tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45935893722171252582024-03-14T04:07:29.256-04:00Wren's WritingsMy random musings about life as a mommy of four, wife and full time middle school English teacherUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-85197073396170688202012-06-06T17:32:00.004-04:002012-06-06T17:32:52.813-04:00becoming a radical christianIf you haven't read any of the Radical books- you may still be under a rock! I read the first book, Radical, a year ago, and just finished Radical Together. These two books have impacted the way I view my world and my role in it. We are called to be disciples and there is nothing passive about this role. Both of these books re-affirmed my view that my faith needs to be bold- that I need to continue to look for ways to impact hte world for Jesus Christ. Need some inspiration? Then, read <em>Radical Together</em>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-56658282255746212182012-06-06T17:24:00.001-04:002012-06-06T17:24:53.031-04:00Grace is free!- a review of Lilies in moonlightI don't usually pick up Christian fiction, but this time, I did, and I am glad I did! Through the blogging for books adventure, I read <em>Lilies in Moonlight</em> by Allison Pittmann. I loved it!The two main characters, Lily and Cullen, both are looking for grace, for fogiveness. This theme is so universal, i was immediately drawn to the story. Set in the Roaring Twenties, just after WWI, Lily's and Cullen two very different worlds collide in a chance encounter and they will never be the same. The author does a fabulous job engaging me with the storyline, the setting, and the central theme of grace. Read it- you won't be sorry!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-34607815778699453572011-04-09T10:39:00.003-04:002011-04-09T10:59:09.586-04:00Those very cool GOD moments<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t8O58ODbMIc/TaBz0YtNfdI/AAAAAAAAAyA/OiNJ1IyzhFg/s1600/gordon.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593598081016626642" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t8O58ODbMIc/TaBz0YtNfdI/AAAAAAAAAyA/OiNJ1IyzhFg/s400/gordon.jpg" /></a> <br /><div>Last weekend, I presented a workshop at the LEA Convocation [which to all you non-Lutheran teachers is the National Lutheran teachers conference held every three years.] </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>My journey began over two years ago when I decided after much back and forth conversation with God that I would submit a proposal to submit. I had never taught in a school that attended the LEA Convocation and I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">SOOOOO</span> wanted to go......so what better way to go than to present? My father-in-law helped me with the proposal, and after an agonizing 5 months, I learned that I was in!!!!!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>God is so mysterious in his ways, and in my life I have learned that when I try to do things my way HE turns events around. and he did. I panicked until the very end. I used a buddy pass (flew stand by) to get to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Cincinnati</span>, scrambled and begged to find (literally) funds to support my journey, and watched God worked his miracles, all the while noticing that none of it was because I had done anything. ALL happened because he worked his wonders.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Sharon and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Carilise</span> helped fund my way to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Cincinnati</span>, and Sharon had one request: give Gordon <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Stueckert</span> a hug. I had never met Gordon; he was the founding principal of my school so I walked by his <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">portrait</span> every morning, but I had never met him. And, find him? In a crowd of 15,000? By Friday night, that seemed impossible, especially when I was leaving Saturday. So my prayer that night as I fell asleep was simply, "God, only you can cross my path with Gordon. I promised Sharon I would give him a hug."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Lo, and behold, and I am signing in for my presentation <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Saturday</span> morning, whose name <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">tag</span> is at my eye level? Gordon's!!! I started jumping and y<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">elping</span>!!! "God answered my prayer!!! He did it! You are Gordon!!"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He must have thought I was crazy. Once I introduced myself though, I did give him a hug, and even better, I took a picture and instantly tagged Sharon via <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Faceboook</span>. One of those times I LOVE social networking!!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I still get chills when think about my Gordon God moment, and the cool thing is, God was all over my trip. Four job offers, someone to design my website; the sky is the limit- I just need to let go and let God be GOD!!!!</div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-87541614222041085622010-06-29T11:08:00.005-04:002010-06-29T11:43:49.841-04:00Father's Day and a Mother's Pride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/TCoT6jVMaKI/AAAAAAAAAxk/GBjpDv5Bb90/s1600/IMG_0867.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/TCoT6jVMaKI/AAAAAAAAAxk/GBjpDv5Bb90/s400/IMG_0867.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488220992541845666" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/TCoN4YFBPPI/AAAAAAAAAxA/xsQR-rK0kQM/s1600/IMG_0925.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/TCoN4YFBPPI/AAAAAAAAAxA/xsQR-rK0kQM/s400/IMG_0925.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488214358091709682" /></a>My Chad, now 11, demonstrated the kindest heart recently in a way that pierced mine. As he nears closer to those teenage years, I hope he never loses his sensitivity, his tenderness.<div><br /></div><div>His friend, Jared, lost his dad two year's ago tomorrow. Chad was with Jared when RJ died. Chad and Jared were inseparable for the entire week after he died. Those two are just solid friends.</div><div>For Father's Day, my kids decided that they wanted to take Cory fishing in north Georgia. That Sunday, Chad came to me and pulled me aside,</div><div>"Mom, today's not a good day for Jared. Can we bring him too? He loves to fish."</div><div>After convincing him to ask his dad privately, not in front of Jared, he did just that. Two hours later, Jared joined our crew as we headed north for two days of fishing and camping. Only Cory rivaled Jared in the number of fish caught. He had the best weekend, and I think RJ was smiling.</div><div>I was smiling too- I was beaming with pride. My son understood friendship and he shared his dad.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Jared- is the one holding the fish! :))<br /><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-54245847265351796212010-01-27T20:43:00.002-05:002010-01-27T20:51:35.919-05:00Say What?This school year has been a challenge, to say <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">the</span> least for Blake...and his parents. after several months of pulling my hair out and worrying and stressing and then still trying to cope with the other kids. i broke down.<br />i <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">asked</span> my counselor about it.<br />"From what you are describing, it sounds like he has ADD"<br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ok</span>. I can live with that. So she sends me to a website, run by the ADD guru Dr. Amens to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">investigate</span> further. i took the quiz- for Blake. Yep. That was easy. But as I was taking the quiz, I started to sweat.<br />Some of the questions were uncomfortably personal. Many of th<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">e</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">questions</span> seem t<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">o be</span> describing me.<br />Yep- According to Dr. Amen's quiz, I DEFINITELY have ADD.<br />Ouch. I didn't see that one coming. I have blamed Cory for years for having ADD and being in denial.<br />Apparently, i was in deep denial. My <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">train wreck</span> house managing skills (or lack there of), my impulsive spending, my 90 mile per hour work day, with 52 projects open at a time. The anxiety....the list is actually endless! :)<br />I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. i can't wait to see what she says.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-23596500275950818562009-12-30T21:10:00.004-05:002009-12-30T21:21:56.014-05:00Watch where you walk<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SzwKujz9INI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/3UXwcwOLeAY/s1600-h/DSC07013.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421219846450651346" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SzwKujz9INI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/3UXwcwOLeAY/s400/DSC07013.JPG" /></a><br /><div>The day started out better than it ended yesterday. Last night, I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">retired</span> early- around 7 pm- fighting a stomach bug, riding the waves of nausea, vowing not to throw up, and aching. Oh, my head ached.<br />So, this morning was looking to be better. The nausea was gone, the headache was minimal, and we were headed to the beach. I packed my five favorite books, my new <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">iPod</span>, and was looking forward to what the day held.<br />Until, the stupid bird pooped on me. Seriously. I have always joked about it. But, there I was, standing under the tall <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Florida</span> pines, feet away from the water, and I felt something wet graze my hairline and plop onto my shirt. Looked down.<br />Yep. definitely bird poop.<br />After hollering for a moment or two about just my luck, I laughed. I mean, seriously, what can I do?<br />If this is any <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">precursor</span> to the year ahead of me, I better keep laughing! Or find myself some serious prayer warriors!<br />After the poop- the beach was great. I just avoided all trees! :)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-13544001566434915872009-12-24T22:16:00.003-05:002009-12-24T22:24:46.571-05:00Christmas Eve Reflections<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SzQumIaCi5I/AAAAAAAAAwA/e77u7EBJfbQ/s1600-h/DSC06861.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419007484260158354" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SzQumIaCi5I/AAAAAAAAAwA/e77u7EBJfbQ/s400/DSC06861.JPG" /></a> Merry <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Christmas</span> to all!<br />As I sat my four children down in front of our tiny little Charlie Brown tree this evening, my voice started to rise, trying to reach above the mayhem that comes from taking <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">pictures</span> of four squirmy children on Christmas Eve. I think I was getting a little too loud.<br /><br />"Mom- stop!," my 12 year old yelled, "this is supposed to be fun and you are yelling at us!"<br /><br />Oops. My voice was a little loud- but in my defense- I am naturally loud.<br />Anyway, she was right, trying to get the perfect <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">picture</span>, I was losing it. Moments before we left for church. I am sure my God is up there in the heavens just chuckling over my antics. Some people's children never change.<br />We have had a good year. And look at how my children have changed. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Caelin</span> seems to have grown overnight into a young teenager. Chad is still the most smiley boy I have ever met, Blake still pushed all my buttons and yet tugs at my heart strings with his quiet hugs, and Delaney. She still rules our roost. Even at three.<br />My prayer as I head into this new year is that you find your Savior and appreciate all the blessings that have been bestowed upon you. I would love the chance to chat with you again in heaven. My prayer requests? Pray for my journey as I head into the final countdown to Honduras. I am terrified and yet extremely excited at the same time. I know God will use me and I guess even that terrifies me. I hope I don't mess it up- good thing he will use me in spite of me!<br />Have a blessed remaining of your 2009.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-78639370282058336082009-07-01T09:31:00.002-04:002009-07-01T09:37:31.464-04:00My sweet Caelin is DRIVING...a golf cart! :)<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Sktlig8HOoI/AAAAAAAAAsc/05BgmsbTB0g/s1600-h/IMG_5362.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353484225691990658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Sktlig8HOoI/AAAAAAAAAsc/05BgmsbTB0g/s200/IMG_5362.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p>My baby is twelve- and in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Peachtree</span> City, at twelve you can drive the golf cart! So guess what we did? She cracks me up because she is such an old lady behind the wheel- so unlike her mother! Her daddy has taught her well about cautious driving!</p><p>The hardest part here will be me giving up control of the golf cart- I LOVE to drive- and I don't want to share that- but, I know that is extremely selfish- so I won't make any ridiculous rules...I'll just let the girl drive!</p><p>She is getting too grown up for me- the little girl is fading fast into quite th<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">e</span> young woman!...So this afternoon, we are headed for a manicure/pedicure! That's what big girls do on their birthdays, right?</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-19224267903494667922009-05-04T19:56:00.003-04:002009-05-04T20:10:28.980-04:00Heavy Heart, Much WorkIt has been a crazy day. Chad had a blow out in his classroom. Being that Jim (my principal is out of town, and I am the acting principal), guess who had to deal with it? That was a hat I'd rather not try on too often, especially with my own son.<br /><br />Then, my 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span></span> grade boys had a scuffle. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Another</span> trip to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">principal's</span> office, only I don't have an office, so we used Cory's. Round 2.<br /><br />After school, my heart sank further. I was wearied from the angst and emotions my day had spit through. Upon opening the local news <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">webpage</span></span>, I discovered that one of my student's own life has spiraled further downward. Her father was convicted last Friday of assaulting and raping her mother, nearly to death. He was sentenced to three life in prisons today. From the outside looking in, as I peer over the rim of this girl's life, I don't see any trauma. But as she struggles to find her new parameters, I see tiny tears and rips that threaten to break wide open and my heart hurts.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error">Another</span> students faces a reality of a brother gone over the edge and anger threatening to tear apart his family. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Another</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">student</span> struggles with bullying. Another with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sexting</span></span>.<br /><br />I want so much to scoop these kids up and make it all go away. How can they sit and listen to English and writing and Spelling amidst all their pain?<br /><br />So, I trudge forward, trying <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">desperately</span> to share that Gospel I so boldly proclaim. I try to be the light in their lives, keeping boundaries, setting firm <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">guidelines</span>, and yet still <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">loving</span> them. Summer is only a stone's throw away, and yet for many of my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">students</span> the relief is only temporal. I have so little time to show them the eternal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">relief</span> found in Christ's love.<br /><br />It's back to the grindstone. Another day's work beckons. Pray for me. Pray for my students.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-30098161419343675322009-05-03T08:26:00.002-04:002009-05-03T08:34:32.091-04:00a little mother daughter timeAfter bringing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Caelin</span> home from a party last <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">night</span>, she and I sat n the c<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ar</span>, just talking. Strangely, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">that</span> is not something that happens often. I am ashamed to admit it, but she said to me that last night was the FIRST time we had ever talked liked that.<br />We talked about middle school life. She sees her friends changing, trying ever so hard to be popular and liked and she gets sad. She said, "Mommy, why can't they just be themselves? I don' like who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">they</span> are becoming."<br />I remember those struggles. Only I was th<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">e</span> one changing. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Caelin</span> is a rock. She was sad because she doesn't know <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">all</span> the "popular music" (we listen to Christian), but she also said she is more sad because she doesn't really want to listen to it because it is "bad" for her "soul". She was sad because she feels she has no one she can be real with and she is lonely. I wanted to scoop her up right then and there and make it all go away.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Only</span> I can't and I hate that.<br />Popularity is such a double edged sword. I tied to tell her that even the popular girls feel lonely, but I don't think she heard me. I tried to tell her that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">popularity</span> doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but I don't think she heard me. All in all, these are hard life lessons she must grasp. I just have to wait and catch her when she cries.<br />Sometime parenthood sucks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-87373127991625087082009-04-14T21:32:00.003-04:002009-04-14T21:38:07.856-04:00HopeAnother post topic taken from the One Minute Writer.<br /><br />For what do I hope?<br /><br />I hope for a day in which my students- all of them- treat one another <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">kindly</span>. I hope for the day that they understand the meaning of bringing glory to God in their actions and their words.<br /><br />Another disheartening day- although by all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">accounts</span>, it started off well, and quite frankly, the school day ended well also. Until I looked in my inbox and noticed an email regarding bad behavior on my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">student's</span> part. Bad bullying, mean behavior. I can't stand it.<br /><br />It scare me <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">because</span> th<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ere</span> are many days I see glimpses of their adulthood and I want so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">desperately</span> to be able to shape their future. Yet, sin is always crouching at their door and the minute my guard is down, it creeps back in.<br /><br />I think I must have let down the full frontal prayer attack. I need <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">to step</span> it up. I need Jesus to calm the mean <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">spirits</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">that</span> are encircling around the 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">th</span> grade classroom.<br /><br />I hope for an overflow of kindness, gentleness, and love. Jesus, help us.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-67934258915476017732009-04-11T19:15:00.008-04:002009-04-11T19:35:04.401-04:00Project Time- Smith Style!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEo37j5fTI/AAAAAAAAAkU/Yp822vJNQPU/s1600-h/DSC05046.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323581175874813234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 147px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEo37j5fTI/AAAAAAAAAkU/Yp822vJNQPU/s200/DSC05046.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEopIJRqUI/AAAAAAAAAkM/zz_Re8Ib_CI/s1600-h/DSC05042.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323580921554774338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 106px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEopIJRqUI/AAAAAAAAAkM/zz_Re8Ib_CI/s200/DSC05042.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEoPRuFCcI/AAAAAAAAAkE/cixN2gRv61M/s1600-h/DSC05038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323580477448456642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 159px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEoPRuFCcI/AAAAAAAAAkE/cixN2gRv61M/s200/DSC05038.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEoBpHfFAI/AAAAAAAAAj8/Y-I86k1yT7g/s1600-h/DSC05037.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323580243210867714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEoBpHfFAI/AAAAAAAAAj8/Y-I86k1yT7g/s200/DSC05037.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEnB19GY8I/AAAAAAAAAj0/eH-j3oKQE2w/s1600-h/DSC05032.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323579147145339842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeEnB19GY8I/AAAAAAAAAj0/eH-j3oKQE2w/s200/DSC05032.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeElhFiRp6I/AAAAAAAAAjs/GTOReBTwQc0/s1600-h/DSC05031.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323577484880488354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SeElhFiRp6I/AAAAAAAAAjs/GTOReBTwQc0/s200/DSC05031.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>My in-laws are in town and that means we are working furiously on something around the house- this time around- it was the garden! Cory and his dad have been building a firewood rack (from "useless" stuff in our garage!), while <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">the</span> kids and I weeded, planted, and mulched the front yard. I hate gardening, but it was good family time. The kids love to help out on projects- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">especially</span> ones not associated with any type of cleaning! We are enjoying the beautiful Easter weather- if you manage to forget the scary hail, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tornadoes</span> swirling around, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">torrential</span> rains last night! Got to love living in Georgia!</div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-68413812130314973642009-04-10T10:53:00.002-04:002009-04-10T11:11:52.739-04:00Hardest JobI frequently visit the blog, <em>The One Minute Writer</em>. I will use the prompt given in my classroom as journal topics. That being said, I saw a prompt that interested me: "What is the hardest job?"<br /><br />Hardest job? At first response it is being a mother, a working mother, with four children who actively volunteers at her church. But then, upon reflection, that seems a little self-centered. Maybe it is the guilt I feel because I don't necessarily do the best on either.<br /><br />No, I think the hardest job is being Christian in today's world. I spend every morning in Bible study talking with my 6th graders the hardships we face as Christians in today's world, and yet how important it is to let Christ's light shine in us. It is hard for them- and as I keep sharing with them- it is no easy street for me either.<br /><br />It is so hard.<br /><br />It is human nature not to want to stand out. Standing up for Christ often means standing up and being noticed as separate and that is so stinking hard. It is hard not to do what I want to do, but to do what I ought to do (I sound like Paul there!). It is hard to bear the fruits of the Spirit- to say the right, kind thing, the be patient, to be faithful. And there are days I just don't want to do any of it. How many of us wake up some mornings and just want to do all the wrong things- because they just are more fun and feel better?<br /><br />It is a constant struggle for me. And to add to that job, I have been commissioned to share the Gospel. So I have to stand up for Christ AND share the Gospel, not only in my actions, but in my words. It's a total package.<br /><br />That is the hardest job for me. Showing Christ's light in me, bringing glory to God in all I say and do, and trying in everything I do to share this life-giving message of the Gospel. Hardest job ever- that really requires the strength of God. Good thing I am connected!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-63427769651221699772009-04-04T11:29:00.006-04:002009-04-04T22:35:50.030-04:00Angel Kisses and Hugs<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SdeAdJUfvfI/AAAAAAAAAjE/YU1ZAHRMagQ/s1600-h/cherie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320862722967977458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SdeAdJUfvfI/AAAAAAAAAjE/YU1ZAHRMagQ/s200/cherie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Yesterday was such a low day. I woke up weeping. A friend (she is in the red sweatshirt- she was Chad's most amazing Kindergarten teacher!!!) very dear to my heart suffered an acute <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">asthma</span> attack and is still in ICU in a coma. I arrived at school Friday, swollen-eyed and not very excited to be there, especially because <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">I was</span> facing 21 students ready for their Spring Break to begin. </span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">My eyes may have never dried out had I not paid close attention to the four angels sent my way to give me an "angel set of hugs and kisses". Two vase of flowers arrived on my desk with notes of sweet encouragement, a card from a group of girls reminding that <em>Jesus Loves Me</em>, a soda from a co-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">worker</span> with a back scratch, and a hug from a mom all snuck in throughout the day. By the end of the day, my heart felt a little less burdened, and as I went to my doctor's appointment, I was replaying these moments.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Then my doctor's visit. We spent <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">probably</span> 45 minutes (which is a long time for a doctor's visit- especially for just a prescription refill check! :)) sharing our faith stories and God- moments back and forth. I shared my fears about Cherie, the thoughts of losing her earthly presence, and she quickly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">reminded</span> me how powerful prayer is. She <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">said</span> she sees more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">of</span> God's handiwork and his miracles in her job than I could imagine.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Cherie</span> is in God's hands, and even in my moments of weak faith, God put these many angels at my side to remind how incredibly powerful and loving he is. As I lay in bed last night, reading the latest updates on Cherie, I was reminded of Cherie's faith in her Savior. She truly lets her light shine and never seems burdened by the struggles that she endures. I thank <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">God</span> for this faith <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">mentor</span> he has placed in my life, and that he took a whole day to remind me that I am <em><strong>his </strong></em>and he cares to hear even my fears for a dear friend.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">My God is an AWESOME God!</span></div><div> </div><div>UPDATE- She is off the ventilator, trying to speak. The miracles keep happening, hour by hour!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-36069002842072605152009-03-30T17:37:00.005-04:002009-03-30T17:53:09.843-04:00a memorable memoryAlthough it has only been twenty four hours since we returned from the land of th<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">e</span> wet, I am now <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nostalgically</span> reflecting upon our camping trip this past weekend.<br />It was very wet, mostly cold, and did I mention, very wet? <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Yet</span>, as I look upon those <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">moments now</span>- I remember sitting with the Newman's inside their food tent- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">enjoying</span> the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">cocoa</span>, hot coffee, and conversation about the funny things 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">th</span> grade girls do!<br />It was a fact that my children went through all of their packed clothing and completely soaked them by 1 pm on Saturday and I did pay $4 trying to dry them in the camp dryer. Yet, I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">fondly</span> remember the absolutely delighted look on my sons' faces as they trounced through the mud, puddles, and yes, the stream running alongside our campsite. It was priceless.<br />It was a fact that my tent became a lake in itself- a lake so large that not even a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">plethora</span> of both towels could <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">diminish</span> it. Yet- it sticks in my head the hushed, quiet whispers of 9 children all tucked in a cabin rented just for the evening, trying <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">desperately</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">keep</span> repressed all the giggles that were erupting to the surface.<br />I did not sleep well in that cabin- it was a fact that Delaney did <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">wake</span> up at 2 am screaming, "I WANT TO GO POTTY", only to be put on the potty and then scream, "NO POTTY!!!". Now, as I look back on that horrid experience, I remember the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">tweens</span>/teens retelling the story to each other, laughing in gusts between <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">sentences</span>.<br />And, it was a fact that in my bed, not one, but TWO children (who shall remain nameless) had accidents, so that by the end of the evening, all 4 of us (Delaney, Chad, Blake, and I) were squished in the amount of space normally reserved for ONE person. I was very annoyed and cramped for space. But, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">the</span> next morning, when Delaney was running <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">around</span> the cabin, naked from the waist down and those <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">tweens</span>/ teens were screaming, aghast, at the naked baby, I could only laugh myself. They have so much to learn. Naked babies are just plain cute!<br />So- by all accounts, it should have been a miserable weekend...but as I remember it, it was only a <em>memorable memory</em>!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-7933312663528441302009-03-22T22:33:00.006-04:002009-03-22T22:45:46.489-04:00UPDATES!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb3j0MNtNI/AAAAAAAAAio/tAfYSpFs-m8/s1600-h/DSC04441.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316208604834804946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb3j0MNtNI/AAAAAAAAAio/tAfYSpFs-m8/s200/DSC04441.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Caelin</span> won third place in the Poetry <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Slam</span>- not bad for a 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> grader! She is quite the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">writer</span>- a girl after my own heart!<br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb200XcgHI/AAAAAAAAAig/IRyvGGs-sOw/s1600-h/DSC04481.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316207797428060274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb200XcgHI/AAAAAAAAAig/IRyvGGs-sOw/s200/DSC04481.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">SAVE HIS HAIR!!!! If he doesn't get enough pledges by Friday- his hair is gone...shaved...it won't be pretty! :)</span><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb2IH0MALI/AAAAAAAAAiY/SS9TgYJxXDg/s1600-h/DSC04545.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316207029554774194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb2IH0MALI/AAAAAAAAAiY/SS9TgYJxXDg/s200/DSC04545.JPG" border="0" /></a> I LOVE THIS PHOTO! These two- maybe it is because they are only 22 months apart- really do click...then there are those moments they are fighting...we won't talk about those!<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb1s32R25I/AAAAAAAAAiQ/aJgpEhrPz28/s1600-h/DSC04528.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316206561412111250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb1s32R25I/AAAAAAAAAiQ/aJgpEhrPz28/s200/DSC04528.JPG" border="0" /></a> My Easter 2009 photo- I spent way too much time trying to color coordinate 4 kids. Sometimes I scare myself- I really don't have that much time on my hands!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb1Tcn9ROI/AAAAAAAAAiI/MjgegSUlepk/s1600-h/DSC04523.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316206124607554786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/Scb1Tcn9ROI/AAAAAAAAAiI/MjgegSUlepk/s200/DSC04523.JPG" border="0" /></a> Delaney enjoying herself at Chad's game- don't be deceived- in less than 20 seconds- she was on the ground screaming. We have hit the two's!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-24971351951884823962009-02-22T08:26:00.008-05:002009-02-22T08:28:18.224-05:00Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-3814465522827135312009-02-22T08:26:00.007-05:002009-02-22T08:27:53.242-05:00Yesterday- Velocity<br />Today- Can.hardly.move.<br />hurts. to. sit.stand.move.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-46313965117549468212009-02-21T14:52:00.007-05:002009-02-21T15:09:12.382-05:00Winter Break!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SaBbzkWABOI/AAAAAAAAAgU/KZbDjsXH3Nk/s1600-h/DSC04251.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305341302529852642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SaBbzkWABOI/AAAAAAAAAgU/KZbDjsXH3Nk/s320/DSC04251.JPG" border="0" /></a> The last week has been quite productive. For one thing- I don't recognize my house anymore- i emptied this house of JUNK!<br />This is all the junk I filled my hallway with and then donated to Goodwill....and I did this three times! Yikes....Then, this morning, I finally used the brithday present that Blake won for me at the Frostbite 5K- 8 weeks of unlimited training at Velocity....so I went this morning....and boy was I out of my element. One hour of grueling exercises, 5 other people not sweating nearly as much as I was, and one trainer watching me....But, as I said, walking, crawling out of the door- "I survived". Not only did I survive- but I am going back- every morning at 5:30 for more.....<br />So now, after this week I have a clean house and am getting slimmer by the day....<br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SaBdoAEzS9I/AAAAAAAAAhE/uNaTJyLmiFI/s1600-h/DSC04264.JPG"></a> </p><br /><br /><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305343307706216354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SaBdoSNTL6I/AAAAAAAAAhM/K4Hl2ak3U7A/s200/DSC04267.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="justify"> </p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SaBdLhtFPEI/AAAAAAAAAg0/RP44mTLQmkU/s1600-h/DSC04260.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305342813649845314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SaBdLhtFPEI/AAAAAAAAAg0/RP44mTLQmkU/s200/DSC04260.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div>On another note- Blake celebrated his 7th birthday this week- so the kids and I went to Jumping Jelly Beans for an afternoon of jumping.</div><div>It has been quite the week!</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-73888156853792880812009-01-21T20:38:00.002-05:002009-01-21T20:48:12.846-05:00Not many people know this, but I used to stutter. Strange, I know, especially with how much I love teaching, language, literature, and drama, but it is true. I stuttered. And not just little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">unnoticeable</span> twitters; I was a full-blown stuttering child.<br />I don't remember much about actually stuttering, but I do remember the shame and embarrassment that followed. I hated speaking. In fact, there would be moments I would beg God to let me melt into the floor. Reading aloud in school added to my terrors.<br />This small unknown fact about my childhood could have remained buried under the layers and years I have piled on top, except for Delaney.<br />Delaney is incredibly verbal- I swear at 9 months she was talking clearly and at 18 months, if not sooner, the child uttered complete sentences. Brilliant sentences. She is the fourth child- but I was seriously impressed with her skills.<br />Then last week, in a moment, her skills morphed. W's are her downfall. That is painful considering that almost every sentence begins with "Why" or "What's that". I always know what's coming, but invariable every sentence now begins with a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">looooonnnng</span> process of w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">whhhhhhhy</span>....you get the picture.<br />I cried. I cringed. I tried (briefly- for a day) making her slow down or correct her. My husband quickly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">squelched</span> that- that isn't a good thing for her. So now I wait through all those <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">w's</span> and silently send prayer after prayer up, begging my heavenly Father to spare her all that shame and embarrassment. I love that child so much- even envisioning her pain tears me up.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-42787153684449645442008-12-29T10:13:00.005-05:002008-12-29T14:16:35.429-05:00DisappearedYesterday I swallowed my heart. Literally. For fifteen minutes, my imagination carried me away to a land of pedophiles and creepy men who hurt 11 year old girls. I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sure</span> I would never see my daughter again.<br /><br />The Smith clan had decided that we were up for an adventure of seashell hunting on the Pass-a-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gril</span> beach. It was pleasantly breezy, not the usual sun burning rays. I quickly established myself on a chair and was ready to read, Mountain Dew in hand. Delaney worked with the sand a few feet away and the boys were busy at the shore. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Caelin</span> was with Allison, trolling the water for pretty shells to add to her collection. She is not one that I pay close attention to or worry about because she generally is my most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">responsible</span> little girl. So, with Delaney visible out of the corner of my eye, I began my afternoon of reading and chatting. We were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">surrounded</span> by family, some awake and conversing, some dozing on the blankets behind us.<br /><br />Allison came up and asked if she and Noelle could go down to the water. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Caelin</span> walked up and asked for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">a bucket</span>. I acknowledged both in my quiet brain, but not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">aloud</span>, and talked on, easily chatting in and out of a conversation. Then I looked up. I could Allison and Noelle, playing the sand by the water. Delaney was at my feet, and t he boys were to my left, playing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">bocce</span> ball with their uncle and father. An alarm went off in my head.<br />"Has anyone seen <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Caelin</span>?", I asked. I scanned the beach to the left and to the right and out into the water. Nothing. No sight of her and her soaked through t-shirt. The adrenaline started to creep up into my throat.<br />"Cory, Cory," I yelled <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">across</span> my shoulder, "have you seen <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Caelin</span>?" He paused his game and looked up. This time, he didn't ignore me; he must have heard the panicked tone underlying my voice. He dropped his ball and started towards the water. I hurried after him and waited to hear what we should do next.<br />He told me we should split. I took the path up the beach towards the pier. As I walked, mostly sprinted up the beach, I tried not to look too much at any one person. I tried to remain calm, but inside my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">head</span> was filling with all sorts of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">disastrous</span> endings. Every person I saw, every man I looked at was possible my daughter's abductor. It chilled me.<br />I walked a ll the way to the pier, and not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">finding</span> her, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">walked</span> around to the street level and walked down the sidewalk. I started looking in cars, searching for a struggling arm or leg in the air. I looked nervously into people's faces, sure I could weed out a guilty look. My imagination carried me away, into conversations and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">distraught</span> phone calls.<br />I walked back onto the beach, expecting to see the mayhem I felt. Not one person seemed ruffled, not one person seemed out of sorts. I could see no <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">evidence</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">the</span> trauma I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">experiencing</span>. I sought out my sister-in-law, beckoning her,<br />" Has Cory found <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Caelin?</span>"<br />In a moments "yes", the drama stopped as quickly as it had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">begun</span>. I turned to see <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Caelin</span> walking towards me, way int he distance, clutching her daddy's hand, and her sea shell bucket in the other hand.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-9941983328578511992008-12-22T17:55:00.003-05:002008-12-29T10:12:41.778-05:00A different kind of tummy tuckLast Wednesday, I had surgery. I have been having these issues- I won't go into details- but after many doctor visits (and co-pays) my issues were narrowed down to two things: my gall bladder and my polysplenia synrome (which, if you have never heard of it- and most haven't- makes me a feak of nature- but that's another story...).<br />So the illustious Dr. Winger- who looks like and not any older than Doogie- set my surgery date and we were off.<br />Ouch.<br />The good news is that it was not invasive. Even going into surgery, I was told he may need to cut me open to set my intetines straight. I guess he didn't, because all I have to show for my 2 hour surgery are four holes. 3 holes are in my upper belly area and 1 is right in my belly button. Which brings me to the tummy tuck. Somehow, in process of going in through the belly button, I hve received a funny kind of tummy tuck. My tummy is definitely tucked in there. It looks wierd. Very wierd. I wish he could have tucked in more....<br />We have been inundated with food by our church- mostly pasta- but to my surprise- tonight's meal is meat, potatoes, and vegetables....a nice break from the pasta...and then earlier, a couple from church dropped off a huge bin of food staples- canned goods, bread, all sorts of goodies.<br />A tummy tuck with benefits!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-15689938033723644322008-12-01T21:51:00.004-05:002008-12-01T22:03:48.619-05:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/STSlhYxQriI/AAAAAAAAAcM/0SxW8SdnohE/s1600-h/s1162747927_30194826_8171.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275023056561024546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/STSlhYxQriI/AAAAAAAAAcM/0SxW8SdnohE/s320/s1162747927_30194826_8171.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div>Christmas cards are a chore for me- not because I don't like writing the letters or making the cards (yes- I try to make my own...), but because I can never seem to find enough time to get them sent out before Christmas...in all the craziness of the last few weeks of school, it is hard to find the quiet moments to work on them...<br />Nevertheless, I trudge forward. I have competed my design this year- I am including the latest photo I forced my four <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">kiddos</span> to sit through (on the beach- I have always wanted to try that), </div><br /><div>a poem as the message inside, and a few <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">handwritten</span> words on each one. Goal: mailed by December 24.<br />Could be difficult though. My dreaded abdominal surgery has been scheduled for December 17- let' see how talented Dr. Winger is! He will removing my gall bladder, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">appendix</span> and then re-structuring my intestines- all <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">lapriscopically</span>- or at least that's the hope. I have no idea <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">wha</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">t the</span> recovery time will be like- but I am guessing it will encroach upon my Christmas card deadline.<br />So here's to those quiet moments I crave, and friends finding their quiet time to share their stories (Stacey!!), hot apple cider (nice <span style="color:#ffff00;">to</span> sip while <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">witting</span> cards!), and may the force (and God's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">steady</span> hand be with Dr. Winger...</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-46705404547951232462008-11-29T16:21:00.003-05:002008-11-29T16:33:45.368-05:00Black Friday- revisited.Black Friday is my free day of unadulterated shopping. It is the only time I spend Christmas shopping- it is highly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">caffeinated</span> shopping. This last Black Friday was no different.<br />Cory woke up at 3:30- ready to set his place in line at Sports Authority. I was able to catch a few more winks of sleep- I left the house at 4:30.<br />My first destination was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Walmart</span>. I was planning to avoid Toys R Us at all costs- last years debacle was not going to be repeated (a different story...). I knew there was trouble when I couldn't find a parking spot. NOT ONE. After circling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">the</span> lot for at least 15 minutes, I made up a spot in the wee back corner and trudged towards the store, which had just opened its doors.<br />No one was killed at my store- at least not that I am aware of, but it was mayhem. And the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">animosity</span> was thick. Everywhere I looked there was some crazy person <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">shoving</span> five boxes of the same electronic into their already piled-high shopping cart and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">then </span>ramming that shopping cart into the backs of the legs of the person in front of them, who was stuck. I was smart- I walked in and DID NOT grab a shopping cart. All I wanted was the $5 Barbie and the $10 Cabbage <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Patch</span> baby.<br />A lot of misery for two <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">stinkin</span> dolls. A lot of "potty mouth" (as Blake would say) talk for $15 dollars of toys. AND, I was stuck in the swirling mass of gridlocked shopping carts, seriously hygiene-deprived crazy folk.<br />It was not the way I wanted to start the morning.<br />Once I finally managed to crawl out (my checker was Ann- I think she was nearly 92 years old...another story), I spent the next 4 hours shopping with a little less drama at Target, Sears, Macy's, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">JoAnn's</span>, Radio Shack, and Staples. I did make a pit stop at Toys R Us around 9- it too was not a pretty sight. Glad I stayed away from there!<br />And my grand total of Christmas presents for the 4 kiddos, the grandmother, and the staff secret angel for Cory and I: $268. The 5 hour experience that not even my words can describe: PRICELESS.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593589372217125258.post-6970294474358826102008-11-26T21:02:00.008-05:002008-11-26T21:33:05.333-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SS4F4jXWZDI/AAAAAAAAAbk/VoCdqelecfI/s1600-h/DSC03710.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SS4F4jXWZDI/AAAAAAAAAbk/VoCdqelecfI/s200/DSC03710.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273158682821420082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SS4DDBqzyUI/AAAAAAAAAbc/W1pVb1wBeUg/s1600-h/DSC03702.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SS4DDBqzyUI/AAAAAAAAAbc/W1pVb1wBeUg/s200/DSC03702.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273155564219910466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SS4BlTGzEwI/AAAAAAAAAbU/sSMler13Y3c/s1600-h/DSC03695.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8DWImtU7FY/SS4BlTGzEwI/AAAAAAAAAbU/sSMler13Y3c/s200/DSC03695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273153953993003778" border="0" /></a><br />On Monday, Caelin and I were feeling rather ready to tackle the world of cookie baking- 2 days later, here we are, finishing the last batch of the sugar cookies. At least she is still smiling.<br />FYI, If I never see another piece of cookie dough or another pie recipe I will be a happy woman. Too much for me (4 pies and 120+ cookies later...)<br />And I still have to bake the candied yams recipe, the stuffing, and the monkey bread for the morning...AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!<br />Good thing my girls and I got in a few moments of quiet time this afternoon. Caelin is getting so big- these moments will be gone before I realize it. It was fun just to watch them play and snuggle- their personalities are so much alike. These are the moments that I miss because I work so stinkin much!<br />By the way, potty training is a BUST!!! She still screams "NOOOOOOOO" whenever I even mention the "p" word!! :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0