tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12968374469649728382024-03-05T01:59:54.535-05:00Pardon My Dusta carpenters wife, The Carpenter's child.
My life is permanently under construction.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05472478935210732116noreply@blogger.comBlogger915125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-27123635549765621652020-12-08T11:31:00.003-05:002020-12-08T11:38:55.982-05:00Series: Life's too short....<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> This seems to be a theme in my messages with friends and loved ones.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Whether we're talking about the pandemic...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Or even something else <i>entirely.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>Perhaps this thinking comes with maturing age?<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One can only think so.</span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>Either way...<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here's some sage <i>(or not so sage)</i> advice I've learned along the way.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Life's too short: Series 1</span></h2><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Life is too short...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><div style="text-align: right;">....to wear uncomfortable undergarments.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Go ahead...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">snicker, </div><div style="text-align: center;">scoff...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">laugh...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">but, dang it...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's true.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Most of the worst days I've had, I'm dealing with VPL* or waistband rolling, or pinching...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">...or underwire digging, or shoulder straps falling... </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">...or the wrong size- so their falling down, or constricting my breathing...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I mean...<b>it's a valid point.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It is important to have as #1?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, it is.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The perfect undergarments = a good start to a potentially good day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bad undergarments = even if the day was good, it's still annoying...</div><div style="text-align: right;">...and draws constant attention to ill-fitting bits-holding.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Recently, I had had enough. My closet was full of cheap bras I picked up off the clearance rack. They didn't fit right. I tried to be a good steward of the $4-6 I wasted...but it's just wasted money. They had to go. I found my favorite bra, researched the best price, and went out to find one of every color. Boom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Same with underwear. Now, that was a slightly more expensive and extensive endeavor. It involved more measuring, and some trial and error. I finally found them, though. My favorites. </div><div style="text-align: left;">(and now they have been retooled and nothing like the originals...so, I have a total of 6 good pairs that I love...but hey, it's a start)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A good day begins with good undergarments.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>And life's too short to not have a good day. </i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: xx-small;">*Visible Panty Lines</span></i></div></span></div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-16032177316339991432020-10-09T14:44:00.002-04:002020-10-09T14:44:26.598-04:00Cancer: the rest of the story<p>Quite some time ago, I was asked to give a talk about Provision at my Moms on a Mission Group</p><p style="text-align: right;"> <i>(think what follows MOPS)</i></p><p>I thought I'd post it here.</p><p>This also explains the rest of the <a href="https://carpentersdust.blogspot.com/2017/11/not-great-news.html" target="_blank">cancer story</a>. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><i>(sorry for the three year cliff hanger)</i></p><p>___________________________________________________________________________________</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">When I received the text asking me to speak this morning
about “God’s provision in my life” today, I was sitting at a track meet in Reed
City surrounded by a BUNCH of 3-8 grade kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was cold, getting wetter by the minute, and windy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><i>But I loved every minute of this day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">And while the weather wasn’t my favorite – I
constantly remember when we were battling infertility, and the me-<i>back-then</i>
would have given my right arm to be sitting there that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m instantly filled with gratitude for the
blessing of where I’m at.<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I start thinking about the word </div><p></p><h2 style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;">“provision.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></h2><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">My mind goes straight to blessings:</span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">-I have a family. An
<i>amazing</i> family – a loving humble, hard-working husband who can and does so many
things for me…including building me a house from scratch. <i>(</i><i>And God’s given me ALMOST enough patience to
get through it.)</i> He’s also given me 3 children – alive, and loving life. 2 more in heaven with the hope that we will
all be reunited someday. Then the <b>things
</b>start, right? House, running cars, work in a building where my 2 littles go to
school, I could go on. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;">(and on and on and on)</div><o:p> <br /></o:p>There are times in life where the blessings are
abundant. But it wasn’t during a period I
would have wished on myself. In November
2017, it was <i>finally</i> time for an endometrial ablation. I was all <i>“Yay! No more monthly visits!” </i>But
one week later, I received a call, <p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><i>“Sandy…we found cancer. </i></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><i>You have cancer. </i></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><i>You need more surgery. </i></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><i>This is your oncologist’s name. </i></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><i>They will call you.” </i></span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">The fear that descended at that moment was
nothing short of crippling. I don’t want
more surgery. What if I suffer? What if I die? What will become of my
kids? <br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>But during this time of fear that cut me to the quick,
there was an <b>abundance</b> of God’s provision like I’ve never seen in my life. To name a few: </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Dave was home after I received
the call. (he's ALWAYS gone working)</span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">My pastor was <b>immediately</b>
available for prayer. </span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Friends just
happened to be just around the corner when I called them, and just stopped by. </span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">Over the course of the next week, God
surrounded me and my family with the most amazing community of people who
served us as the Hands and Feet of Jesus.
Once I finally got the appointment at the oncologist, so many pieces
fell into place, and my surgery was able to jump into a cancellation a mere 3 days
later. <br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>The day of my surgery, God worked overtime showing me that
He was near- a pastor who showed up as I was just climbing into bed. <i>(and I will say we had so much fun those 2
hours before the surgery!)</i> The same discharge nurse from my ablation whom I LOVED became my intake nurse for surgery. The same OR nurse who knew I needed to sing a
hymn to calm myself down walked me into the surgical suite. An oncologist
I had 100% confidence in. Suzanne sent
her sister in to greet me at one point. And an endless supply of prayer from
all over. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"></p><h1 style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">What a gift.</span></h1><o:p> <br /></o:p>While I was busy trying to eradicate cancer from my body, my kiddos had experiences of their own. This is where I tell you a bit about MiddleC's story:<p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">My sweet middle son. He's a lot like me: Hard shell to crack, but trusting, kind, loyal and very gooey on the inside. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">We prayed together as a family before they left for school. He held my hand so tight.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">So very tight.</span> </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;">He hugged me with tears brimming his eyes.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;">He struggled to leave me that morning.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">He struggled to stay focused at school that whole day. Watching the clock. Knowing I would be in surgery starting at noon. He couldn't read. Couldn't focus. Couldn't eat. He tried to put on a good show for everyone around him, but he just wanted to be near me. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">He had a basketball game after school. My surgery ended around 4:30. The news was <i>cautiously optimistic.</i> While it wasn't a cut-and-dry surgery, the oncologist reported that she didn't see any cancer cells outside the uterus or in surrounding lymphnodes. <i>(Thank you, God)</i>. Dave had a small list of numbers to text letting them know how I was doing and the outcome of the surgery. One of them was my dear friend, Heather. She is a member of my Tribe. A person I trust to love and care for my children just as I would for hers. She got Dave's text, and at half time went into the team room to give Colin the report.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: medium;">"I got a text from your dad."</span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">Colin stands and holds his breath. <br />He's lion-hearted: <br />He's going to be brave in this moment. <br />He stands tall and strong.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Your mom is out of surgery. </span></span></div><span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;">She's doing well. </div><div style="text-align: right;"> It looks like there's no evidence</div><div style="text-align: right;"> of cancer on the outside of the uterus. </div><div style="text-align: right;">This is good news!"</div></span></span><p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Exhale.</span></i></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">My boy crumbled.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">He crumbled to the floor. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">He wept.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><i>This is where I tell you that we struggled coming to this school. <br />A few years prior, </i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>Our old school closed in a horrible way. </i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>It took a while for us to feel like this new school was home. </i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>But...all that heartbreak...all that angst leaving the old behind: </i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>WORTH IT </i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>for this moment right here.</i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>Read on. </i></div><p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">This team of young 5th and 6th grade boys?</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;">They crumbled with him. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;">They dog piled on him weaping tears of joy <span style="font-size: medium;">with him</span>.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">And then - completely <i>umprompted</i>- they ALL broke into song. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">The Doxology:</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: medium;">"Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below</span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: medium;">Praise Him above ye Heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen!"</span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">Then, they jumped up, wiped their tears, ran back into the gym and had an amazing second half.</p><h1 style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">What a gift.</span></h1><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><o:p> <br /></o:p>Afterward, we received another abundance of God’s provision
by more prayer for healing, endless hugs, friends who came to babysit me (and
Lucy), rides for our busy family for the next two weeks and so much love
through food that our refrigerator was <span style="font-size: medium;">busting at the seams</span>. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;">And then, at my follow-up, </div><div style="text-align: right;">I was given a
provision of </div><div style="text-align: right;">great relief with a Stage 1A ,</div><div style="text-align: right;"><b> no further treatment needed.</b> </div><p></p><h1 style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">What a gift.</span></h1><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><o:p> <br /></o:p>And that’s just this one little fraction of my life thus
far. And that’s a big life event. <span style="font-size: large;"> In the midst of suffering, God was so clearly
abundant.</span> He’s also in the midst of <b>all
</b>my days. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;">Mundane, acute, all of
them. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">He provides a loving environment
for my kids to flourish every day. An
amazing group of friends that I hold dear.
Family that makes me REALLY appreciate my friends. <i>(I kid….)</i>.
All of which I am so grateful for.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">But…then I think.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">Even if my cancer outcome had been different. <br />Even if I had never been able to bear
children. <br />Even if I was living in a box
under a bridge. <br />Heck, even without the
box under a bridge….</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">God is still God and God is still good.</span> </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"> I need to keep reminding myself of this every
time I don’t want to go to the oncologist for some unknown complication….when I
don’t want to drive to yet another practice, when I really don’t want to make
dinner again….when I see all my friends travelling over spring break, and I’m
coveting their adventures….<span style="font-size: medium;">God is still providing for me.</span> God is still good. He still provides.</p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><o:p> <br /></o:p>And really the ONLY provision I need is Christ
crucified. <span style="font-size: large;">That’s it. </span> Nothing else matters. If I didn’t wake up from surgery, I would
open my eyes to Jesus’ face. Win. If I lived through surgery <i>(which, I
did….spoiler alert)</i>, I wake to see loved ones God provided me. Win.
In the midst of suffering, I had a win/win situation. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">What a gift. </span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">What mercy. </span></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What grace.</span></div><o:p> <br /></o:p>My church is what we call a “confessional Lutheran
church.” Mostly this means that every
Sunday, together as a congregation, we recite a creed. We have 3 to choose from, but mostly we
recite the Apostle’s creed. It’s a
statement of faith. <span style="font-size: large;">Unwaivering.</span> The words are succinct and to the point. And sometimes the repetition of it every week
drones on, but it’s like the pledge of allegiance. <span style="font-size: large;">It unites.</span>
So many churches all over the world are saying the same words. <span style="font-size: large;">The same beliefs.</span> <p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;">Martin Luther has authored a Small Catechism
where he breaks down so many things into manageable bites and explains
them. The 10 commandments are in there,
as is the Lord’s Prayer, Apostle’s Creed is in there, as well. He breaks it apart and this is the first
article…from the first sentence and its meaning:<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><o:p> <br /></o:p>The First Article<br /><i>Creation<br /></i>I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth.<br /> <br /><i>What does this mean?<br /></i>I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has
given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my
senses, and still takes care of them.<br /> <br />He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and
home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily
provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.<br /> <br />He defends me against all danger and guards and protects me from
all evil. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>All this He does only out of fatherly, divine goodness and mercy,
without <u>any merit or worthiness in me</u>. For all this it is my duty to thank and
praise, serve and obey Him.</b></span><br />
This is most certainly true.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><o:p> <br /></o:p></p><div style="text-align: right;">And this provision is truly all I need. </div><p></p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">Him.</span> </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;">For me. </p><p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">His grace and mercy. </span></p><h1 style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">What a gift.</span></h1><p class="MsoCaption"><o:p></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><p></p>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-35434108725269307922020-09-12T11:55:00.001-04:002020-09-12T11:55:10.099-04:00This spaceHow have I neglected this space for so long?<div><br></div><div>This used to be a great space.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>My space.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>My corner of the world to be snarky, sassy, honest, me.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Part of me looks back and wonders</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><i>Where have I gone?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Did I evolve? Change with the times?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Or have I forgotten myself?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Put joy on the back burner?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>The fact of the matter is that </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I miss this space.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Maybe this will become a gift to myself.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-21785650264896350032019-02-27T06:50:00.001-05:002019-02-27T06:50:39.874-05:00Respect <p dir="ltr">Hopper used to plow. When we first for married, he started doing it for extra money. And then, it just turned into a way to earn emjust enough to meet our medical deductibles. Then it became a bit too much, then a lot too much, then he just aged out.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Plowing is young man's work.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Hopper was called by his guy and asked to substitute plow for a night. He reluctantly agreed.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Because he knows it's hard on his body. It's hard on his brain.  It's hard on his regular work schedule. It's just hard.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But, he agreed.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Because, as a business owner,  he knows what it means to have unreliable labor. He knows what it means to want to maintain a good business reputation. So, he agreed. </p>
<p dir="ltr">To help a fellow business owner.</p>
<p dir="ltr">To help a friend.</p>
<p dir="ltr">To make some extra money. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So, as I'm setting the coffee pot to turn on at 2am, I prayed. For protection for this amazing man. For this man who doesn't think it's a big deal- what he's doing is daily work. It's just what he does. </p>
<p dir="ltr">But it's something I believe is worthy of admiration. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And respect.</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-7105492332444323532018-08-16T07:16:00.001-04:002018-08-16T07:16:16.892-04:00Marriage and morning people<p dir="ltr">I'm married to a morning person </p>
<p dir="ltr">I <i>am not not NOT a morning person.</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">To top it off, my morning person gets up at 4:45 am (<i>yes, on purpose!) </i>to get some paperwork done before he leaves for the day.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Every morning at 7am (ish), he comes to wake me up and kiss me goodbye. 95% of the time, I am still asleep when he comes in. </p>
<p dir="ltr">He's geared up for the day.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I am still semi-comatose.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Clearly, a great time to have a conversation! This morning went like this:</p>
<p dir="ltr">D: what's on your agenda today?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me: <i>mmmmmmpppppffffffff</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">D: are you working today?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me: <i>uuuuuuuummmmm</i><i> think so</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">D: did you see the new football practice times? 9:30 to eleven and 3 to 5:30. You're helping JT at the 11:30 one, right? Are you doing all the others too?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me: <i>sooooooo</i> many nuuuuuuumbers.</p>
<p dir="ltr">D: what are you going to do with the kids?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me:<i> we have kids?</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">D: what's the tee time on the calendar? You going golfing?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me: what day is it again? </p>
<p dir="ltr">......<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Me (again): yes....the ortho<i>dontist</i><i> guy has patient appreciation....thanks for all </i><i>your</i><i> money, here have a golf ball.</i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>D: </i><i>I</i><i> love you, have a good day.</i><br>
<i>Me: love </i><i>you</i><i> too. (Rolls over and dozes)</i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>(</i>He, on the other hand, is packed up and off to save the world- one well built house at a time).</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-19746388459584004882018-07-16T22:43:00.001-04:002018-07-16T22:44:06.118-04:00Counting mine {482-493}<p dir="ltr">482. Summer</p>
<p dir="ltr">483. Returned phone calls</p>
<p dir="ltr">484. Invitations to dinner</p>
<p dir="ltr">485. Gin</p>
<p dir="ltr">486. Fantastic nephews</p>
<p dir="ltr">487. Family pictures where the kids play along</p>
<p dir="ltr">488. Being able to host dinner</p>
<p dir="ltr">489. Employment </p>
<p dir="ltr">490. Facebook marketplace. (I'll never pay full price for anything ever again!)</p>
<p dir="ltr">491. Friends with pools</p>
<p dir="ltr">492. Sunscreen </p>
<p dir="ltr">493. Fireworks </p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-76354877060862118162017-11-30T20:00:00.001-05:002017-12-28T08:35:57.805-05:00Not great news ...<p dir="ltr">So, my friends....please forgive my faux pas in delivering hard news via social media- BUT I am coveting your prayer. I had an endometrial ablation last week, and pathology reports are now back showing cancer cells in my uterus. <br>
So, what do we know? Well, not much. We are in this horrible waiting period between dropping the big C-bomb and a call from the oncologist. I do know that I can expect a full radical hysterectomy and lymph node resections. From there, pathology will tell us the official grade and the best course of treatment.<br>
What do we need? (Besides a return call!!) Prayer. Lots of prayer, and I'm always available for free hugs. ;) Lots of grace for some high-emotion kids, and some safe support for my husband. I'm sure as this ball starts rolling, we will have PLENTY of needs, and we will not hesitate to ask. (This may be hard for me-please keep reminding me to ask). But those that already know- thank you for showing the amazing community in the body of Christ. You are His hands and feet, and He is shining Light through you. Thank you!</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is scary, this is hard, but God is near.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNRw0d6RRXjP6nlxwDjaX6B3RpePsMWwuVuzwdxZrd7KyRKPe_-UyK9NI762WbbKelbU1Q3vXVUd1Ytvawi2Dav_GBbtZpfMr_yyEzBs4rke92g0lGCdnb5If0mMt_X4MvvzCfgDUx-w/s1600/IMG_20171129_182010_788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNRw0d6RRXjP6nlxwDjaX6B3RpePsMWwuVuzwdxZrd7KyRKPe_-UyK9NI762WbbKelbU1Q3vXVUd1Ytvawi2Dav_GBbtZpfMr_yyEzBs4rke92g0lGCdnb5If0mMt_X4MvvzCfgDUx-w/s640/IMG_20171129_182010_788.jpg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-47846468926483861532017-07-29T06:43:00.001-04:002017-07-29T06:43:26.972-04:00Screen detox<p dir="ltr">So...here's where I lay myself vulnerable.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Here's where I show you a triumph. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I've been feeling quite convicted lately about screens. With our whole family in general, but especially with my kids.</p>
<p dir="ltr">What started as "background companion noise" when Adubya was a baby has turned into a full-blown lifestyle. </p>
<p dir="ltr">TV on all the time,  </p>
<p dir="ltr">tablets the go-to anesthesia.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Then MiddleC and LittleL had their tonsils out a month ago, and we hit deafcon 5 slothdom. TV was on all.the.time, charging cables were in every outlet.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You guys, it was bad.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Two weeks ago, we were taking Adubya to camp,  and I took the opportunity to plant a seed with the kids: I explained my concern about their behavior now, what it means for their future, and the sadness it brought me.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">They all actually thought about it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">We decreased screens quite a bit while Adubya was gone.  Then, the day we picked him up, we left for camping. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Sunday to Sunday my boy had gone without any screen. So, I decided....it was time.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Monday morning, the screens went silent. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We went Monday through Friday without any screen of any sort. </p>
<p dir="ltr">(Exception: my phone. I used it to contact people to make play dates and coordinate some of my commitments).</p>
<p dir="ltr">I'm going to do my findings in list form:</p>
<p dir="ltr">- With the exception of Monday morning, every morning thereafter was blissfully silent. I came out to both boys reading on the couches. Now, if LittleL was up before me, I HAD to get up since she requires adult supervision, but even toward the end of the week, Adubya was pouring her cereal, and MiddleC was reading her books. (Bless me!)</p>
<p dir="ltr">- Both boys made themselves goals to finish books. MiddleC finished 3, Adubya finished a long one and started on another. They both enjoyed reading these books, and were excited to tell me about what they were reading. (Not super exciting stufd, but they wanted to tell me, so I'll listen anyday!!)</p>
<p dir="ltr">-Errands were fun. Yep, you heard me....FUN. Why? Because no one was trying to rush me through anything to get back home to screens. At one point, Adubya said "yeah, let's try there too...we've got nothing but time..." </p>
<p dir="ltr">- The boys worked together. Monday, they came up with the idea of a cardboard fort. They put their money together to buy a roll of gorilla tape, asked me to drive them around looking for cardboard, and built a fort. This was not without artistic differences, mind you, but after a little FOB time, and a quick talk from mom, they quickly joined forces again and built a fortress.</p>
<p dir="ltr">- We had a total of 4 meltdowns this week. Four. (Bonus! None of them mine! Ha!). You guys...coming off screens ends up in daily meltdowns from each kid. Multiple daily meltdowns for one specific kiddo. Four. Blissful four. What a difference!!! (FOUR!!!)</p>
<p dir="ltr">- I stepped up my parenting game. I almost felt like a teacher: planning out our days ahead of time. I was careful to have a little bit of fun time with friends, physical activity time, quiet time, and then unstructured play. I was present. I was engaged. Guess what? I liked it. And I have some pretty amazing kids with some great things to say.</p>
<p dir="ltr">- I became an authority in their lives again. Not a problem with LittleL, but with the boys, they had started untying apron strings on me. They were listening to their bloggers more than me- this week, they reengaged with me too. While they do listen to me, I think the dialogue changed this week. It was more open, honest, fun, and encouraging. </p>
<p dir="ltr">- Chores got done. Timely and completely. It was great! We did less chores at the beginning of the week, and kept life fun to encourage us to get to Friday. We did more and more toward the end of the week, but they were motivated because there was the promise of ice cream and a movie on Friday night.</p>
<p dir="ltr">- We had fun. Structured and unstructured fun. Talking, swimming, laughing, board games, fun.<br><br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">So, going forward, what does this mean?<br><br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Well, we're going to try to let them have some screens, but nothing close to where it was before. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I remember once, a mentor of mine, Cheryl, called screens a theif. <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">She was right: they steal. <br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">They steal attention, brain cells, time, parental control, imagination. <br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">I let that theif keep stealing things until I had little left to give. </p>
<p dir="ltr">No more.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">So, we're going to try to do light screens for now, and if the meltdowns come back, if the time gets stolen, if the obsession returns, then they all go off. <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">For good. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And I'd be totally OK with that! <br>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuGn-f96zSU0ZgOA_coXV89mUlNG0ZIo97fymOMhQhm8Im4PTLDW7bf3s6Fua0D6MCs6g9z9LPkOumZ-dML4JoBg_kcYNLxhcptEIWQoirLxAy6DnCYIbzSAo0PM0g3mdZ-ceKON80K0/s1600/20170728_103201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuGn-f96zSU0ZgOA_coXV89mUlNG0ZIo97fymOMhQhm8Im4PTLDW7bf3s6Fua0D6MCs6g9z9LPkOumZ-dML4JoBg_kcYNLxhcptEIWQoirLxAy6DnCYIbzSAo0PM0g3mdZ-ceKON80K0/s640/20170728_103201.jpg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-23669374537293946502017-06-24T19:57:00.001-04:002017-06-24T19:57:00.964-04:00Smart guy<p dir="ltr">Dave: Did you get your haircut today?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me: no (thinking what did I do differently this morning to make my hair look just-cut worthy)</p>
<p dir="ltr">Me: why? Does it look different?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Dave: Nah. Just being proactive.</p>
<p dir="ltr">:)</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-20611318993628056222017-05-24T11:45:00.001-04:002017-05-30T06:47:47.814-04:00Lion's heart<p dir="ltr">So. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We're smack dab in the middle of baseball season. Manic May, y'all. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I have a color-coded calendar. And a color-coded menu. Me, the furthest from type A, is color coding things....yeah.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But in the midst of this busy season- where hurried is the life we lead, sometimes</p>
<p dir="ltr"> ....sometimes....</p>
<p dir="ltr">God has me sitting on the sidelines and he shows me a calm ray of sunshine. Things that our overbooked calendar can show.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Life lessons.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So, last Saturday...I'm at the end of 6 hours at the ball fields. Adubya had a game at 9am, MiddleC had a game at 11:45.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Abudya's team won. It was a fun game to watch.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Onto MiddleC's game. This is where I tell you that they are undefeated this season. They have learned and played together so well as a team, I have been so proud of them.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This particular game was out of the ordinary. Our starting and back-up pictures were struggling on the mound. Walk after walk. Even our bats weren't as hot as they had been in every other game. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Our team was having an off-day.</p><p dir="ltr"><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">We were at the end of MiddleC's game.</p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"> In his age bracket, they usually only play through the sixth inning. At the bottom of the sixth inning our boys were tied 3 to 3. The coaches and umpires talked and said that we had extra time before the next game started, so we would play through the seventh inning.<br></p><p dir="ltr"><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Our team was up to bat first. In this inning we score 2 runs. The score is now 5 to 3.</p><p dir="ltr"><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">After the third out, I see MiddleC running up to the pitcher's mound. He had such determination in his eyes. All he had to do was hold off any runs, and they would win the game! </p>
<p dir="ltr">He knows he's capable of this. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I know he's capable of this.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But, ohhhh, did my mama's heart fret on the sidelines.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Batter one: walk</p>
<p dir="ltr">Batter two: walk</p>
<p dir="ltr">Batter three: hit, caught, out</p>
<p dir="ltr">Batter four: walk</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I could see him struggling. I could see him not give up. He kept trying. Harder and harder.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk. Score.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk. Score.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Tied.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk. Score.</p>
<p dir="ltr">End of game. </p>
<p dir="ltr">They won.</p>
<p dir="ltr">He exhaled. His shoulders left their determined strength on the mound, now slumped. He was trying to hold it together.</p>
<p dir="ltr">And then the coach walks up to him and gives him encouragement. His teammates join in trying to bolster his heart.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Cue: tears.</p>
<p dir="ltr">My heart hurt for him. Physically hurt. I'm watching on the sidelines- it's not yet my turn to comfort. Mom's don't belong on the field, but</p>
<p dir="ltr">Oooohhhh, did I want to scoop him up.</p>
<p dir="ltr">He cried again when he came to me. And here are the words God gave me in this moment:</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>MiddleC, it takes a special kind of kid to even walk up to the pitcher's mound under that kind of preasure. It takes a special kid to STAY on the mound in the midst of a struggle. Someone who will walk into a pressure cooker, and someone who sticks with it: that takes courage. Lots and lots of courage. And while we would have loved to be able to brag about a huge victory today, that's not the story that was written. It didn't go the way we wanted...but if we had won, I wouldn't have had a beautiful glimpse at something.</i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>What,</i> he asks.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Your lion's heart. Your courage. Your determination. Your amazing ability to admit fault, even with an entire team riding on your shoulders. You are fierce, you are strong, and you have an amazing courage. I have never been more proud.</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">So, I learned something on Saturday. MiddleC has the heart of a lion. He has courage under the hardest of 9 year old circumstances. Thank you, God, for giving me this glimpse in the midst of his heartbreak.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgompU71SE4tQVqS5qCUkrqLsymDroGU91E5lKpQh9XmCjUj1HhyR7ZxWUaUmQzBazlQQ6g9R3lP2soW_JwSuOLZCZpBldVw61EORNpAJhwk1CrMxAl0-kGUOUM85XlzZoW7gSiALfeCvg/s1600/20170417_180052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgompU71SE4tQVqS5qCUkrqLsymDroGU91E5lKpQh9XmCjUj1HhyR7ZxWUaUmQzBazlQQ6g9R3lP2soW_JwSuOLZCZpBldVw61EORNpAJhwk1CrMxAl0-kGUOUM85XlzZoW7gSiALfeCvg/s640/20170417_180052.jpg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-1703785153686229062017-04-22T14:26:00.001-04:002017-04-30T19:53:18.677-04:00Counting mine {474- 481}<p dir="ltr">474. Payday for the kid: having him walk into the bank to cash his check, and watching him joyfully fill his tithe envelope first.<br>
<br>
475. Watching the eyes opening of fellow friends when you tell them about how amazing Jesus is.</p>
<p dir="ltr">476. Holding a sweet baby less than 24 hours old</p>
<p dir="ltr">477. The daddy who see when his little girl needs to get out of a situation with unkind girls. He walks her to the concession stand for a ring pop, and on the way fills her head with kind thoughts.</p>
<p dir="ltr">478. Sunday nights </p>
<p dir="ltr">479. Getting a text from the best inviting me to birthday breakfast</p>
<p dir="ltr">481. Gluten free stuffed french toast.</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-22311542586727269362017-04-22T14:25:00.001-04:002017-04-22T14:25:44.660-04:00Counting Mine {461-473}<p dir="ltr">461. Pure friendships. Ones that are happy for your successes, sad for your struggles, open armed, and lack drama.</p>
<p dir="ltr">462. Fun afternoons of coffee, friendship, and political talk....even if you're on different sides of the aisle. </p>
<p dir="ltr">463. Finding a cute outfit in the back of the closet (on laundry day!)</p>
<p dir="ltr">464. Baby snuggles</p>
<p dir="ltr">465. Leasurely walks on a beautiful sunny day</p>
<p dir="ltr">466. Walking through a store at the perfect time when the employee is putting stuff on the ultimate clearance, and finding 14 pairs of underwear and 2 bras for $5.</p>
<p dir="ltr">467. Finding the perfect gift for the birthday girl- within budget </p>
<p dir="ltr">468. Coming out of a mental fog</p>
<p dir="ltr">469. Snuggles with the dog</p>
<p dir="ltr">470. Morning thunderstorms - on a day where we had no where we needed to be.</p>
<p dir="ltr">471. Getting a genuine smile from someone who doesn't smile much</p>
<p dir="ltr">472. Seeing friends I haven't seen in...well, too long</p>
<p dir="ltr">473. Unexpected inclusion<br>
</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-55838048479978127052017-04-15T07:44:00.001-04:002017-04-15T07:44:09.900-04:00Love<p dir="ltr">His love for me put Him there .<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">His love for you put Him there.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">His love for the best people put Him there.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">His love for the worst people put Him there.<br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">He didn't want to do it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">He knew what was coming, and prayed, begged, his Father to "take this cup from me."</p>
<p dir="ltr">But he did it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Love isn't always sunshine and roses.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It's not always feel good.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Sometimes, most times, it's service and sacrifice.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">This was the ultimate service.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">This was the Ultimate Sacrifice.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">This was love.<br><br></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oojhktXSaSBXkADh6Csux7o24uwY5FfKm9CJpHwY34AENlFdLjiiMSlVFvJeG66QcDTRFltQ0O8m3l0z_Ejr9Vmg0CHm9tKrCDBWrt3QFbvy94dG2ZvTMoE-eMl-yLpn2UGYEuDQ3QI/s1600/FB_IMG_1492174335979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oojhktXSaSBXkADh6Csux7o24uwY5FfKm9CJpHwY34AENlFdLjiiMSlVFvJeG66QcDTRFltQ0O8m3l0z_Ejr9Vmg0CHm9tKrCDBWrt3QFbvy94dG2ZvTMoE-eMl-yLpn2UGYEuDQ3QI/s640/FB_IMG_1492174335979.jpg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-45914507562692914832017-04-01T13:30:00.001-04:002017-04-01T13:30:42.648-04:00Counting Mine {447-460}<p dir="ltr">447. Remembering the phone charger</p>
<p dir="ltr">448. And when you forget the charger, remembering the external battery.</p>
<p dir="ltr">449. Remembering to charge the external battery</p>
<p dir="ltr">450. Great clearance sales  that fit like a glove</p>
<p dir="ltr">451. Taking a chance and buying a dress off amazon, and having it fit well.</p>
<p dir="ltr">452. Early morning snuggles with Ally </p>
<p dir="ltr">453. Wine</p>
<p dir="ltr">454. A night with friends and wine </p>
<p dir="ltr">455. No wine hangover</p>
<p dir="ltr">456. The smell of the dirt in a freshly turned garden</p>
<p dir="ltr">457. The song of a Robin</p>
<p dir="ltr">458. When the 13 year old declares that he will do his own laundry from now on</p>
<p dir="ltr">459. A cavity free check up</p>
<p dir="ltr">460. The start of baseball <u>season</u></p>
<p dir="ltr">458. Hitting your water intake goal three days in a row</p>
<p dir="ltr">460. Date nights that include lots of laughter<br><br></p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-82714324034333750062017-03-30T06:57:00.001-04:002017-03-30T06:57:40.251-04:00A final farewell<p dir="ltr">We've tried to say good-bye before: you and me.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">But I kept needing you.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">We met 14 years ago...<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">This shiny newness....neither of us knew what was coming. How our paths would walk together for so long. Your usefulness in so many different ways.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Your reliability: unparalleled. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Your durability: unmatched.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You held my children. All 3.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You allowed them rest. You were there for clapping at parades. For the first big walk around the new neighborhood. For the off-roading of the baseball fields. You were there.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Dear old friend, you were no frills. Not a trendy name; no bells and whistles. I loved you for it. Nothing broke, nothing stolen, just a sturdy companion.</p>
<p dir="ltr">They are 13, 9 and 4 now. Grown enough to walk almost everywhere. And, well....you see, the back of my van is getting full already with folding chairs and sports equipment. We are moving into an entirely new chapter. You were one of the last holds I had on the old one. I loved you for hanging in there so long. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I watched as somebody bought you. I hope and pray that they take good care of you, trusted steed. I pray for their littles, and for this amazing chapter of life they are in. Oh, the chapter of bringing babies into the world. The crazy sleep-deprived diaper/feeding scheduling chapter. But also one filled with amazing discoveries and big surprises (see aforementioned 4 year old). What a joy. What a privilege. What a chapter.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Farewell, old friend.<br>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-U0Tq05Y0QFe7rsZ3XcZbLIrN-UCqgQPb0n9IpTxx8dv9JRpF44J1phZVCloC0JUpdIq1if4U3d_x7gxRvpFzwvTi8RMZRgClHZkcYb1GpoqmJsErpFetfpuTHvhAouhZz2p8TPK9A7o/s1600/20170315_115215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-U0Tq05Y0QFe7rsZ3XcZbLIrN-UCqgQPb0n9IpTxx8dv9JRpF44J1phZVCloC0JUpdIq1if4U3d_x7gxRvpFzwvTi8RMZRgClHZkcYb1GpoqmJsErpFetfpuTHvhAouhZz2p8TPK9A7o/s640/20170315_115215.jpg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-76943840212460093212017-02-07T22:31:00.001-05:002017-02-07T22:31:11.582-05:00Top ten: things I learned or loved this week<p dir="ltr">1. An afternoon spent getting to know a new friend (and her sweet baby) over coffee is a great afternoon indeed.</p>
<p dir="ltr">2. I love getting emails from my son's teacher when she's advocating for him. It means he is loved by her. </p>
<p dir="ltr">3. I also have no problem sending a reply that essentially says "dude, I give up."</p>
<p dir="ltr">4.  I'm less and less impressed by all the protesting or pandering....not that I was at all impressed in the first place.</p>
<p dir="ltr">5.  It's never never never fun to be the one who is disregarded.  But always good to be that person once in a while. It keeps one mindful about inclusion.</p>
<p dir="ltr">6.  Sweet baby head smell. Enough said.</p>
<p dir="ltr">7.  Crabby kid= a kid who needs more sleep. Every crabby remark results in 5 minutes subtracted from bedtime. MiddleC has earned a good night sleep tonight.</p>
<p dir="ltr">8.  Filling their tank fills my tank. One-on-one time with these kids is so so beneficial to our relationships.</p>
<p dir="ltr">9.  A nice pair of earrings is icing on the cake of a great outfit. Also a great way to dress up some yoga pants. Just sayin.</p>
<p dir="ltr">10.  Sunshine. I love it. Please send more.</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-27639707859799412082017-01-31T10:29:00.001-05:002017-01-31T16:30:00.929-05:00Ten on Tuesday: things I want to be better at<p dir="ltr">Life is full of areas for improvement, isn't it? At least, it is for me. The dialogue inside my head is always showing me where I fall short. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Like it or lump it,  it's true.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is where I need to be careful to not allow Satan to get a foothold here. His words are lies determined to bring me into a dark hole. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I need to work on looking for the light in that hole. A nudge from the Holy Spirit never brings me into a darker place, rather it brings me closer to the Light. It lifts me rather than condemns me.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">Since we are at the end of January,  I thought it would be fitting to do a list of areas I feel the Holy Spirit nudging.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">Not for an attagurl,  but for accountability :</p>
<p dir="ltr">1. Less helpless, more helpful.<br>
Focus less on where I can<i>'t help, and more on where I can.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>2. Less selfies, more selfless</i><br>
<i>I have taken more selfies in 2016 than any other year. I need to point the camera OUT more, rather than back at me.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>3.  Less lazy, more movement</i><br>
<i>Clean. Help. Exercise. Be productive. Move.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>4. Less inconsistent, more consistent.</i><br>
<i>Stick to the rules. Follow the schedule.  Get things done.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>5. Less judging, more grace.</i><br>
<i>Grace begets grace.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>6. Less grudges, more forgiveness.</i><br>
<i>What does true forgiveness look like here?</i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>7. Less write-offs, more relationships.</i><br>
<i>Why do we, as humans, feel it's so easy to write people off? Why do we distance ourselves from them because we worship our own social standing? I want to stand in the gap.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>8. Less talking. More action.</i><br>
<i>Let me be a person who gets things done.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>9. Less speakin, more listening.</i><br>
<i>I was given two ears and one mouth for a reason.</i><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">10. Less me, more God.<br>
<i>This speaks for myself.</i></p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-87575236407231534792017-01-21T09:22:00.001-05:002017-01-21T09:22:51.015-05:00Inauguration feelings<p dir="ltr">So, we have a new president.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Here's where I start this post by telling you that I wasn't really rooting for anyone in this race. He wasn't my first, second, or third choice....but oh golly....did I not want her to win either.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yeah, we're going to touch on politics on this blog. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Eight years ago, I felt betrayed by my fellow voters. That they had failed to do the research I had. Fear for the future that lay ahead. I felt voiceless, helpless, hopeless.</p>
<p dir="ltr">A lot of what the other half is probably feeling today, to be honest. Guess what guys....I understand how you feel!</p>
<p dir="ltr">And just how I felt, you will get through these next few years. You will feel frustrated. You will feel helpless and hopeless. While I'm sad you'll probably feel that way (because it's uncomfortable to feel this way, right?), you CAN do one thing:<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Pray.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">You can pray.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You can pray that our government will stand firm and strong. You can pray for our success. We're all on this same boat, and no one wants to sink. </p>
<p dir="ltr">For the past eight years, I've prayed for God to guide president Obama, and I'm going to do the same for president Trump. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Join me, please.</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-66896628115071810242017-01-15T19:39:00.001-05:002017-01-15T19:39:10.155-05:00Six<p dir="ltr">You guys.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Six.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Six blog posts in one year.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Total.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I miss you all. I miss this space.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I miss the relief.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I miss the voice.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Not a day goes by that I don't have a potential blog post running through my head.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">But it never gets to this space. <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">I'm going to try to change that.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">At the VERY least, I'm going to try to beat my number from last year!</p>
<p dir="ltr">Hope to see more of you soon!</p>
<p dir="ltr">(In the meantime, Go Pack Go!)</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-39504202178204338042016-10-07T17:40:00.001-04:002016-10-07T17:40:47.138-04:00Yesterday, I turned forty.<p dir="ltr">So, yesterday was my birthday.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It was a bigger one.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Forty.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Four. Zero.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Anyway, for some </p>
<p dir="ltr">(Weird, unknown, crazy, bizarre )</p>
<p dir="ltr">Reason, I decided it would be a GREAT idea to find a few new clothes.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Something cute for my birthday dinner date with the hubs</p>
<p dir="ltr">So, I decided to try one some jeans.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yes, on my 40th birthday.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I found some cute trendy ones...<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">...some with frayed holes...</p>
<p dir="ltr">Cute in the hanger.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I tried them on...<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">And laughed.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You know what it looked like when I looked in the mirror?<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Mid-life crisis<br></p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-39472464198328334742016-05-11T11:10:00.004-04:002016-06-12T21:19:56.636-04:00Motherhood:the fine line<div dir="ltr">
So, we just passed by Mother's Day.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
A day for moms everywhere to be appreciated and celebrated for the <strike>weekend</strike> ....</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<strike>day....</strike></div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<em> 20 minutes</em> it takes to open cards and give hugs.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<em>Am I right???</em></div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
But every Mother's Day does cause me to stop and think. To be thankful for the little hearts that have been entrusted to me. To think about this journey of motherhood that I'm on- to do a self-evaluation on how I think I'm doing shepherding their hearts.... and to be thankful for the mentors that have gone before me and the community of moms that are around me.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
This year, I realized that Motherhood is all about walking a fine line.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Sometimes the lines blur a bit on top of each other... but all fine line nonetheless.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<ul dir="ltr">
<li><div>
Between keeping them humble and filling their confidence</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between getting them to practice in order to build skill and instilling enough confidence for them to go out and get in the game.</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between loving their "good morning wake up" and loathing them for the inability to sleep in (for the last 12 years....)</div>
</li>
<li><div>
It's a fine line between filling them with wholesome food and just getting through a mealtime without complaint</div>
</li>
<li><div>
For the gratitude of never having a too quiet house and the over stimulation of having a house that is never quiet.</div>
</li>
<li><div>
It's a fine line between protecting their hearts and allowing them to learn a life lesson.</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between clothing them enough to not look homeless and the pretentious label-snob.</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between waiting the course and calling the Dr. when illness strikes</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between wanting to give them the world and making them earn it.</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between me-time and us-time </div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between gleaning wisdom from mentors and blazing your I own path</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between laundry and play </div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between sanity and insanity</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between pride and humility</div>
</li>
<li><div>
Between thankfulness and ringyourneckness. </div>
</li>
<li><div>
It's a fine line between holding them in the moment, and pushing them into the next...</div>
</li>
</ul>
<h3 dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #351c75;">Between holding on.....and letting go.</span></h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCgOdOslZtaSii0q0qUNbVAVIo-YVJKGjqdBbiLZT_odR8Bf0xh8aecYcL7f6nqIP8Ze8m5qoGl0N56aT6t3j1cLDAKAA7hTrocu6FIi8gau_6rYg0fKKu9QMMLAnzi5GwvF1fZi54BQ/s1600/20160405_135427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCgOdOslZtaSii0q0qUNbVAVIo-YVJKGjqdBbiLZT_odR8Bf0xh8aecYcL7f6nqIP8Ze8m5qoGl0N56aT6t3j1cLDAKAA7hTrocu6FIi8gau_6rYg0fKKu9QMMLAnzi5GwvF1fZi54BQ/s640/20160405_135427.jpg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-14869815052499875432016-04-24T19:01:00.001-04:002016-04-24T19:01:33.815-04:00Counting Mine {427-446}<p dir="ltr">427. Advancing to the next phase in Phase 10 while everyone stays behind.</p>
<p dir="ltr">428. Loosing the speck in the eye. Literally.</p>
<p dir="ltr">429. Kids who choose the right option- even when they don't know anyone is watching.</p>
<p dir="ltr">430. A looooong hot shower. </p>
<p dir="ltr">431. Willing hearts and able hands. All in the name of church community</p>
<p dir="ltr">432. A little one who loves to brush her teeth</p>
<p dir="ltr">433. Loving the other parents on the baseball sidelines. </p>
<p dir="ltr">434. Reconnecting with old friends- and you pick up right where you left off.</p>
<p dir="ltr">435.  Kids that understand the need to keep their committments- even when they're not super excited about it. And finding something good about it all.</p>
<p dir="ltr">436. A husband who can do mechanical work.</p>
<p dir="ltr">437. Coffee shared with sweet friends.</p>
<p dir="ltr">438. Cuddles with the dog.</p>
<p dir="ltr">439. A full nights sleep</p>
<p dir="ltr">440.  The crockpot during our busy season</p>
<p dir="ltr">441. The perfect fit.</p>
<p dir="ltr">442. The pastor who chooses to stay.</p>
<p dir="ltr">443. Easy bedtime routines</p>
<p dir="ltr">444. The perfect MOPS speaker.</p>
<p dir="ltr">445. The humbled feeling in my heart when I was called wise.</p>
<p dir="ltr">446. James 3:13-18</p>
letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-59447607212685077542016-04-23T14:43:00.001-04:002016-04-23T14:44:53.969-04:00Mine<p dir="ltr">So, we are in this season of spring. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Manic May seems to have arrived early. At least the <i>manic</i> part of it anyway.</p>
<p dir="ltr">A few nights ago, I was headed out to reconnect with my friend. Before I met with her, I had to drop A-dubya off at baseball practice. I looped back past our street on my way out .</p>
<p dir="ltr">The church behind us faces this main street. They have beautiful expansive lawns. While driving by, I saw a man and a little girl in their front lawn trying to fly a kite. The dad looked so patient and gentle with his little girl in her pink ballcap. The sight melted my heart. </p>
<p dir="ltr">As I drove closer, I was able to get a better look of this sweet scene. And I realized:<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">That was my husband</p>
<p dir="ltr">With our little girl.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">And my heart nearly exploded. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I didn't snap a picture because I was driving, but I did take a mental picture and humbly asked God to make this a sticky memory- one that I won't ever forget.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Later, that night Dave sent me this:</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpiSlqcmK5xYkk2XBA8ptrD8gyaotAGjg1Xg_1vg9nA9bTh_PE3Oy_EfeeRby8haF-gQ2c4qkRZUBkySPysyOrBbNz3yWDrYGpORucUvUG2qyR7AVoif2sbrgJ1BXE21xqBgXfIhp4JQ/s1600/6324.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpiSlqcmK5xYkk2XBA8ptrD8gyaotAGjg1Xg_1vg9nA9bTh_PE3Oy_EfeeRby8haF-gQ2c4qkRZUBkySPysyOrBbNz3yWDrYGpORucUvUG2qyR7AVoif2sbrgJ1BXE21xqBgXfIhp4JQ/s640/6324.jpeg"> </a> </div>letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-17258823851286593662016-03-19T09:59:00.001-04:002016-03-19T09:59:17.250-04:00Hey...hey you....yeah you.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqrbrvpe0yvteCXAD_CS2jmRRE7B-3qlsUMH2zC7RBwyLxTv4K47agXktX_luowxyPm6jgJgKJ_PpBGIlneauKPP0-lOu2uQ50Cziie4z9H1vh5y6SkYdYxXVXy1wk6KrlIAs7vGZNQs/s1600/FB_IMG_1458395759679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqrbrvpe0yvteCXAD_CS2jmRRE7B-3qlsUMH2zC7RBwyLxTv4K47agXktX_luowxyPm6jgJgKJ_PpBGIlneauKPP0-lOu2uQ50Cziie4z9H1vh5y6SkYdYxXVXy1wk6KrlIAs7vGZNQs/s640/FB_IMG_1458395759679.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />letsgotothehops@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07434436978289067587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1296837446964972838.post-33762510151016391022016-02-25T11:58:00.003-05:002016-02-25T11:58:42.730-05:00So, it has been a while...Yep. It's been a while since I last met you here in the <i>blogosphere</i>. There isn't any exact reason why, per se...but in the past year, <span style="font-size: large;">our world has shifted a bit.</span> <br />
<br />
World-shifting requires some adjustment,<br />
some healing,<br />
some introspection,<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
and some good old-fashioned <i>God-clinging</i>. </div>
<br />
So, that's what we've been up to. Things are leveling out now, so I'm hopeful that I will get back to my regularly scheduled self-deprecating humor outlet....no promises. :)<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(But there is always hope.) </i> </span></div>
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So, in pure PMD style, I'm going to give you a sweet little list of lessons learned or things I'm thankful for over the past year:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">1. The lesson learned</span></div>
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So, I'm not going to lie. My first feeling with all of the adjustment is <span style="font-size: x-large;">anger</span>. Frustration. Disappointment. Those were my knee-jerks. I was angry that choices were made. That sad and scary pictures were painted to garner votes in a specific direction...that no one fought for what <i>(we thought was)</i> the Right outcome. I was angry. I had a lot of questions about specific details; questions that went unanswered. And looking back, I know that pride is the main reason. <i>Pride on both sides. </i> Theirs and mine. That pride causes us to sin, am I right?</div>
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So, here's where I tell you about <b>my pride</b> story. After a specifically stressful congregational meeting, we were standing in the narthex of our old church. I was talking to someone and A. was next to me trying to push me along. We overheard a conversation had between a board member and a congregational member that went something like this:</div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;">Member:</span><span style="color: #274e13;"> <i>If the school closes, don't you think we'll loose members that we can't afford to loose?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #073763;">Board member: <i>We think the loss will be <u>insignificant.</u></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Member: <i>But what about those that are members of the church and in the school who leave? Families we can't afford to loose?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #073763;">Board member: <i>At this point, they would just be <u>collateral damage.</u></i></span></div>
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So, A. heard this...as did I. And instead of punching him, we left. </div>
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That person on the board leading our church just called our family </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>insignificant collateral damage. </b></span></div>
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It's been a hard road coming back from those three words.</div>
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They are the words that have rang through my head for the last 5 months.</div>
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Insignificant collateral damage.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Insignificant collateral damage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Insignificant collateral damage.</span></div>
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And...then, I just decided to let it go. I was praying one night, and I came to the realization that it's ALL insignificant collateral damage. My obedience is not any more important than anyone else's. My obedience is between me and God...and no one else. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">In the end, the only thing that matters is Jesus. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">In the end, the only thing that matters is what Christ did for me on the cross. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">That's it. </span></b></div>
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And what this jerk said in the back of church is a reflection of his heart, not mine.</div>
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And just like that, I'm free from that chain.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">2. I still have my refugees. </span></div>
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I'll not lie, it was hard to say good-bye to some amazing people. Even local people that I know played a big part in creating a firm foundation at our old church- ones I know I will probably not see much again. I was so used to them being a part of the background that I forgot to make them part of the foreground. </div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMi7EXbWNEGoeJfmnU6nxhBfGLexg3XSg5hAMn1H7HcqgZM8EOobSGuBJnFo26VHg1njW1ZXiZMV4Npzk6cG8LTSDfCFFw5mdBaVQKiifwn15qHsbG3yYoCqI4RxnQH8MPJtfzEauqwM/s1600/IMG_20150829_134352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMi7EXbWNEGoeJfmnU6nxhBfGLexg3XSg5hAMn1H7HcqgZM8EOobSGuBJnFo26VHg1njW1ZXiZMV4Npzk6cG8LTSDfCFFw5mdBaVQKiifwn15qHsbG3yYoCqI4RxnQH8MPJtfzEauqwM/s320/IMG_20150829_134352.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But, there are others that I was linked arms with. <span style="font-size: large;">And unlinking arms and stepping away from that line was probably one of the hardest parts of this whole thing.</span> But it doesn't end here. A few of us have decided to stay in touch with monthly get-togethers. We make it <i>(and each other)</i> a priority, and <u>unconditionally</u> support each other. This group has been such a lifeline for me. It helped me see that we're not the only ones not bouncing back quickly, and healing our hearts one step at a time. I'm so grateful for these mamas and their hearts. For being vulnerable, and for being open to visiting new restaurants in the area (ha!) I love that we call ourselves "refugees." Instead of GNO <i>(girl's night out)</i> on the calendar, I get to write RNO. I'm thankful for these ladies and the new vocabulary they've given me in jest. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">3. Middle school</span></div>
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Yep, I'm going to choose to be thankful for middle school. And even more thankful for this kid:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9xasQ11wIE7jWgUedmGjRp3KIFoqVuGVtkqNwC01dx5S1KvQ-ueGEvz9obd4hOyaWwojEG9DVqLZL09FpPXaKislmUflqhHa8q_gtSUZL731x5PaUskNZGcM5RHz6eYmIOZgsd_mut4/s1600/20160211_121145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9xasQ11wIE7jWgUedmGjRp3KIFoqVuGVtkqNwC01dx5S1KvQ-ueGEvz9obd4hOyaWwojEG9DVqLZL09FpPXaKislmUflqhHa8q_gtSUZL731x5PaUskNZGcM5RHz6eYmIOZgsd_mut4/s320/20160211_121145.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
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You guys, middle school is hard.</div>
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Middle school in a new school is hardER.</div>
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And this kid is pretty awesome.</div>
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He's learned a lot of life lessons over the past year. He's asked a lot of BIG questions that let me know he's thinking for himself and paying attention to his surroundings. Dave and I were most worried about him and how he would assimilate- given that his default emotion is anxiety. He has shown remarkable growth in the past year, and I love the heart for God this boy has.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">4. Eight is great</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4e4HsXAKCT-FCqlLevr9N3yd7FdAb7idvgh7pb5Tep4afaHqVV38JcIVHLOcH2JBO2nEYvhY-LLPpJgwEEKuJHGeYFv-m63xsP9_aQcyUuGwTOfWIQxk6xwmhUoHingEujhqym5mB0DY/s1600/20160211_121153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4e4HsXAKCT-FCqlLevr9N3yd7FdAb7idvgh7pb5Tep4afaHqVV38JcIVHLOcH2JBO2nEYvhY-LLPpJgwEEKuJHGeYFv-m63xsP9_aQcyUuGwTOfWIQxk6xwmhUoHingEujhqym5mB0DY/s320/20160211_121153.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
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Because everything about 8 is awkward, but he does it with swagger. He had some great friends that he was leaving behind, and he still grieves these relationships, but still manages to blaze a <i>balls-to-the-wall </i>trail looking forward. He's even asked a lot of questions this past year- ones that I thought were WAY above his level...and it's been a great opportunity to <span style="font-size: large;">shepherd his heart. </span><br />
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This kid has the ability to read people and actions VERY well. He once asked me to send a text message to someone, and after a week of no reply, I had to tell him that there was a "no-text back." His response? <br />
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<i>"Mom, I think the no-text-back is just a coward's way to not handle uncomfortable situations and feelings."</i><br />
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<i>Word, Middle C. Word.</i> </div>
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This kid will go far in life. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">5. Leadership with integrity.</span></div>
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This kind of speaks for itself.</div>
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When Dave and I went looking for new churches this summer, we did a LOT of research about where we wanted our family to land. We listened to sermons online, we asked a lot of questions about governance. We paid attention to "checklist" items on our visits. And we found our <i>"soft landing."</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhondUFCchN864WmhIIqHJKiCBEL5eG-AexGFzeJzOkBoEbadOj2qEiRxaT2L86Rq6VDgJ0jgNHpAMx04tUin5WvwaPA8hHvnlR5xuzVCkoU8UH7O5HaegaZ33-sL746zXUteuR4-dY4T8/s1600/20160212_120249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhondUFCchN864WmhIIqHJKiCBEL5eG-AexGFzeJzOkBoEbadOj2qEiRxaT2L86Rq6VDgJ0jgNHpAMx04tUin5WvwaPA8hHvnlR5xuzVCkoU8UH7O5HaegaZ33-sL746zXUteuR4-dY4T8/s320/20160212_120249.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>
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I love that our leadership avails themselves to us ANYTIME. I love that their faces light up when we ask questions. I love that they are working with us to raise Godly kids in today's society. I love that they are unabashedly who they are, and willing to say hard things in Truth and love. I love that my husband respects them and feels he has found his home. I love that I'm<u> finally feeling spiritually fed-</u> after a long <span style="font-size: large;">long</span> drought <i>(part of this goes hand in hand with early motherhood, I believe...)</i>, but man...am I really learning a lot about the Word; a fire I believed would stay dimmed but has come back to life.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">6. I love the welcome.</span></div>
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I'll admit. My heart was sour at first and I wanted to keep everyone at an arm's length.</div>
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I was a mess the night of school orientation.</div>
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I repeated the words <i>"this is my new home. this is my new home. this is my new home" </i>every Sunday morning for 3 months. Changing directions like we did- under the reasons we did -was hard to go into a new church with blind trust and willingness to let people in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vXIPowaFgfsWOg0j80kdmoUPkq6aAeVKOWVJbmp95LHkUvKV39L5yXB9IyL74vco5LMSYW3Ey0TV9jfWVDfnvanHGrwaKfkMMjIav2QpEB84YejCgP3xbi6A0oA5W3lXEf_09ZipSy0/s1600/FB_IMG_1452908603002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vXIPowaFgfsWOg0j80kdmoUPkq6aAeVKOWVJbmp95LHkUvKV39L5yXB9IyL74vco5LMSYW3Ey0TV9jfWVDfnvanHGrwaKfkMMjIav2QpEB84YejCgP3xbi6A0oA5W3lXEf_09ZipSy0/s320/FB_IMG_1452908603002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But...then I met the people. The amazingly nice people.</div>
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They were all like a big family.</div>
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They welcomed us with smiles.</div>
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<i>How could I continue to frown?</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">7. I love the answered prayers.</span></div>
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I was diagnosed with stage 3 adrenal fatigue when Middle C was young. And then A started kindergarten. And the carpool started, but the early mornings were killing me. As carpools changed, I found myself driving more and more- zapping my adrenals even more. Then Baby L. came, and I found myself in stage 4. I had very little reprieve. I was getting worse every day, not better. </div>
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I remember one day on the way to school last year, I was praying for God to help me figure out a way to heal. Well, I had <b>no idea</b> He was going to answer in this way...<i>but alrighty then</i>!</div>
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I started driving the first week, and then I met the sweetest lady who literally <b>ran around</b> my arms-length hold and inserted herself in my life...and my kids in her car. This is quite possibly the neatest family, and I'm so so glad for them. She literally said <i>"I'll drive every morning."</i> and I about cried in relief. She was an extension of God saying, <i>"Sandy...get your butt in gear. This is a gift and you need to heal, remember? Rest. Start healing."</i></div>
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My kids love them, and even more so when they stop for coffee on the way to school!</div>
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But we are well-loved.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">8. And then there's our tribe. </span> </div>
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Our new tribe.</div>
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This group of families has been <span style="font-size: large;">amazing</span>. Not to mention <i>healing</i>. Having a group of men that my introverted-husband can connect with quickly has been nothing short of <i>God-inspired</i>. I knew my husband was missing the fellowship of our old small group, and this group has filled the hole. We've enjoyed spending big holidays with them, and look forward to a lifetime of <span style="font-size: large;">fun and friendship.</span><br />
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I'm so glad we are friends with these people.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">9. The healing. </span></div>
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Last weekend, I went back to our old school. For a basketball game that was being played there- to support a few of the kids playing and the coach <i>(who is part of our new tribe)</i>. Dave pulled out of going with only an hour to spare. I went solo because I couldn't let the kids down. I was nervous, and almost couldn't walk in the door. After lots of shaking and a few tears, I ended up enjoying the night. I enjoyed a few conversations with old friends who came over to extend a hug in hospitality. <br />
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I was afraid that I would end up in the pit of "<i>insignificant collateral damage</i>" again, but I still found myself free from that. It was healing. I sat and took it all in...the place, the gym, the bathrooms, the lobby. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Same walls...but different place. </span></div>
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I akin it to being away at college and going home for a weekend. The place you grew up is no longer feeling like home...some<i>where</i> else - some<i>persons</i>-else- feel like home. That realization has shown me just how far I've come. <b>How God has been with me, next to me, under me, this whole time. </b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatkHWQHrAZlJO7YQXRBYVyT6SdqB3zZqlKKUMf7nBiVhxB8V2gR_NFuaj-HQNxG3v1EfIojLgC3pi3VcBYKUbIdZe-6uEj7rm7GgNhZ4Q6plbIe3nauiwVcvcqfZJHWvYUVzqsaHYvUk/s1600/FB_IMG_1454335920246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatkHWQHrAZlJO7YQXRBYVyT6SdqB3zZqlKKUMf7nBiVhxB8V2gR_NFuaj-HQNxG3v1EfIojLgC3pi3VcBYKUbIdZe-6uEj7rm7GgNhZ4Q6plbIe3nauiwVcvcqfZJHWvYUVzqsaHYvUk/s320/FB_IMG_1454335920246.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">10. The husband.</span></div>
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I'd be remiss if I didn't leave him for last. :) Because this man is pretty darn amazing. When I had people telling us to abandon our faith for the behaviors of "church people" and how it is a loosing battle in today's society of stuff and debt, Dave kept his eyes focused on God. The abandoned his charges at our old church- ones he really enjoyed serving in- and tightened the nucleus of our family. He decided that his portion in our family ministry was no longer outward looking (for the time being) and was called to look inward at the four of us - and dedicated himself to shepherding us through a tough transition.</div>
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He reeled us in when we all protested going to new churches. He kept our hearts in the word at dinnertime. He asked us how we were going to serve others in our new atmosphere. While I know he has some big feelings on this past year <i>(which are not for me to share- here or anywhere)</i>, he has maintained respect and integrity behaving above reproach and keeping his eyes on God. </div>
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So, that's it in a nutshell. I'm hoping to get back to regularly schedule programming again now. </div>
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I knew I needed to get this out on the blog, but I needed to jump through a few hoops first before I went there. I needed to feel some big feelings and get over those before I wrote. </div>
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Onward and upward, right?</div>
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Oh!</div>
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and</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Go Mustangs!</span></div>
Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05472478935210732116noreply@blogger.com4