture of
selfless and complete LOVE, and I pray one day I can do it. Isn’t that what
Jesus does? He doesn’t have to love and cherish us, but He chooses too. But
that’s a whole different post. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>Back to
this one.</i> - If you would have asked me a few weeks ago if I am less of a woman because I'm not a mother yet, I would have said
yes.<i> Isn’t that a horrible attitude to have?</i> I thought I was failing at 50% of
what I was made to do. Guy’s, that’s an <i>F.
</i>I have only gotten one part right, having a husband. And, man oh man, did I
do </span><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">GREAT</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%;">
in that department. I need to give myself more credit, okay, I am at whatever
gives me a <i>C. So I am still passing and
not failing at life. I can’t fail with God on my side though, and my husband
does great at reminding me of that. </i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Loving
husband is truly too good to me, as my mama would say my daddy is for her! I don’t deserve the love my
husband gives me, or the patience, he loves me so well. I am so thankful and I
don’t tell him enough!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">So many people tell me, you’re still young or it
will happen when it happens, just have patience. Yes, I am young, and yes, it
will happen on God’s time and not my own. But do I listen with an open heart to
all the people who are just trying to make me feel better and are speaking the </span><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">Truth</span></i></b><span style="line-height: 115%;">? Nope! I am
listening with the attitude “you don’t know my life, stop making me try to
feel better, it’s not working”. The loud voice in my head telling me that I am</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> <b><i>just a failure is too deafening to hear your
kind words of encouragement, and also God’s.</i></b> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">That’s dangerous people,
drowning out God’s voice.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Is there
something (or lack of) in your life that’s making you feel </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">like a </span></b><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">failure?</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Let me back up a
little bit. I married a wonderful man by the name of Joseph Hennessy on
December 28, 2013, at the young age of 21. I would have started trying for
babies as soon as possible if I had it my way. But I cherish the past 19 months
I have had him all to myself. I don’t regret waiting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LC85fe-5T4VFr3TqBubgwVovz8ZMoeCIDwF2IVgcP-RVXEyAGYKErdfE0LlfOZDb6JGx9i9YEZpT9d0I1jozL0iAgE8iyShnUvawiqJLvllV0O0Mqg4SMsNAvGNS8jysFh0pSalGDI8/s1600/IMG_0069+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LC85fe-5T4VFr3TqBubgwVovz8ZMoeCIDwF2IVgcP-RVXEyAGYKErdfE0LlfOZDb6JGx9i9YEZpT9d0I1jozL0iAgE8iyShnUvawiqJLvllV0O0Mqg4SMsNAvGNS8jysFh0pSalGDI8/s640/IMG_0069+-+Copy.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I had been talking about starting for a family
about 6 months into our marriage but we knew we weren’t ready. Joe had just
graduated college, he was looking for a job, and we were not swimming in money!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">On our one year anniversary Joe said he wanted
to start trying. There are not even enough words to express my EXCITEMENT! In
my head I had decided on a timeline. No birth control right that very moment,
which the doctor said only takes about two weeks to get out of my system, and
the first month I would be pregnant. That would put me popping out a baby in
November (just in time for our 6 year dating anniversary). I just
knew that since God put this overwhelming desire to be a mama in my heart that
He would bless us with a child right away! <i>Do you know what happens when you
try to go by your timeline and not leave it up to God? </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="line-height: 115%;">Disappointment, that’s what?</i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">That was my first mistake.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">It was January 16<sup>th</sup></span></b><span style="line-height: 115%;">
when my sister texted me. “I’m late…” I texted back that she needed to take a
test. She assured me she would wait another week and then take one. Low and
behold, 45 minutes later around 10 pm I hear a knock on my door. My music is
loud and I am working on a cake, loving husband isn’t home, and its pouring rain
outside. I open my door and there is my sister, cold and wet, shaking with nerves, holding up a positive pregnancy test. You see, Delia and Ruben were kinda
trying since October but very content and positive that it would take a
while (we are the opposite of each other, can you tell?)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><img height="640" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/403939_3595160439556_914865310_n.jpg?oh=5158eeffcecd2ef180bf2c0910e0c7bc&oe=56140C69" width="425" /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I pulled her inside and tried to calm her
nerves. I prayed over her and asked God to bring her peace and assurance that
everything was happening according to </span><i><span style="font-family: "Albertus MT Lt","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">His mighty plan,</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">to let Him lead her, and for her to cast her worries upon Him. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Albertus MT Lt","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She wouldn’t
stop shaking. I couldn’t stop smiling.</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I just cried out
to the Lord to guide her though this and prayed she would lean on <i>HIM.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I had another test so she took it and there was
no mistake that she was pregnant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">She stayed over past midnight and we just
chatted about the baby and the future, my cake sitting unfinished. I didn’t go
to bed till after 2am finishing that rotten thing. Can’t tell you what it even
looked like now, all I remember about that night was that I was going to be an
aunt! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Guys, this post is going to be really long so let’s wait till tomorrow
for part two, okay? </span></i></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe I will still have the nerve to pour out my heart!</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-57187442061352659332015-07-12T18:49:00.001-05:002015-07-12T18:57:24.462-05:00and how does a baby turn twenty-six when all you did was blink?<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvVaj5ozSAWnHmJr5q8mvPb2psTdkKInLcMd4lqV1gIxIHYAvRlPUr9S43LJcPDo9fFCA302HA3jXqD8y5euizaEdoThVy4w6-FjEnURJm8vD7mn2zgFqlordFtUE1ESNzJLxJYJ9dHE/s1600/gym.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvVaj5ozSAWnHmJr5q8mvPb2psTdkKInLcMd4lqV1gIxIHYAvRlPUr9S43LJcPDo9fFCA302HA3jXqD8y5euizaEdoThVy4w6-FjEnURJm8vD7mn2zgFqlordFtUE1ESNzJLxJYJ9dHE/s640/gym.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This was twenty years ago. First tooth was missing and moments after this picture was taken you'd break your arm for the second time. <br />
<br />
Five years ago when you turned twenty-one I wrote these words -<br />
<br />
Words won't even come that seem powerful enough to express my thoughts at you turning twenty-one years old.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What makes this age so different? You don't look different or act different. The sun is still hot and the planets are still lined up. Everything looks and feels the same.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Everything but me.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's hard to describe. It's almost a feeling of dread. <b><i>There is a heaviness in my heart that spreads into my arms when I think of today. I physically feel it. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Am I, <i>for the very first time after twenty-one years of watching four children grow so rapidly before my eyes</i>, just beginning to realize that I will never get any of that time back? I know I've known this, I've even blogged about it - but I think it was only in my brain and<em> tonight my heart is not taking the news so well.</em></span><br />
<em><br /></em>
Five years later and my heart's still not taking so well this growing up all of you are doing.<b> So. Fast. </b><br />
<br />
And today you turn twenty-six. And you do look different. You are carrying my first grandchild. A baby girl and I know the moment I lay eyes on her I will be traveling in my mind back to a place and time that was the beginning of you. You, my darlin'. The beautiful baby girl born to your daddy and me. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And these words I wrote are the same -<br />
<br />
The first moment you were placed into my arms I felt a <em><span style="font-size: x-large;">strange and powerful kind of love</span> </em>as I stared at you for the first time. And I remember staring, for a long time - <b>just staring.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You and I began to grow up together. I seemed to know little more than you did. And because of that you suffered many things.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And there's a heaviness in my arms - a longing to just hold you again. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Just another chance to stare. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just another chance to say, <em>Wow, I love you, baby girl.</em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Happy Birthday.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<em>Love,</em><br />
<em>Mama</em><br />
<div>
<em><br /></em></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-68675926929528929482015-07-03T12:05:00.001-05:002015-07-03T12:05:53.906-05:00when the world hits hard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2N-cVPuudPq1BLi1Gz-6fI9G_EOvG1z8eG-702ZjqgQJCFFGKZ1K-zLSkJ7eow5nvQ99bg32wFI16NMjtjyDSs2f4zbIQL3ZTdtFwXBnw6T2KY58hVaU-vyNxMoFsNRAmUYWmZNP3nM/s1600/jesus-walks-on-water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2N-cVPuudPq1BLi1Gz-6fI9G_EOvG1z8eG-702ZjqgQJCFFGKZ1K-zLSkJ7eow5nvQ99bg32wFI16NMjtjyDSs2f4zbIQL3ZTdtFwXBnw6T2KY58hVaU-vyNxMoFsNRAmUYWmZNP3nM/s1600/jesus-walks-on-water.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My friend writes beautiful truthful godly words <u><a href="http://payingformyraising.blogspot.com/2015/07/finding-focus.html" target="_blank">here</a></u>.<br />
<br />
Highly recommended reading when the world hits hard.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-87058164969871348992015-06-29T16:26:00.000-05:002015-06-29T22:49:40.340-05:00when you are trying to raise a son into a man that sees<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iQ-dGRWPE4uURaeHqNO9bqxFYYtfNv59qh8QmEByTGpe-QtnihT7SaaFMju33Owuxnojp6AEoDZCitG5ydA06hHEoxwmyiOA6fsqe-S_roypfjMSfcCgLnxiAiKibpAWVnt9dgC8XE0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iQ-dGRWPE4uURaeHqNO9bqxFYYtfNv59qh8QmEByTGpe-QtnihT7SaaFMju33Owuxnojp6AEoDZCitG5ydA06hHEoxwmyiOA6fsqe-S_roypfjMSfcCgLnxiAiKibpAWVnt9dgC8XE0/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I want to raise a boy into a man<b style="font-style: italic;"> that sees.</b></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></i>
I send him over to ask if it's okay. He runs back all smiles -<i> yeah, Mommy, she says I can.</i><br />
<br />
So he is changing clothes and bug spraying when my phone rings. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Marie, Max just knocked on my door and asked if he can cut my grass.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes ma'am, is it okay?</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">It would be wonderful. Last night before I fell asleep I prayed to God to send someone to knock on my door today to cut my grass.</span></i></div>
<br />
We both laugh amd chat a minute and then hang up.<br />
<br />
His daddy gets him going and then he cuts. He follows the pattern and cuts circle after circle after circle. <br />
<br />
And I watch.<br />
<br />
And then my phone rings. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Marie, my son says he wants to send Max $30 for cutting the yard. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>No, thank you, but please no ma'am. That's not why he's cutting it. I don't want him to think he has to get paid.</i></span> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then she begins to cry. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I prayed to God last night before I went to bed that someone would knock on my door today and ask to cut my grass.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes ma'am, I know. </span></i></div>
<br />
And she hangs up crying.<br />
<br />
I go to the window and watch. He's cut the same spot so many times there's bald patches appearing. I go outside and guide him to a few missed spots. <br />
<br />
<i><b>Repost from<u><a href="http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2013/04/when-im-given-so-much-more-grace-than-i.html" target="_blank"> here</a></u></b></i> - We were blessed beyond any form of our worth with three beautiful girls and my years were over forty and much time had passed since <b><i>we made the unspoken bond of no more children by not speaking of it any longer.</i></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">There are some things that are very hard to explain. And the fear is if you try you might sound somewhat extravagant. Or like a dreamer. <em>Or just plain foolish.</em></span><br />
<br />
But on a night earlier pressed against each other I laughed loud and told him <em><span style="font-size: x-large;">we just made a baby.</span></em><strong> I knew it. I felt it. I can't explain it.</strong> I said it but <strong><em>how does a woman know such a thing at such a time?</em></strong><br />
<br />
But I did.<br />
<br />
And I was right.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyu0sbQTR0UkIIshlIVioY4KzEcN0W9Ke7y20GGGsb5pq0ckLsTtUHLaQ8VHdLiX-OFvyaJJuq34AQRyq9JH4o8-Xoz74_-JvBEidLLn7vQGQzp_U257J5D-d1JX8kYjN7ssqfZ1bUVM/s1600/Max's+Birth028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyu0sbQTR0UkIIshlIVioY4KzEcN0W9Ke7y20GGGsb5pq0ckLsTtUHLaQ8VHdLiX-OFvyaJJuq34AQRyq9JH4o8-Xoz74_-JvBEidLLn7vQGQzp_U257J5D-d1JX8kYjN7ssqfZ1bUVM/s640/Max's+Birth028.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And weeks passed and he came home as I walked out of the laundry room and right into his arms and cried and there were only three words -<br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">You're pregnant?</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes.</span></em><br />
<br />
And I said words that were too honest when I wondered aloud <em>why would God give us another child?</em> I didn't want another baby or need another baby and <em><span style="font-size: x-large;">why would I be pregnant unless He was giving us a son? </span> Why would I be pregnant if it were a girl?</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>Some things will shame till the day we die.</strong></span><br />
<br />
And I didn't realize how badly I wanted a boy until the thought that I might not have one.<br />
<br />
<b>But I was afraid to say the words too loudly or too often.</b><br />
<br />
And on a table too short in cold dark room I held the hand of the man I love and watched only him. <strong>And there it was. </strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Wand moved and fingers touched keys and I saw it on his face before she spoke the words.</span><br />
<br />
<em>It's a boy.</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But I already knew for his smile started slowly and he saw and looked at me in a way he had never looked at me before. </span><br />
<br />
And then my excitement turned to fear as I realized I had no idea how to take care of a boy. <br />
<br />
But I could figure the taking care of part out. <br />
<br />
But raising a son?. <i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">How do you raise a man?</span></b></i><br />
<br />
To be honest I had come to believe God didn't think I'd be any good at it. I guess He believed I was the daughter raising type.<br />
<br />
But here, now, he was granting us a son. Blessing us with a son.<br />
<br />
In this <u><a href="http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2013/04/because-god-does-whatever-he-pleases.html" target="_blank">post</a></u> I continue on to explain a promise I made to God when it appeared later on in the pregnancy that something was very wrong with Max.<br />
<br />
I'm still not going to share that promise here in this white space. It's personal. Too personal. And it was a hard promise. One I want to keep but am not so sure I'll ever be able to. I think of it often.<br />
<br />
So here we are raising a son. <br />
<br />
Girls are natural care givers, mostly kind-hearted and compassionate. Instinct drives much of what they do. A mother's instinct. <br />
<br />
But boys like bad guys and heroes and dirt and mess and often get wrapped up in their own little gross worlds, too wrapped up to <i style="font-weight: bold;">just notice things around them. </i><span style="font-size: x-large;">They go too fast to<i style="font-weight: bold;"> just notice. </i></span><br />
<br />
And boys seem to not have chivalry in this modern age. I don't want the age of harlots and brew and turkey legs devoured around an uncivilized table. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But there has to be an in-between, because boys growing up now are missing the mark. Parents are missing the mark. </span><br />
<br />
I want to raise a son into a man. <br />
<br />
A real man. A man like Christ the man. A wise, kind, compassionate, loving man who has the hands of a hard worker. A just man who angers with injustice and a <i>zeal for God's house that will consume him. John 2:17 </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A man who is not afraid of hard work and sweat. One who is not afraid to be gentle. A man who never tires of loving one woman and telling her so. <br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I want to raise a son who grows into a man <i>who notices.</i> One who notices things going on around him. A man with a keen sense of what needs to be done and then <b>just does it. </b> </span>One who notices a woman carrying a box while men stand all around her. Notices an elderly neighbor's yard that needs attention. A man who notices the child in the corner without a friend. And then becomes that friend. <br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I want to raise a boy into a man<b> that sees. </b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-1012646581682068282015-06-10T15:26:00.000-05:002015-06-10T15:26:03.376-05:00when you can't believe in statistics because how can you bear that? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypnZajKJAdjL1p40MOt4-UbpDAwSy3Ay87h-lwwh_cONKsPG5YPB4K24UdrTa1uTcR2vLjwW2WdL0_Y3LfnrhTFLpWozHOjH6ydUAy07_w-Lcz_YBo5mZb_nppPYGol4U-zbiaWq36NE/s1600/bigstock-Praying-Hands-Of-Child-1343088-Large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypnZajKJAdjL1p40MOt4-UbpDAwSy3Ay87h-lwwh_cONKsPG5YPB4K24UdrTa1uTcR2vLjwW2WdL0_Y3LfnrhTFLpWozHOjH6ydUAy07_w-Lcz_YBo5mZb_nppPYGol4U-zbiaWq36NE/s640/bigstock-Praying-Hands-Of-Child-1343088-Large.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It was 2001 and Judy walked up to me on the right hand side by the front doors and said, <em>You should direct Vacation Bible School. <strong>God told me so.</strong></em></span><br />
<br />
It was more of a command than a request.<br />
<br />
Now, fourteen years later, I've been to Japan and the United Kingdom and the Amazon and . . .<br />
<br />
I guess I've been all over the world. <br />
<br />
So many years of prayers. <span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>Over a thousand children</strong>.</span> Many now grown and gone and I wonder where and question.<br />
<br />
And it's scary. Every year I come close to quitting. And if you really get to the heart of it I know <i>I'm just scared. </i><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">God will happen in spite of me.</span> </b> Not because of me. <br />
<br />
I remind myself.<br />
<br />
This year I watched them as I always do from the back. They raise their arms and stomp their feet and sing about taming their tongues and walking with the wise. <br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Where will they all go? What will they do? Who will they become? </span><strong></strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Will they say yes now or later -</b></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>or never?</b></span></em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
They sing and dance and laugh and I begin to beg again, as every year.<br />
<br />
I look at the back of their little heads and know all will one day die, <strong>some with eternity being separation and fire. </strong><br />
<br />
Today I don't even make it through the doors at the beginning of the day before the tears fall and I wonder <strong><em>which ones?</em></strong> Is it the little brown haired boy that sits on the third row? The one with the glasses and cow-licked hair? Or the little curly haired blond girl with blue eyes that light up when she sings? <br />
<br />
There's the beautiful little girl who keeps walking right out of her flip flops and the quiet lovely child in the corner soaking in every word and motion. Is it them? The same little ones whose mothers held them close?<br />
<br />
I stand in the prayer room before the morning begins and choke out my words so badly I have to ask someone to take over<strong>. <em>And they stay with me and cry with me and petition with me.</em> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Not for one but for all. </span></strong><br />
<br />
Statistics will tell you mathematically every child here will not accept Christ and spend an eternity in Heaven. Statistics will tell you of one thousand children only one-hundred and seventy will even attend church. And I can't bear that. How do you bear that? <br />
<br />
But I do not have to. I can't believe in statistics.<br />
<br />
I can only believe in faith.<br />
<br />
I believe in my God, your God, the one and only God. Lord, soften their hearts and prepare them and let them hear and see and know and say <em><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">yes.</span></strong></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because everyday, somewhere, some child is hearing the name <em><strong>Jesus.</strong></em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-54676990123640656722015-05-25T16:25:00.000-05:002015-05-25T16:25:48.249-05:00when you turn sweet sixteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4NDukc0Wl12ifmB8VMtE9LahCfJkIzgTyqZmacmwCaf8WPTybDdpYmQrJBIEhOK3sLjPHqN1e4ouQowCBHzyVmBtOOZ-Q02slDVEtR4NpBFQ0ND50dNMrEVwna6SSCpMxSr4JNEhYaE/s1600/IMG_4110-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4NDukc0Wl12ifmB8VMtE9LahCfJkIzgTyqZmacmwCaf8WPTybDdpYmQrJBIEhOK3sLjPHqN1e4ouQowCBHzyVmBtOOZ-Q02slDVEtR4NpBFQ0ND50dNMrEVwna6SSCpMxSr4JNEhYaE/s640/IMG_4110-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbzoEE_uVClhhdWhk4RMa_4Pc0NMMGBy3q7hSC8zgdZAp2-x5cDxcD2M2vfp1Y1TMa8AKwCaEwOsoxqP4EJbTAduBkOKQNKBOJ__XVCVsF739Fg7HQyZ1b4rKJ6bf6kEciHc5HvOBue0/s1600/00000977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbzoEE_uVClhhdWhk4RMa_4Pc0NMMGBy3q7hSC8zgdZAp2-x5cDxcD2M2vfp1Y1TMa8AKwCaEwOsoxqP4EJbTAduBkOKQNKBOJ__XVCVsF739Fg7HQyZ1b4rKJ6bf6kEciHc5HvOBue0/s640/00000977.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
It was the day before you were to be born. She walked into the largest of the baby suites - the one they had set me up in because I was to be there so long, the one big enough for your sisters to bring sleeping bags and stay with me at night, the one you would be born in - and she looked at my iv.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>It needs changing again. There's no place left to put it but your neck or foot.</em> </div>
<br />
I probably cried. I was tired. <span style="font-size: x-large;">I could not wait for you to get here.</span> Could this pregnancy get much worse? It all began the day I passed out in the dressing room of Limited Too and your Uncle Markie scooped me up and carried me to the waiting ambulance.<br />
<br />
And now Bluebird can't go to the mall with Delia without anxiety that something will happen. <i>A little PTSD, Shelby?</i><br />
<em></em><br />
When a tear was found in my gallbladder and there was nothing they could do but wait for you to come. When every bite made me sick and I slept with a bowl by my bed just in case I couldn't make the bathroom. <em><span style="font-size: x-large;">When your big sister was so afraid she slept on a pallet right at my side of the bed.</span></em><br />
<br />
The nurse held off on the iv change and less than 24 hours later they made me so comfortable I never felt a moment's pain and you brought more than just a new baby girl into our lives.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiVAD6L8EylWTpW3IevZxjispGqpjztjaZfGGNOUGf8J0uLOdyqSzbnS9q8_8Wqen_B0K9Uy4ox6or87_4PEuPXv0LBITYPwx6q5i8Lpg1XyXdx0By8Ilt-VIAEZOi2ZuCGtx1Ve2AZQ/s1600/00000577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiVAD6L8EylWTpW3IevZxjispGqpjztjaZfGGNOUGf8J0uLOdyqSzbnS9q8_8Wqen_B0K9Uy4ox6or87_4PEuPXv0LBITYPwx6q5i8Lpg1XyXdx0By8Ilt-VIAEZOi2ZuCGtx1Ve2AZQ/s640/00000577.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsvYNHcSxWGMHU1juwYT0fy38-G5t99UZLiyTL_Q2g_3LxjXUvlJeZgQzMxNFm15kLCOvv7hmkH0YSjEqBArZIya7wPGh0soZIGbci47pFsPyMcN8IxNKaNGtZduDP0MGsEPG_rxFj-Y/s1600/00000730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsvYNHcSxWGMHU1juwYT0fy38-G5t99UZLiyTL_Q2g_3LxjXUvlJeZgQzMxNFm15kLCOvv7hmkH0YSjEqBArZIya7wPGh0soZIGbci47pFsPyMcN8IxNKaNGtZduDP0MGsEPG_rxFj-Y/s640/00000730.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxL_pGaB_Pkdfg7PpnJxOxfo_ddJgrkA1BRuuxcieYoxv39JfciJxpxZ7hLVl7CFpAW440Axiww4gFhtT_mvu-kgtMhkDtioWfQu_VBFi0VXxsUvl4mEOBQQvVDVhWrpDX78iDZxiInX8/s1600/00000029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxL_pGaB_Pkdfg7PpnJxOxfo_ddJgrkA1BRuuxcieYoxv39JfciJxpxZ7hLVl7CFpAW440Axiww4gFhtT_mvu-kgtMhkDtioWfQu_VBFi0VXxsUvl4mEOBQQvVDVhWrpDX78iDZxiInX8/s640/00000029.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<strong style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></strong></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<strong style="font-size: xx-large;">You brought joy and happiness matched only by the two before you</strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"> and you were mothered by three and they were bigger mama lions than I was.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34scsYgKTOXW1b2HDPsJhQT8XwI1p9N351XcO265XvKGNIu6yAVat_g8Nh24YRiSDetgLzmLkQjp7UHtfrAklxIFBZEV6aBQZIX_aWK3Vb2C3N_kc7yUYt9jfbzWYCmsCnNIPj96CbQ8/s1600/00000644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34scsYgKTOXW1b2HDPsJhQT8XwI1p9N351XcO265XvKGNIu6yAVat_g8Nh24YRiSDetgLzmLkQjp7UHtfrAklxIFBZEV6aBQZIX_aWK3Vb2C3N_kc7yUYt9jfbzWYCmsCnNIPj96CbQ8/s640/00000644.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCqCj1Hi4DxF-XRQAc0up-cPySquACeqiy9NotMvtts7jWTqHgNLb7S9eaNGcnTjndPhBrq-50ViwC5RMFH32crHGEO4RCcIxBUijGYM5RSa44QyuIzVbKj9fR1utQduHiYeWrhm_4sc/s1600/00000402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCqCj1Hi4DxF-XRQAc0up-cPySquACeqiy9NotMvtts7jWTqHgNLb7S9eaNGcnTjndPhBrq-50ViwC5RMFH32crHGEO4RCcIxBUijGYM5RSa44QyuIzVbKj9fR1utQduHiYeWrhm_4sc/s640/00000402.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2sewEF-f-d4l5oKUbCqUS_39E1J4EQKfcaB3v2MsnZIbqzw7mcot9YxoFQn9ojdmztK6EsD9wPBiHxhBuEszc-2gfgxPbHXxz-KWMvdduXgAA0a0N3-wybhTmaLt_93Nc-MIJ3xlFws/s1600/00000396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2sewEF-f-d4l5oKUbCqUS_39E1J4EQKfcaB3v2MsnZIbqzw7mcot9YxoFQn9ojdmztK6EsD9wPBiHxhBuEszc-2gfgxPbHXxz-KWMvdduXgAA0a0N3-wybhTmaLt_93Nc-MIJ3xlFws/s640/00000396.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">To know you is to love you</span>.</b></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGK-0DvMmZTufw7lXr-M3rfJZ6xkXc0rdejIHA4opmsxwiAPTjB_nYqyrI4Hy4JxcUHceRVlln2gS2tObl74pXVWXNZJtzPTMneIuLTZdApihGWwRXm1X9nXuJgufizlliyC2z3nyWlnY/s1600/00000666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGK-0DvMmZTufw7lXr-M3rfJZ6xkXc0rdejIHA4opmsxwiAPTjB_nYqyrI4Hy4JxcUHceRVlln2gS2tObl74pXVWXNZJtzPTMneIuLTZdApihGWwRXm1X9nXuJgufizlliyC2z3nyWlnY/s640/00000666.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
You are still the silly little girl full of excitement that climbed the doors like coconut trees. <span style="font-size: x-large;">That <em>feated up</em> when you were hot and touched my cheek when you told stories.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVu1hICelU9vNnouh772zI7ecl-nvzeLc0z02Tdr05cL5E3_h7H7Uhf2NkcjOsih4PVkvIjKYs1MVmA4iKT_pXOvgagQeXnnd-Qdm44C9OAtjt-WKuQ_qQM6mK5clUUt2reuXwcrhxKlo/s1600/00000776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVu1hICelU9vNnouh772zI7ecl-nvzeLc0z02Tdr05cL5E3_h7H7Uhf2NkcjOsih4PVkvIjKYs1MVmA4iKT_pXOvgagQeXnnd-Qdm44C9OAtjt-WKuQ_qQM6mK5clUUt2reuXwcrhxKlo/s640/00000776.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiCGloAwgGLXUsVqLvKm_xU9Ay6Iow6KExFll01eRudBAfzM3DGh2obKWWRcgVy3bf-5hEkb6k5sU-uJVtBPHZQo3YHcg6Xyc4HeMuqjkfDFNeUV6wLsU1cfE7ec8KEyLth3eK2C15AAI/s1600/00000512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiCGloAwgGLXUsVqLvKm_xU9Ay6Iow6KExFll01eRudBAfzM3DGh2obKWWRcgVy3bf-5hEkb6k5sU-uJVtBPHZQo3YHcg6Xyc4HeMuqjkfDFNeUV6wLsU1cfE7ec8KEyLth3eK2C15AAI/s640/00000512.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtXkh5EuaaX3CsTApACFah_bzkFXX9MmkfzcrBeiRWtrgnRLCJ2Cc8lCiwXshDqyyzCUMOHDcr6sgAt-JKboSuNi4BJIIoyYp0oATOouz37Rd5M3F9DC75N0-t9PK4UsAxB-rctPrNDU/s1600/00000069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtXkh5EuaaX3CsTApACFah_bzkFXX9MmkfzcrBeiRWtrgnRLCJ2Cc8lCiwXshDqyyzCUMOHDcr6sgAt-JKboSuNi4BJIIoyYp0oATOouz37Rd5M3F9DC75N0-t9PK4UsAxB-rctPrNDU/s640/00000069.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HyGipr2DwnsGT67d8gftvLRHG6E5pnO1-lXu1hzNW9KRECGtasdWr-vEU-C7KfMnX8yzi_TSJCR5nfIrDpzxvt16eplYO-SNP6KCILsfLDi7-nutrLJ1a1EZKwoHgr2scXBS-C8X_D8/s1600/00000234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HyGipr2DwnsGT67d8gftvLRHG6E5pnO1-lXu1hzNW9KRECGtasdWr-vEU-C7KfMnX8yzi_TSJCR5nfIrDpzxvt16eplYO-SNP6KCILsfLDi7-nutrLJ1a1EZKwoHgr2scXBS-C8X_D8/s640/00000234.jpg" width="430" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It takes you forever to get ready and </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>you've got me obsessed with Downton Abbey. </b><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<i>They aren't really cancelling it, right? Maybe it's just a guise to get you to watch the series finale and they are secretly bringing Matthew back. A little like the Dallas/Pam/Bobby shower scene. We can hope. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And you love you some TV and movies.<br />
<br />
And you cried buckets of tears over Pilgrim and then took the stage and<span style="font-size: x-large;"> blew me away. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>I am so very terribly not humble at all proud of you. </i></b> </span> <i> </i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I'd ask you to just slow down a little but that's one of the impossible mysteries of life - <b>how swiftly time grows up your babies. </b></span><i style="font-size: xx-large;"> </i><br />
<i style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-size: xx-large;">Stay here in Merica, okay? </i><span style="font-size: x-large;">And you love you some Survivor. </span><br />
<i style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-size: xx-large;">I love you my sweet sixteen sack of baby bones. </i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTsiK7xdr6rIATUtz-lGD8aznnz839BoFYpQ9AJgONl_WMA2pIgiKofQfpiOK6RS1oDPihkvek6EkhBUMN0IEFrWbIcYqt7DJmy5Zv1x8p7pT5pBApkv592wCkFj2iwBkA8woQ24jIp4/s1600/IMG_5660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTsiK7xdr6rIATUtz-lGD8aznnz839BoFYpQ9AJgONl_WMA2pIgiKofQfpiOK6RS1oDPihkvek6EkhBUMN0IEFrWbIcYqt7DJmy5Zv1x8p7pT5pBApkv592wCkFj2iwBkA8woQ24jIp4/s640/IMG_5660.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VgqWrnszzegE_zVacAkUm-yvkdX1C5qrmYXQsZnYF5r6jqPmLIi7fdcZh3AoGPtCOZgXQAnRrHh1d3i9RWXdAndRRHGjcb7NY9P3Mcbp5ml0YXZGzQlLr3Wer5hNLror1JdJKY6iFzQ/s1600/IMG_6901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VgqWrnszzegE_zVacAkUm-yvkdX1C5qrmYXQsZnYF5r6jqPmLIi7fdcZh3AoGPtCOZgXQAnRrHh1d3i9RWXdAndRRHGjcb7NY9P3Mcbp5ml0YXZGzQlLr3Wer5hNLror1JdJKY6iFzQ/s640/IMG_6901.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<i style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-91984135472565456542015-05-17T10:35:00.000-05:002015-05-17T10:39:40.734-05:00Max says . . .And I find this photo on my phone. A surprise gift from Maxster.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphiShX_mt_U6vMEIua7ooFMN9BkjJeV6lXSFMm678XtAJODIuTFOZvPx46L4Tg9TUuPIdcBPlw_wiTSGTP9Aq0X9tzGd5pAJ_dXh46pDcliXqX5gYuojJff-izcHIZJ44mgM13pcEisQ/s1600/IMG_0392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphiShX_mt_U6vMEIua7ooFMN9BkjJeV6lXSFMm678XtAJODIuTFOZvPx46L4Tg9TUuPIdcBPlw_wiTSGTP9Aq0X9tzGd5pAJ_dXh46pDcliXqX5gYuojJff-izcHIZJ44mgM13pcEisQ/s640/IMG_0392.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Which reminds me of<u><a href="http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2010/10/surprise-mama.html" target="_blank"> when I found these on the camera</a></u>, one day, out of the blue. One of the best days.<br />
<br />
And this morning, cuddled in bed exhausted from the week, we have this conversation.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Thank you for being so good this week. You were patient and never complained about all the work for the play. And you pitched in and worked hard. You're a super son! </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">laughter as he buries his head deep into my shoulder</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm gonna buy you a shirt that says, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Super Son</b>.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Mommy, that'd be so cool!</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I can wear one that says <b>Super Son</b>, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">and Daddy can wear one that says, <b>Super Dad</b>.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">And you can wear one that says,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">wait for it - - </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I have a Super Son</b>!</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">What? Maxster, wait! There is something wrong with this picture. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">You get a <b>Super Son</b> shirt, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Daddy gets a <b>Super Dad</b> shirt, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">and I get a <b>I got a Super Son </b>shirt?</span></i></div>
<br />
huge laughter as I hug him close and marvel that he is here. This gift. This son of mine. <br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-47746072618814300892015-05-10T22:48:00.001-05:002015-05-24T21:35:14.139-05:00her first mother's day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2ibRKgTaPsBi5X16AZ-61d6wud7VNAgeF4aUmNPHn7CaeZiXiF4u4tMIWjxdfyQT7CEKUZVFXUnwImsbo4pjca4R4jnT8UlZKJwfipiA2kwuA0ProcpjTKYbKw3I1CgMhPZ3Aw1HQ5s/s1600/newborn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2ibRKgTaPsBi5X16AZ-61d6wud7VNAgeF4aUmNPHn7CaeZiXiF4u4tMIWjxdfyQT7CEKUZVFXUnwImsbo4pjca4R4jnT8UlZKJwfipiA2kwuA0ProcpjTKYbKw3I1CgMhPZ3Aw1HQ5s/s640/newborn.jpg" width="454" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was Saturday and Gregg was working when labor pains began. And I didn't know what labor pains felt like. So I called Mama. And she said she couldn't remember and told me to call my cousin Teresa. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But Lena wouldn't let me. She just put me in the car as firmly as she <u><a href="http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2012/07/saying-yes-to-dress.html" target="_blank">made me buy that pregnancy test and Christmas onesie seven months earlier</a></u> and drove me to the hospital.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And they put me on the monitor and keep me a few hours. Then they sent me home with Braxton Hicks. If google had been then I'd been all over that. Cause y'all, that's what I do.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So Monday came and I worked all day. Can't remember where.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But Tuesday came and I worked all day. With the sun to Louisville and back late afternoon. And I felt bad. By the time Mama and I hit Carthage all I wanted to do was sleep through me some Braxton Hicks.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I did. I went straight to bed on the sofa. Gregg comes home at eight or so and we call the doctor. We'd done the little minutes thing and pains were three or so minutes apart. I was told to come on now.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I didn't want to. It was Braxton Hicks. I had six weeks to go. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So by ten the pains were ninety seconds apart. And I was told to come NOW. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I needed a shower and my hair needed washing. So Gregg and I fought and I took a shower. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I needed make-up cause I was all cute and pregnant and I was gonna stay cute and I believed pregnant. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So Gregg and I fought and I put make-up on.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And when they wheeled me into a room my pains were only a minute apart. And nothing could be done. It was not Braxton Hicks and when Mama and I were alone in the room I thought my water broke. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But it was blood. Lots of blood. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I was hemorrhaging and she was coming and I was in trouble. And so was she.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then they gave morphine. And all I remember was burning and some cursing they heard in the waiting room and it was kinda like a TV show when I asked where I was and yelled at them to get her out. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And that was it. For over twenty-four hours I remember nothing. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But when I woke I remember her. She was tiny. Preemie, but healthy.<br />
<br />
Beautiful. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
And now it's Mother's Day twenty-six years later and my baby's having a baby. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And the feeling is a little like amazing mixed with awe and much gratitude. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My baby girl's first Mother's Day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My baby's having a baby. </div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-43323603738251896042015-04-23T12:24:00.000-05:002015-04-23T12:25:10.998-05:00when you should have hid the cologne the first timeIt's been a really long while since I told y'all some of the cute things Max says and does. And, well, part of that is because as boys grow, which I'm still learning all about, they don't grow in cuteness as much as they grow in grossness. <br />
<br />
Burps, armpit farts, the back of knee farts - does that area of the body have a name? kneepit farts?<br />
<br />
And I don't wanta scar him for life or anything.<br />
<br />
Maybe this will only scar him temporarily ...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Mama, I'm gonna write a diary.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Boys don't have diaries, baby. Maybe you should make it a journal?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>But I wanta write Dear Diary.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>But I don't think boys have diaries.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Okay.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A short time later.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Mama, do you want to know what I wrote?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I'd actually love to know what you wrote, but I don't think you are supposed to share your journal.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It's okay.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Okay, I'd love to hear.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Dear Diary </i>(in which he just looks up and grins)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have an awesome life </i>(in which he just looks up and grins)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I wrote another one.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Dear Diary</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I want to start wearing perfume.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Baby, boys don't wear perfume. They wear cologne.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Oh, okay. I want to start wearing cologne.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>What kind of cologne do you want to wear?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The kind that attracts girls </i>(in which he just looks up and grins)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Daddy's got some cologne. See if you like it. </i>(in which I made a mistake and had to sleep with my head under the covers that night)</div>
<br />
And then today, weeks later -<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDImwriRuPgFOTY-RF70ZP2S72xSr6n39oquXssHbafxS4No5i6ZX4Lc9C2HHSdT2URdXeiypq4up3APChNHZyA8JBB0utmt6Div6b_RukBVHTZaqszdJYuqtHp-HmYhi8f800EZsJGI/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDImwriRuPgFOTY-RF70ZP2S72xSr6n39oquXssHbafxS4No5i6ZX4Lc9C2HHSdT2URdXeiypq4up3APChNHZyA8JBB0utmt6Div6b_RukBVHTZaqszdJYuqtHp-HmYhi8f800EZsJGI/s1600/photo.jpg" height="640" width="590" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-49826579242342109992015-04-16T02:17:00.001-05:002015-04-16T10:38:31.473-05:00when you bash your husbands just a little<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNdJlSDf03MW1H36qKgZnAzt_g7KRu9H4mRlJ784g-cCSN5PAVec_ezRO6vkw9t_3UpSwRD8Fpg-pcsLOXA7QUOrQwQJTjDw2F3_DeN1wGBVXWKXFHz8WghMDL5KpViYO6nmROrULAQc/s1600/FredandBarney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNdJlSDf03MW1H36qKgZnAzt_g7KRu9H4mRlJ784g-cCSN5PAVec_ezRO6vkw9t_3UpSwRD8Fpg-pcsLOXA7QUOrQwQJTjDw2F3_DeN1wGBVXWKXFHz8WghMDL5KpViYO6nmROrULAQc/s1600/FredandBarney.jpg" height="638" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><u><a href="http://payingformyraising.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jennifer</a></u>: <i> Painting a small room...better to go lighter or darker?</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me:<i> Lighter!!!!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;">her:<i> Can I put gray in a bathroom when my hall is brown?</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me:<i> No u can't. Period. The end.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You can use a gray. It's just gotta be more silver. Not gray. Or grey. Or gris. Or grau. I'm sure there's more but I don't know them. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;">her: <i> Why aren't you here helping me do this?</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me:<i> You haven't asked I guess.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;">her:<i> I guess that makes it my fault.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me:<i> Isn't it always?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Oh wait. That's Gregg. Sorry!</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We can go to Lowes.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;">her:<i> Yep... cause I don't listen to my elders! hahahaha</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me:<i> Oh no you didn't...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;">her:<i> Sorry...I shouldn't have.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me:<i> Now you can go to Lowes alone.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;">her:<i> <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I already did...well, with Ronnie, but that's the same thing. </span>He suggested we paint the room white - or beige. Yuk!</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<b><i>Disclaimer -</i> </b>Even though a bathroom is small you can often paint it dark. <br />
The tile and open tub area make it work. <br />
It's not floor to ceiling dark in a small space.<br />
It becomes cozy. <br />
<b> And husbands spend so much time in there -<i> it makes it nice for them. </i> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-92015939449623482372015-04-13T10:17:00.000-05:002020-02-14T22:13:02.608-06:00to all my young friends ...To all my young friends I see every week and I really can <i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">see </span></b></i>you. And I really do remember exactly where you are. I haven't forgotten.<span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;"> </span>All I have to do is close my eyes to be fifteen again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UWp4Ty58KCdMprhzs-dEMtF8l7Q0lqCESXEeqWGfInqp8iQzfMe_LolcDfBddUK-j9GQQhP66fPGA6lLelRWQxE9P2t3CWkRhIvZNdbqZsiowDDS2nmkEpSKnyUZ9A-1Ad57ZqZsZFA/s1600/sticks-and-stones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UWp4Ty58KCdMprhzs-dEMtF8l7Q0lqCESXEeqWGfInqp8iQzfMe_LolcDfBddUK-j9GQQhP66fPGA6lLelRWQxE9P2t3CWkRhIvZNdbqZsiowDDS2nmkEpSKnyUZ9A-1Ad57ZqZsZFA/s1600/sticks-and-stones.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>You - you're doing better than you think you are</strong> -</span><br />
<br />
and words spoken do hurt, don't they? <i>I don't understand</i> or<i> I don't remember </i>or you think <b>you are the only one</b>. But <i><b>I do understand and remember and you are not the only one.</b> </i><br />
<br />
<br />
I'm not really sure why Mama let me go that day. It was barely summer hot 1981, not too hot but hot enough I slipped on shorts early that morning before he drove up in that white beat-up Ford to get me. He'd later trade it for an old beat up yellow Pinto.<br />
<br />
I slid in. All the way over I slid. His knee touched mine and he drove the hour with one arm on the wheel and the other across the back of the seat. And I was crazy mad about him.<br />
<br />
I was only fifteen. Too young to be sliding over and way too young to be crazy mad for anyone. But there ain't no denying it. <br />
<br />
We drove to the lake for his family reunion. And I remember being nervous. He was tall and handsome. A football player and none too shy with the girls. I was skinny. Maybe ninety pounds soaking wet? I slept with a retainer every night not so patiently waiting for the gap in my two front teeth to close. I had contacts now so the plastic frames were gone but the Mississippi humidity was still unforgiving to my hair. <br />
<br />
And he was crazy mad about me. I was fun and funny and flirty and all these things, to him, made up for me not having the look of a typical girlfriend to one of the hotshot football players. But I was not an<b><i> it</i></b> girl. Never was never will be. And even he couldn't fix that.<br />
<br />
And Mama didn't like him. And Mama always got her way. And here we clashed and clashed hard. And so began the beginning of a high school stand-off. I did everything right at first. I waited. He waited. We waited the required time she had said before the answer was still no and we took matters into our own hands. And we were caught, often. Almost every time we were caught.<br />
<br />
So I'm not really sure why Mama had agreed to let me go this day. <br />
<br />
But here I was. And there I stood with his family under wooden pavilion surrounded by chicken and potato salad and jello molds melting in the sun when she looked me up and down and said<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Well, James honey, love really is blind, isn't it. </i></div>
<br />
With a period at the end. Because the question had already been asked and answered. <br />
<br />
And tears stung and I barely made it out of the crowd before I broke down.<br />
<br />
And he took me to the fire tower that overlooked that national forest and told me it didn't matter. Told me she was the one who was blind.<br />
<br />
And he loved me four years till I wrote <i>Dear John. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
It was Shakespeare who wrote love is blind. And he wrote it often but once for Jessica loving Lorenzo and it was romantic. <br />
<br />
But it wasn't romantic that day and sticks and stones aren't all that hurt.<br />
<br />
And I didn't get over it. For years I didn't get over it. I carried it around and often took it out. Am I over it now? I think so.<br />
<br />
And that's okay. To just <i>think so</i>. Because it is a huge part of me - and maybe I don't want it completely gone. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">And you are okay. Because you are doing better than you think you are.</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Because He who began a good work in you will be faithful to the end.</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>And the end is a really really long time away. So relax. Treat others well. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Let every word spoken to you and every action done to you grow you into the person God created you to be. Not the person hateful words and actions can make you be. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>You control you. </i></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">As Cinderella's mama told her - Have courage and be kind. </span></b></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-43774871218833563162015-04-11T14:26:00.000-05:002015-04-11T14:53:15.829-05:00when I don't know what I am doing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeB8n6bvij3_r-gf8pFgU2QSAhWRbOPvvwGuaEneGoTJKf1_fDWqD2niQ1xf1ujF5EZMxOBv_iYvTdn4TM6-WqUMO8iAgHQhbgsPyREy7px0vyOZeswLDqHLeOuhWHyR1yOlH6Yb1hyphenhyphenA/s1600/bigstock-Pause-D-Button-8446993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeB8n6bvij3_r-gf8pFgU2QSAhWRbOPvvwGuaEneGoTJKf1_fDWqD2niQ1xf1ujF5EZMxOBv_iYvTdn4TM6-WqUMO8iAgHQhbgsPyREy7px0vyOZeswLDqHLeOuhWHyR1yOlH6Yb1hyphenhyphenA/s1600/bigstock-Pause-D-Button-8446993.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I do not like to consider myself a quitter. But right now I'm really considering quitting and that makes me think I'm just one wonky decision away from being on God's bad side.</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Don't we just think crazy when we aren't really <i><b>thinking?</b></i> We are just <i><b>reacting. </b></i></span><br />
<br />
What's wrong with me? And maybe you?<br />
<br />
I'm sitting here wondering if maybe I should have tried harder? Maybe I should stay longer? <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Aren't you loyal?</i> I ask myself.</span><br />
<br />
People who draw lines in the sand are not liked. People who say <i>I'm done</i> and walk away are looked at by the ones who say <i>Should have put me in their shoes, I would have done that differently</i> as quitters.<br />
<br />
I'm feeling like everything gentle and Christ-like in me is being strangled as I struggle to know what to do. <br />
<br />
I've poured an endless amount of energy into a bottomless pit and<i> is the Spirit keeping me in place for reasons unclear to me </i>or<i> am I a coward? </i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Or would it truthfully<i> be very brave?</i></span><br />
<i><br /></i>
And I want to walk away gracefully. I don't want to answer questions or give reasons. Or make excuses for my behavior because telling the truth would be like pulling out my bow and firing parting shots.<br />
<br />
I told my girls<u><a href="http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2012/11/when-there-is-only-one-thing-that.html" target="_blank"> in this post</a></u> that when you are hurt and look back on it one day in the future, the only thing that will matter is how you acted. Did you keep your dignity and self-respect and walk away or did you stake your reputation on validation? Are you proud of yourself or does your soul burn with shame at the memory?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I find myself praying often that God will remove a certain weakness from me.</span> Paul prayed three times for a thorn in his flesh to be removed before he wrote that this handicap was a gift. That a messenger of Satan was sent to harass him. But just as Jesus has the keys to hell he overrules Satan's trickery and in <span style="font-size: x-large;">God's master plan we are made perfect - <i>in our weakness. </i></span> God grants me this gift to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. <br />
<br />
For when we rely on our strength we always end up brought to our knees. <span style="font-size: x-large; font-style: italic;">But aren't our knees a great place to be when we fail? </span>Just another twist God gives us in all His goodness.<br />
<br />
A friend told me yesterday that when it is very hard, when it seems like I'm jumping off a bridge, that it is probably God. And this is very hard, and I really have nothing much to fall back on except sheer obedience to God. <span style="font-size: x-large;">But oh, praise God, that is all I need.</span><br />
<br />
So right now I'm pausing and listening for an at-ease command or my marching orders.<br />
<br />
And God has promised me in His word that His grace is sufficient for me. That when I am weak He is strong. And I am so weak. I don't want a self-help book to find my strengths. Just let me be weak. Let God be magnified in the sheer fact that <i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I don't know what I am doing. </span></b></i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-61745717327920411212015-04-09T15:01:00.000-05:002015-04-09T15:01:15.837-05:00when i stuck that pin right in that hiney<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zY4N0I_zjVVd-hhipJ5OV4G3Eo_6fbFt3UTbTr47F5UAwziwifHlgf9sH13rlTHX2sksnBAGp_qKEYp4Sl321YN_2ryQZX2hFI8Quo9tEwZsgp1y_SHeqRNlhTJT5JW3JKZgA26Tkj0/s1600/1600x900_11824_Voodoo_Doll_3d_character_doll_cartoon_picture_image_digital_art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zY4N0I_zjVVd-hhipJ5OV4G3Eo_6fbFt3UTbTr47F5UAwziwifHlgf9sH13rlTHX2sksnBAGp_qKEYp4Sl321YN_2ryQZX2hFI8Quo9tEwZsgp1y_SHeqRNlhTJT5JW3JKZgA26Tkj0/s1600/1600x900_11824_Voodoo_Doll_3d_character_doll_cartoon_picture_image_digital_art.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I hope you overlooked my messiness I call a house when you came by yesterday!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The only thing I noticed was the waste of two wonderful looking enchiladas.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I forgot to put them up!!! Ugh!!! I truly am sorry for leaving my mess everywhere in the house growing up! I never understood your frustration until now!</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRHd8qRpSIkGxzNEhWxxW3yRjYqJ5IRG1R6s1xKgLe1oOHhoDPxeuRC6O3ltftiRPLUSpuXIo6_TMGt6M1VoRozGCnkZSo4IA1qlxFhOVRfTpIRpAwZnRbwOftfusyCRouwM222jAk6n4/s1600/BlueVoodooHead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRHd8qRpSIkGxzNEhWxxW3yRjYqJ5IRG1R6s1xKgLe1oOHhoDPxeuRC6O3ltftiRPLUSpuXIo6_TMGt6M1VoRozGCnkZSo4IA1qlxFhOVRfTpIRpAwZnRbwOftfusyCRouwM222jAk6n4/s1600/BlueVoodooHead.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Well I guess that helps - a smidgen.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">And I told her I cursed them.</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
My darlins, it's time you knew - I cursed you all. Somewhere in the back of my tired brain I remember wishing and hoping that one day y'all would have kids just like yourselves. Messy. Sloppy. Sometimes just down right disgusting.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Told her I had little dolls they never knew about. </span><br />
<br />
Some call them voodoo, I call 'em revenge.<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Secret stashes to get me through the mad days.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i> heh-heh-heh</i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VErQ6QVlvUJYOvLL7IRjH5oKlFVga44Gxfs5xcHmx4t7jXxorwcajvg5Ti1PTwcMLih-hHFFyRjJXPIy0O2CQiphReUYbb8Nks217eItXIJHGWqcOsOi_1nF-yO_lr86ENjNssRkTx8/s1600/String-Dolls-www-mystringdolls-com-watchover-voodoo-dolls-and-string-dolls-25077376-800-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VErQ6QVlvUJYOvLL7IRjH5oKlFVga44Gxfs5xcHmx4t7jXxorwcajvg5Ti1PTwcMLih-hHFFyRjJXPIy0O2CQiphReUYbb8Nks217eItXIJHGWqcOsOi_1nF-yO_lr86ENjNssRkTx8/s1600/String-Dolls-www-mystringdolls-com-watchover-voodoo-dolls-and-string-dolls-25077376-800-800.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
And the time the smell wouldn't go away and I got down on hands and knees to search out the sour milk was the time<span style="font-size: x-large;"> I stuck a pin right in the knees of that doll.</span><br />
<br />
And when I threw away the plastic containers instead of washing them cause the hairy green stuff had found a way to also grow <i>on the outside of the container </i>-<span style="font-size: x-large;"> that was the time I stuck a pin right in the hiney of that doll.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZby97xj-ZQcA2lEw9z59vZn1ET91OP0E9YgpZihV0rySL6bzXcVjO-qGMjJ-5eXkDLGN9firDREQHkjk8fOhrswPcxtSqrnaWdk4kh68eK4EfrUx6ykkduvGPHSs9Cfx1FQS1SNXWly8/s1600/princess-zelda-from-legend-of-zelda-skyward-sword-voodoo-string-doll-keychain-link_235453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZby97xj-ZQcA2lEw9z59vZn1ET91OP0E9YgpZihV0rySL6bzXcVjO-qGMjJ-5eXkDLGN9firDREQHkjk8fOhrswPcxtSqrnaWdk4kh68eK4EfrUx6ykkduvGPHSs9Cfx1FQS1SNXWly8/s1600/princess-zelda-from-legend-of-zelda-skyward-sword-voodoo-string-doll-keychain-link_235453.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
<br />
And the time I stuck<span style="font-size: x-large;"> little pins all up and down the sides of the dolls.</span> One for every cup I threw away with mold floating in it and every dish I soaked for days just to get the dried mac and cheese off.<br />
<br />
And when I had to go out and buy all new forks and spoons cause ours all disappeared. Disappeared with the bowls and saucers and plates that got lost in the abyss of under beds and behind furniture and under clothes. The day I bought all new silverware - I<span style="font-size: x-large;"> stuck pins right in the eyes and ears of those little dolls.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndPTR9eqNgTpREGvfb6JncY2Oea21QegKXKvFP3feWPzMGCEv_tjgIh_DhC-uB4suNIcI3Jc8mUdwsb4Z8zEjYpZiFl6wehmS6_Mlng2u_53GsjKrqRgT3PUyBFHSuEkt4FyvUpbKvlo/s1600/superman-man-of-steel-voodoo-string-doll-keychain_2961926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndPTR9eqNgTpREGvfb6JncY2Oea21QegKXKvFP3feWPzMGCEv_tjgIh_DhC-uB4suNIcI3Jc8mUdwsb4Z8zEjYpZiFl6wehmS6_Mlng2u_53GsjKrqRgT3PUyBFHSuEkt4FyvUpbKvlo/s1600/superman-man-of-steel-voodoo-string-doll-keychain_2961926.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
So yeah, your apology makes me feel just a hair better. <span style="font-size: x-large;"> <b>But knowing what goes around comes around, priceless. </b> </span><br />
<br />
And those dolls, those dolls probably saved your lives..<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Muahahahaha!</b></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbboCXRDDUO7BUCf0ROyGYSnYwDJfVTB1MfzN6wajTgIfy8fh6VQx4yVeQT_nstrhHCkI9VJSTQOQBsEj0HllDM6L_rhXVweyrpMcH1eRJZnts3wSnOBIrCyFb9bPlb_260ekSeBZydmM/s1600/5790452209_43236287b0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbboCXRDDUO7BUCf0ROyGYSnYwDJfVTB1MfzN6wajTgIfy8fh6VQx4yVeQT_nstrhHCkI9VJSTQOQBsEj0HllDM6L_rhXVweyrpMcH1eRJZnts3wSnOBIrCyFb9bPlb_260ekSeBZydmM/s1600/5790452209_43236287b0.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-20570510849387058642015-04-08T23:57:00.000-05:002015-04-08T23:57:28.492-05:00when you dwell on the crossShe sends me a text and tells me she's not sure why this has been on her heart lately but she feels it's something we should do. She says she wants to make it special. She says she hopes everyone comes prepared to worship cause that's what she wants it to be.<br />
<br />
How do I tell her the older you get the harder it gets? <span style="font-size: x-large;">How do I tell her I'm sorry for all those years it was about bunnies and eggs more than Christ and His cross? </span><br />
<br />
How do I tell her the weight of the cross gets more crushing every year if you <i><b>just let it?</b></i> <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>And that we should just let it.</b> </span>Just let the cross crush us under its weight of pain and agony and sin and hell and love? Let it crush us until we cannot breathe and must surrender and die and drink of the blood and eat of His body just to live. And not just eternally - but <b><i>here</i></b>, too. <br />
<br />
And our world doesn't do this. Our world rejects the cross. Over and over and over ...<br />
<br />
This child of mine that I love. How do I tell her? This child whose happiness I would die for - that happiness is not what she was made for? That once the stone was cast and the garden was no longer ours, happiness was no longer our purpose?<br />
<br />
And today we may seek it in bunnies and eggs and clothes and tomorrow maybe in homes and cars and jobs but always when we die to the cross <i>we see</i>. We know. <span style="font-size: x-large;">That all that stuff is like climbing a ladder whose rungs never reach the top <i>of anything</i>. </span><br />
<br />
And we can climb and climb until the air is thin -and then breathing is hard baby. <i><b>Cause guess what?</b></i> <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">We don't belong up there.</span></b> Climbing higher and higher.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We belong low. At the ground. At the foot of the cross. At the feet of Jesus.</span><br />
<br />
She tries to gently ease us into the taste of bitter herbs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4s8bVyY2Xd2h_r_w4Dmrmrpxg6mDBapZhr01vxlzZbzDix356pl1te9Vm4Tfxg8MrNJ7ZUCyL-D_GNuIR_qH0Bd3kV0Bdg4ZgmJkQl9wJilCSr9p8jgy4_85wpLxcYcnVXxHgPMNtWcI/s1600/Parsley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4s8bVyY2Xd2h_r_w4Dmrmrpxg6mDBapZhr01vxlzZbzDix356pl1te9Vm4Tfxg8MrNJ7ZUCyL-D_GNuIR_qH0Bd3kV0Bdg4ZgmJkQl9wJilCSr9p8jgy4_85wpLxcYcnVXxHgPMNtWcI/s1600/Parsley.jpg" height="474" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
And she cried. Sitting there surrounded by this meal she prepared. <br />
<br />
She cries for the man who called saying he had nothing left to live for. No family. No one to love. No one to love him. And I look at her. And she's right back in the same place she's found herself in for years. Lost in Jesus. <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>And not sure what to do with it.</i></b></span><br />
<br />
She thinks I don't know that she's still searching for her purpose. That when she thinks, often, that she has it all figured out she's jolted into the reality of the cross.<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Reality of a dying world around her searching for life in air too thin to breathe.</span><br />
<br />
How do I tell her she's supposed to feel like this? She was born to feel like this. To miss this feeling is to be dead.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cry for this world. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Look to Christ. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dwell on the cross. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-67775098623343472252015-04-05T00:13:00.000-05:002015-04-05T00:17:22.148-05:00He is risen<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">He is not here.</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">He is Risen.</span></em></strong></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFL_7VdVsnl7hAkX4ceKH0yrzJfvcsv3Wzok1tyRoDe5JzWQGvDuzVA1Jec8NsEweZzHcRz5e4fI65YytxqGLdL08bW2wAUEubfpznk2PzhKaATOhY3VAkEAmGWMfqlCDLqvw4RbQ1Us/s1600/e9fa852b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFL_7VdVsnl7hAkX4ceKH0yrzJfvcsv3Wzok1tyRoDe5JzWQGvDuzVA1Jec8NsEweZzHcRz5e4fI65YytxqGLdL08bW2wAUEubfpznk2PzhKaATOhY3VAkEAmGWMfqlCDLqvw4RbQ1Us/s400/e9fa852b.jpg" height="480" nt="true" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">Victory.</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">Victoire.</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">勝利; 克服; ヴィクトリー号; 勝利の女神</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">Sieg.</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">胜利, 克服, 战胜</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">Zafer.</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">победа</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>Vittoria.</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>승리, 승전; 적군을 무찌름; 도전 또는 투쟁에서의 성공</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>Pobeda.</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>Vitoria.</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>Seger.</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-29856683530352322152015-04-03T15:12:00.000-05:002015-04-03T16:05:21.065-05:00when the fate of the world changed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTpkYDaiGNjqRyTws_ekX2RqQCw4_wfHsxO6ZQEwnPIRFAgwVkWWiDAn8OoSDe-Z5noCp_j1BOu0JQh07_476Y6onlxjglzFeJR3C9G-gh6aWWc2SbDZYvdicsNzLuT-3cqvOTTN3KJ4/s1600/IMG_9196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTpkYDaiGNjqRyTws_ekX2RqQCw4_wfHsxO6ZQEwnPIRFAgwVkWWiDAn8OoSDe-Z5noCp_j1BOu0JQh07_476Y6onlxjglzFeJR3C9G-gh6aWWc2SbDZYvdicsNzLuT-3cqvOTTN3KJ4/s1600/IMG_9196.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
I receive the text-<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<em>Are you alright?</em></div>
<br />
I text back <em>yes</em> and share that this week does this to me every year. <span style="font-size: x-large;"> This holy of weeks that shames me into admittance that so few of my days in a year are spent hurting over the pain my Savior endured. <strong>And is there a word deeper than <em>pain</em>?</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>Admittance that lack of faithfulness brought Him to a cross and even still that cross I so often forget, and what love could be stronger to bear that cross </b><em><span style="font-size: x-large;">knowing I would still lack faithfulness <b>to even make time to remember?</b></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></em>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1PUJzvhRuKW8ik3C36Hl2iFn-ePcP4PT59ZToHNekE5BKs0kxAHGp42RyEg43AeMBCt85A0kJwAOgyWGkeANrJeKTy-_DDLSdv-SA-WbmYy6Z6cEgeeNH9bI6iyVfYwqWb4eyQzYWg8/s1600/IMG_9198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1PUJzvhRuKW8ik3C36Hl2iFn-ePcP4PT59ZToHNekE5BKs0kxAHGp42RyEg43AeMBCt85A0kJwAOgyWGkeANrJeKTy-_DDLSdv-SA-WbmYy6Z6cEgeeNH9bI6iyVfYwqWb4eyQzYWg8/s1600/IMG_9198.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
I attend service of darkness and sing and pray and watch the blowing out of candles and feel tears slide. I wipe my face and for a moment wonder if I can stifle sobs I feel coming. And the pain from earlier in my day mixes with grief and reminder of grace and I feel threatened to lose control. Then with the final <em>Amen</em> I exit quickly and quietly and prayer is answered when I make it to my car before the <strong>crushing weight of all this wins and I break.</strong><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<strong>And there's one that I love that I know isn't even thinking of this day. She has forgotten her gift. Her grace. Mercy given freely <i>to her</i>. It's like a clock inside spinning backwards remembering and I know <em>only by grace.</em> And I wonder - <i>why is she ignoring her </i><em>grace?</em></strong></div>
<br />
Some small sound awoke me to a morning still dark. I avoided the clock and pulled covers up over my head. <strong>But there is no rescue of sleep because here it is - the day the entire fate of the world changed.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Good Friday. Holy.</strong><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>If I had been there would I have seen my name written in the stripes on his back?</em> RIE carved in letters so deep that only God's love can erase. Not time or shame or sorry <b>but only love.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></em>
<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Would I have seen my face in the angry sneering crowd? My mouth turning <strong>Hosana</strong> to <strong>crucify</strong>?</span></em></div>
<br />
And my answer screams <em>yes</em> and I push myself deeper under the covers. I remember last night I closed my eyes <b>to the day that He prayed for another way but accepted the way of the cross. </b> <em>How could I have rested when He prayed drops of blood? How is it so easy to put one foot in front of the other during this week? Any week?</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Then he returned to the disciples and found them asleep. He said to Peter, "Couldn't you watch with me even one hour?"</em> </strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Matthew 26:40</strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWUlDmDU9ksyrwxsYAGcVaGbygGMaQ4ymNgzMhp6XXG7AZsTAYn0Gcyv-TVJDwAXzAoVKXpsS0SnH_Cnazw-sJOYhoeW_msK1jTAL5vmELIoNNIpFhTyUMfX9X9MWTrA2Hjzp8XYkFjo/s1600/IMG_9199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWUlDmDU9ksyrwxsYAGcVaGbygGMaQ4ymNgzMhp6XXG7AZsTAYn0Gcyv-TVJDwAXzAoVKXpsS0SnH_Cnazw-sJOYhoeW_msK1jTAL5vmELIoNNIpFhTyUMfX9X9MWTrA2Hjzp8XYkFjo/s1600/IMG_9199.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<strong><br /></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I rested in sleep </span><strong style="font-size: xx-large;">because </strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">of the crack of whip moving faster than the speed of sound and nails pounding crushing small bones and heart breaking looking through space and time - </span><strong style="font-size: xx-large;"><em>my face. RIE.</em></strong></div>
<br />
<em>Just make it through today, just make it through today</em> I repeat over and over. <em>And then morning will break again and then morning again just get through today, </em>I pray. And what will I do from noon until three? I will help set table and clean house and prepare for tonight and remember to <span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>remember</em></strong>.</span><br />
<br />
Only by grace did I realize early enough in my life, before it was maybe too late? Never for love, <em>but maybe for redemption</em>? And on this holy day I wonder again <em>Why is she ignoring her grace? Help her, Lord, to find her gift of grace again.</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I long to go home and look into His face. I want to touch the scars and fall at His feet and sob unstifled <em>I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry</em>.</span></div>
<br />
I must await my heavenly home but not my seeing His face because He wakes with me and rises with me and rests with me and loves me <span style="font-size: x-large;">a cross much. </span> Today I will remember agony and thank often and <strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">wait for new morning to break.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></strong>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymlerQLvg9wFaCTVjnK446iePQEOeDCAUwXBBHrh_Pa0k5mdDPer_KsCj4idQ8VTZjGjmFVwHXjKUbdiJdqJWIlWGSB5bBps5UmFt8RjtB5E7HQAcUdOgo9cwXE443iRgJRIY58Z20Pw/s1600/IMG_9224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymlerQLvg9wFaCTVjnK446iePQEOeDCAUwXBBHrh_Pa0k5mdDPer_KsCj4idQ8VTZjGjmFVwHXjKUbdiJdqJWIlWGSB5bBps5UmFt8RjtB5E7HQAcUdOgo9cwXE443iRgJRIY58Z20Pw/s1600/IMG_9224.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></strong>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7132434308675229734.post-30581494738867382942015-03-31T11:15:00.001-05:002020-12-12T14:29:31.595-06:00when the only reason is just because<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Hey you - <span style="font-size: x-large;">you who are too good to me,</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
An old friend since first grade called me the night before I married you and he asked me if I was sure, really sure. <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Rie, are you sure you know what you're doing?</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A former boyfriend came into the bridal room moments before I walked the aisle to you and asked me if I was sure I wasn't making a mistake. <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Rie, are you sure this isn't a mistake?</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Neither knew you. Neither had met you. They only knew time had been short. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But if they had known then what my heart knew -</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">I had always been replaceable</span> - until you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>If they had known that when I was fifteen, someone - an adult - had looked at my then boyfriend and said these words to him - <em>I guess love really is blind</em> - about me.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And that I had carried those words around for years and let them take me places I should never have gone and that those words often marked my path and haunted my mind - <i>until you.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only I knew that on the night I had tried to tell you some things I didn't think I had the nerve to say, you had fallen asleep listening - because you<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><em><span style="font-size: x-large;">just didn't care, it just didn't matter.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </em>That you had said <em><span style="font-size: x-large;">now and to come are the only moments that matter.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Honey, my feet hurt in those eighty dollar shoes and you had seen me on our wedding day and our honeymoon had been cancelled and one of the candles wouldn't stay lit. <i> Remember?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We laughed through the prayer and got Allan tickled and he forgot the words to the ceremony. <i>Remember?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You went through the first car wash you could find and washed off the <i>Just Married </i>and I got mad at you and I lost the key to the cabin and you got mad at me. <i>Remember?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">I love you.</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Remember that, Okay?</em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /><br />
<div>
<em><strong><br /></strong></em></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com