tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23285556306812848232024-03-21T10:49:06.545-07:00Moments MatterBobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-78162828878699111712014-10-16T18:48:00.001-07:002014-10-16T18:48:51.149-07:00All Aboard!!!!!!Hello there friends!!!!!<br />
<br />
Just a note to let you know that I have moved my blog to my website!!!!!!<br />
My Website is www.bkpenandpaint.com<br />
My latest blog is about my recent adventure . . . my first train ride. Please follow me over at the new blog site. Here is the link to the actually lastest blog post there.<br />
<br />
www.bkpenandpaint.com/blog<br />
<br />
blessings and hugs to all of you faithful followers!!!!!<br />
Bobbie<br />
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-1876486782926356542014-05-31T08:08:00.001-07:002014-05-31T17:28:47.161-07:00"Ribbon Art From The Heart"<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><i>"It's not how much we give but how much love we put into giving"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i>----Mother Teresa</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We've all
heard it said that virtually everyone is touched by cancer. I do believe that is true. In my own life, I have seen both of my parent’s
lives ended by cancer, watched my son-in-law, Josh, battle colon cancer, seen
numerous friends walk their cancer journeys, and of course experienced cancer
first hand when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1996. I was reminded this year that cancer is experienced
worldwide when a young friend of ours in Australia was diagnosed with it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thankfully,
I also know people working on the research end of cancer. One of my friends is a world renowned cancer
researcher at Georgetown University. I’m
happy to report that her cutting edge treatment is having great, clinical
trial, success. I’m also happy to report
that my friend, Mike, is successfully battling esophageal cancer thanks to an
amazing new treatment. All in all,
things have come a long way, Baby.
Progress is being made thanks to the people who are funding and to those
performing the research.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the organizations
I most respect is the American Cancer Society, <a href="http://www.cancer.org/">www.cancer.org</a>
. For 14 years I worked closely with
them as a volunteer with their Reach to Recovery program, the most successful
patient service program in their history.
I also did media (television and radio), and corporate speaking for them
to raise awareness and educate others to topics related to cancer and
health. I know them to be trustworthy in
the information they share, on top of the latest cancer developments, careful
with how they allocate and distribute their contributions, AND one of the
largest funders of cancer research in the United States. They fund research for ALL kinds of cancers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently I
made a decision to try and do six amazing things, (one for each decade), before
I turn sixty in January. So far I have
hand feed wild birds (yup it was amazing) and watched the sunrise over the
tidal basin and cherry trees while eating a picnic breakfast with my family. I have some other fun things in my mind, and
one of the goals is to only do things that cost little or nothing and are
amazing, so far, so good with that goal.
As I have thought about my six amazing experiences, I realized I wanted
one of them to be some type of “give back” project. I don’t want it to be all about me, because I
don’t want my life to be all about me. I
kept waiting for some inspiration and just this week, it happened. I figured out the perfect “give back” project<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For quite a
while I have thought about designing note cards using the pink ribbon prominently
used to promote breast cancer awareness.
I have seen these designs in my head but not put them on paper. Finally, just a few days ago, I made time to
get the designs out of my mind and see them in front of me just as I had envisioned. One is a vase made from the pink ribbon,
holding a bouquet of pink flowers. When
I was walking through my cancer journey many times, just when I would hit a low
spot, someone would deliver a beautiful bouquet to my door and it truly lifted
my spirits. That design reminds me of
those moments. The second design is of a hand, wearing a pink ribbon survivor
bracelet, and delivering a bouquet of flowers made from pink ribbons. This picture reminds me of being a survivor
and paying forward all the kindness shown to me during my journey.. As a Reach to Recovery
volunteer, I visited and walked along side many newly diagnosed cancer patients;
this drawing reminds me of those times.
The third design is of a butterfly, it is soaring upward. This is a symbol of those who fought the battle
and are now free of cancer, free to soar again. I've been happily soaring for almost 18 years
now! Finally, there is a notecard bearing
a crown set with three jewels, those jewels represent the three most important support systems I relied on during my cancer, my faith, my family, and my friends. That picture reminds me of how blessed I am
to have all three of those things in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now that the notecards are designed I’m
ready to launch my “give back” project.
I have printed 200 sets of what I call “Ribbon Art From The Heart”. They are $6.00 per set, and for every set I
sell I will donate $1.00 to the American Cancer Society. Although the art features the pink ribbon
which figures prominently in my own journey, I am donating the money to the ACS
because they fund ALL types of cancer and I have many friends battling many
different types of cancer right now. If
you feel led to help me reach my goal of selling these 200 note cards, you may
leave me a message on my personal Facebook page, my business Facebook page, BK
Pen and Paint, or order directly from my website <a href="http://www.bkpenandpaint.com/">www.bkpenandpaint.com</a> . If
you are local, ordering directly from me will save you the shipping. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have never
undertaken a project like this (although I have donated to other projects) and
it was a step of faith for me to order the 200 sets of note cards without
knowing whether they would sell or not. I
will not be using this blog again to solicit donations of any kind, but I’m
happy I could feature “Ribbon Art From The Heart” here, because I wanted my
friends to share in the adventure. For
all who saw me through my cancer journey, thank you, I’m forever indebted. For those who have fought and won the battle
already, I’m thrilled for you. For those
who are currently in the midst of their cancer journey, I’m walking with you in
prayer and here if you need a shoulder to lean on. Walking forward, stepping out on faith with
this third amazing experience, I’m half way through the year, and this project
is half way through my six amazing experiences, so delighted to mark the halfway
point by “giving back”!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
Please feel free to share this blog and my website with your friends who might be interested in supporting the "Ribbon Art From The Heart" project.<br />
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-79815840232516293852014-04-12T15:47:00.001-07:002014-04-12T15:59:51.749-07:00Sunrise And Cherry Blossoms<div class="MsoNormal">
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I think that I shall never see</div>
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A poem lovely as a tree.</div>
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A tree whose hungry mouth is prest</div>
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Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;</div>
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A tree that looks at God all day</div>
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And lifts her leafy arms to pray,</div>
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A tree that may in summer wear</div>
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A nest of robins in her hair;</div>
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Upon whose bosom snow has lain;</div>
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Who intimately lives with rain.</div>
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Poems are made by fools like me,</div>
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but only God can make a tree</div>
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Joyce Kilmer, "Trees," 1914</div>
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4:30 AM and the alarm sounds, time for amazing experience
number two of six leading up to my 60<sup>th</sup> birthday next year. Thankfully, I prepped the night before! Clothes laid out, picnic ready, camera with
new batteries charged up, and best of all, my family also up and dressing. We meet in the kitchen to fill our cups with
coffee and hot chocolate. Bleary-eyed,
but excited, as we talk and laugh in quiet tones so as not to wake others in
the house still sleeping. This morning,
Bob, Jean, Ellie and I are off to watch the sunrise over the blossoming Cherry
trees on the Tidal Basin in DC. A twenty
minute ride away, we finish gathering cameras, jackets and the picnic basket
and head out the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s still dark as we drive out of the neighborhood and head
toward the District. Over 40 years I
have lived in the area now. The roads
are forever etched in my mind; I know five ways to get to the same destination
(which helps when the traffic bogs down).
This early, traffic is flowing well; it’s the calm before the morning
rush hour storm. We head down the Clara
Barton Parkway, mist rises off the C & O Canal, snaking along beside us,
the mule path just barely visible in the dusky pre-dawn light. Beyond the canal we can glimpse the Potomac
River, high from recent rain, running by the most powerful city in the
world. We are getting close to the
District, the towers of Georgetown University rise above us and we are almost
there. I’m excited as the city unfolds in front of us; we follow the line of
red tail lights entering the city streets ahead of us. After all these years I still wonder how I could be blessed to live so close to this beautiful city. I still smile when the tip of the
Washington Monument begins to peek through the buildings, still marvel at the
Kennedy Center reflected in the river, still feel my heart skip a beat when I
see the Capitol dome shining above the grassy Mall. This morning, watching the sunrise down here
will be an experience I've thought about for many years, the city looks
particularly beautiful this morning, it’s clear and perfect as the stars and
the sun begin the dawn dance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We find parking amazingly close to the Tidal Basin and grab
our things. We are not alone, not by a
long shot. Couples, families,
bicyclists, old folks, young people, runners, walkers, police officers, news
crews and Photographers are all moving in the same direction toward the Tidal
Basin. Before we can see them, we smell
the Cherry Blossoms, sweet and delicate, the scent hanging softly in the
morning air. And then, we see the still
water of the Tidal Basin, and the silhouettes of the beautiful trees. The
Washington Monument is lit in the pre-dawn darkness, the Jefferson Memorial is
surrounded by blossoms, still just outlines in the dark. Camera’s flash in amazing numbers around the
Basin, and we set up our blanket and basket and watch the news teams sharing
this peak day of blossoms, this special dawn.
I watch them from my blanket as I sip hot chocolate, I know that no
matter how good their photographers and film crews are, their viewers won’t see
the sunrise like we will, it makes me smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We've brought our cameras, and we also capture these
moments. We shoot the monuments in the pre-dawn light, we take pictures of each
other and the news teams, we take pictures of early morning crewing teams on
the Potomac, beautiful art elements on the nearby bridge, the water in front of
us, the sky slowly changing from black to blue and then the sky growing lighter
behind Mr. Jefferson. It’s almost time
for the new day to dawn!!!!! And dawn it
does. The sky behind the Jefferson Memorial
is on fire as the sun makes its appearance.
The light changes the Tidal Basin into a glowing mirror, the reflections
of the monuments and the Capitol dancing on the water. The Cherry Trees are stunning; they wear
their fragrant attire beautifully and truly make the early morning trip well
worth the effort. I am so filled with
contentment as I take it all in. My
family, the city, the trees, the sky, the people, the experience, It was all I
hoped it would be. People begin to move
away as the sun rises higher, the” big event”, has come and gone and they have
places to go and life to get on to. I
sit on the blanket and munch on the ham and Swiss cheese croissants Jean made,
and some strawberries and fresh pineapple.
Yup it couldn't be more perfect.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As we pack up and head to our car, I am still reliving and
enjoying the whole dawn experience. We
settle into our seats and are back on the road heading toward home and I feel
like praying. I pray for those who will
be making important decisions just down the street in that big domed building
today, I pray for my family and thank God for blessing me with such amazing
daughters and husband, I pray for my family not able to come that morning. Then, as we retrace our route and leave the
city I start thinking about these first two experiences I've enjoyed, and how
really, the moments that matter, the most amazing moments, the really important moments in life are FREE. I have recently had two truly memorable experiences and neither cost me a thing. In this one morning, the things that made this
experience so memorable, so amazing, so fun, so awesomely beautiful were
free. My family, laughing, posing,
eating and enjoying making a memory together, free! The Cherry Trees, the
fragrance, the history, the blossoms, the beauty, free! The sun, its light, warmth, and power, free! <o:p></o:p></div>
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The trip into DC is just a memory now as we drive past Roosevelt Island and onto the George Washington Parkway. Traffic isn't flowing well heading into the
city, but we are already outbound, we have beaten the storm. Bob is talking
business on the phone, Jean is anxious to get home to Lucy so that Josh can get off to work, Ellie needs to go to an early morning event at her children’s
school and I have to make a mid-morning appointment. Sunrise and Cherry
blossoms were a great way to start the day, a respite from all the norms, a
wonderful second experience, but the time has come to get back to our every day
routines. Thankfully the memories were
made and I know through the normal hours ahead my heart will still be soaring! I am already looking forward to the next amazing adventure, won't cost a dime, because the best things in life are FREE!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGynl_R-LnM_YLSGbwG_5NyvTnnrCeiuieNGoasyeu5zEb3RaipvcBfoctAWpMjOQjCsqz13z0jM7dTOHzMO-7QZ8E1TGeyjYONlxgb0QTLSSTlbMeArMXy15pMdlSFtcGIVMXLf8Pg/s1600/ScenicZombie3-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGynl_R-LnM_YLSGbwG_5NyvTnnrCeiuieNGoasyeu5zEb3RaipvcBfoctAWpMjOQjCsqz13z0jM7dTOHzMO-7QZ8E1TGeyjYONlxgb0QTLSSTlbMeArMXy15pMdlSFtcGIVMXLf8Pg/s1600/ScenicZombie3-36.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-70814449363218176552014-03-06T10:26:00.000-08:002014-03-06T10:26:06.037-08:00A Bird In the Hand<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>"Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings."</b></i></span> Victor Hugo</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFLC88CxGWqlqEU7qqPTXjaxNRn9J-CGnkckZ9RerioYhcO31BJHM7D3Zc7hblF7YbNCxS6Pl0GHCO_R6B2EYmdBPQcWylgjyON5JjM3YEys8EJkXQIsOCMLItX9Sd2GxWCkJl8HNRAg/s1600/IMG_5045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFLC88CxGWqlqEU7qqPTXjaxNRn9J-CGnkckZ9RerioYhcO31BJHM7D3Zc7hblF7YbNCxS6Pl0GHCO_R6B2EYmdBPQcWylgjyON5JjM3YEys8EJkXQIsOCMLItX9Sd2GxWCkJl8HNRAg/s1600/IMG_5045.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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For months my friend Lisa has been training wild birds to
come and eat from her hands. Regularly she would write about her progress on
her Facebook page, I loved these posts, entitled "As the Bird
Turns". It made me want to have the
experience that she was having. To feel those tiny feet land on MY hand and eat
from MY palm. And so I asked Lisa could I come, could I feed her birds.
Graciously, my friend said yes. When my alarm woke me early this morning, I
couldn't layer up and head out the door fast enough, mittens, heavy coat and
husband with camera in tow.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We arrived at Lisa's and I finished bundling up. The morning
temperature was 26 degrees and I wouldn't be moving. Lisa gave me her hat,
which the birds were already familiar with, instructions not to move, how to
hold my hand, and a reminder not to look around or move my eyes, and then we
were on the porch. Lisa settled me on the chair, gave her familiar bird “hello”,
to her feathered friends, and then left me, sitting, not moving, my mittened hand full of
fresh walnuts.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQyU5KL5mb0fj3R2rkFkrluS1V8KcDa5DyOEWereKMk-6GPmAbz04m7l8AmFEuo3oL0nHWxHJNjkVHeMrOWwhKxkWG83JfpSDqYO4qatGx-eGwZ847BeDCwzVKeDa-BYVh_N4OkPQ5A/s1600/IMG_5042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQyU5KL5mb0fj3R2rkFkrluS1V8KcDa5DyOEWereKMk-6GPmAbz04m7l8AmFEuo3oL0nHWxHJNjkVHeMrOWwhKxkWG83JfpSDqYO4qatGx-eGwZ847BeDCwzVKeDa-BYVh_N4OkPQ5A/s1600/IMG_5042.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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All was still. Snow still on the ground and chill in the
air. I took slow, quiet breaths. I felt myself melting into my surroundings.
And I waited. The minutes stretched on. 10 or 15 minutes passed and although I
could hear tiny, feathered friends flitting and stirring around me, none
approached to feed. My fingers began to feel numb. I was not giving up yet. I
began to pray. I lost track of the time, and then the unmistakable rustle of
wings nearby broke the silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8zEK30M0RJqyloKpMEQW79YRwMii0nOe61aUNHKW10fu1lz7gSlaapjQCAZ6h-6ScBLydElt8l-Pz_B3FvD69UNj8XipAXhNzG7-aS-rxpRHOEJ4mg1BCSMHSZhucMz51LS0zNfwAw/s1600/IMG_5057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8zEK30M0RJqyloKpMEQW79YRwMii0nOe61aUNHKW10fu1lz7gSlaapjQCAZ6h-6ScBLydElt8l-Pz_B3FvD69UNj8XipAXhNzG7-aS-rxpRHOEJ4mg1BCSMHSZhucMz51LS0zNfwAw/s1600/IMG_5057.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Suddenly a little Titmouse appeared. Thoughts tumbled
through my mind, stream of consciousness, "Don't be afraid little one,
come and feed, I have good things here for you. Stop fluttering about, don't
hesitate, I won't hurt you, come and rest and enjoy these blessings." The feeling of tiny feet on my fingertips
will never be forgotten; my heart
soared. My facial expression never changed, I barely dared to breathe, I made
no sound, but, my heart was singing, my spirit was smiling. All the long
minutes (about a half an hour) of silent, stillness, and waiting, were for that
one moment, worth it all. The experience repeated itself over and over again. The
thrill never abaited.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtoNfuYtHBTgKthYikS5gWIXrGneL18iZOKJH9HV6cn6N0Db6m93whBtxkZ2ndt7azZiyLjlyKn2W7beNrbk2Ua1vazPb-8P_zOb7Xgyjw19z0neghZeWyIdsSmgmDDJREym2y48M7Sw/s1600/IMG_5077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtoNfuYtHBTgKthYikS5gWIXrGneL18iZOKJH9HV6cn6N0Db6m93whBtxkZ2ndt7azZiyLjlyKn2W7beNrbk2Ua1vazPb-8P_zOb7Xgyjw19z0neghZeWyIdsSmgmDDJREym2y48M7Sw/s1600/IMG_5077.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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I would have sat there much longer but my hand was starting
to shake and the cold was taking its toll. As much as I wanted the experience
to continue, I knew I needed to stretch and move, even though doing so would
mean ending this amazing encounter. I had to warm up. Reluctantly I stood and
my new feathered friends scattered to nearby branches. A squirrel who had
ventured a peek scurried down the trunk of the snowy tree hanging over the
railing. These special moments would never be forgotten.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyxQv5-JOLfHU1Lfq-1ornZNKa8Tk9xqDkQtgeKS8vEN386LBVtGJzAWtJlH6NHF4F95oGI_j-Jt_sExtHdYVxQaZqUUOsOSkdLR-g_1o_buYwF6hlsJbTA5Nl-n0Zsbuf8Il7KFBkw/s1600/IMG_5084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyxQv5-JOLfHU1Lfq-1ornZNKa8Tk9xqDkQtgeKS8vEN386LBVtGJzAWtJlH6NHF4F95oGI_j-Jt_sExtHdYVxQaZqUUOsOSkdLR-g_1o_buYwF6hlsJbTA5Nl-n0Zsbuf8Il7KFBkw/s1600/IMG_5084.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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This experience was Holy on so many levels. The closeness to
the tiny, perfect creatures warmed and amazed me. Their fragility, and their
courage, their beauty and perfectly equipped feathered bodies were stunning.
The stillness, mine and the world around me, altered my being, drew me into a
quiet state of worship. As I looked at the fresh bounty in my palm, I thought
how God stretches His hand laden with blessings out to ME and to ALL of US. I
realized how often I flutter around, too busy, or too afraid to reach out and
receive God's blessings. I realized how His heart must soar when I (and you)
rest and refresh in His hands. God spoke to me in the stillness this morning
and through the beauty of His creation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqZy-H3vyymh6K5eQa7fI0IFkh4Ck_72eS6o9z-97PJqEMZoIPX9JcghkXluT7opJ0UbqhYR673_hu1ktHsi86iXXNNWBAjX-N_c7oMYRweLE5yCbsbZ4884n7lZqzsYtkE3UYHcBRw/s1600/IMG_5134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqZy-H3vyymh6K5eQa7fI0IFkh4Ck_72eS6o9z-97PJqEMZoIPX9JcghkXluT7opJ0UbqhYR673_hu1ktHsi86iXXNNWBAjX-N_c7oMYRweLE5yCbsbZ4884n7lZqzsYtkE3UYHcBRw/s1600/IMG_5134.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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As I approach my 60th birthday next January, my goal is to
enjoy 6 new experiences, one for each decade of life. Today was my first. Hoping each adventure
will be as amazing. Praying each one of you finds rest and refreshment in the
hands of The Lord. He's sitting very still, and very patiently waiting to bless us all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADSQ2lxzBXVJGO_6VhrkCCMgghtYNdxpgMdW8mB_gk0oTUnMdYh1hWU-Gyr5uIw5CGdhwLV4vTxaaPKWWy34YDvqZapsGRTTIJdQryRTj2ZV2U5pZNMHMHbTyJ1TAx7ZuB6p0NZCyMQ/s1600/IMG_5027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADSQ2lxzBXVJGO_6VhrkCCMgghtYNdxpgMdW8mB_gk0oTUnMdYh1hWU-Gyr5uIw5CGdhwLV4vTxaaPKWWy34YDvqZapsGRTTIJdQryRTj2ZV2U5pZNMHMHbTyJ1TAx7ZuB6p0NZCyMQ/s1600/IMG_5027.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Many thanks to my
friend, Lisa Schnoor for sharing her birds with me, and to my amazing husband
for capturing these precious moments.
You both blessed me abundantly.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-54862171784729893762014-01-05T13:15:00.001-08:002014-01-05T13:15:23.704-08:00In The Blink of An Eye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj5lOubIFY0QjCFdTpvLDfkukKVOISbJ7G65HC5FGqy5Ej8MKjzEie0POUH3WNblx84RJRAuxPPuqhTYrGHOnqnNxQfAlqwCWG65PtIjAEGS-HxCWOXxY1eCHotywyEkqNt52VMic2A/s1600/1525237_10202245030594748_1562106932_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj5lOubIFY0QjCFdTpvLDfkukKVOISbJ7G65HC5FGqy5Ej8MKjzEie0POUH3WNblx84RJRAuxPPuqhTYrGHOnqnNxQfAlqwCWG65PtIjAEGS-HxCWOXxY1eCHotywyEkqNt52VMic2A/s320/1525237_10202245030594748_1562106932_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">You would think that, at my age, I
would no longer be surprised when my seemingly normal life becomes unraveled in
the blink of an eye. I received a phone call seventeen years ago, informing me
I had cancer; results indicating a life threatening infection a couple years
later; an unexpected summons to assist with a sudden medical crisis; and in the
last three years, three separate missteps that have left me with painful
injuries and even the need for surgery. But for some reason, surprise me it
does!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It's amazing how easily I fall back
into "normal" between each life-altering jolt. Maybe I'm a slow
learner. Perhaps I'm not picking up on the "lessons" these unexpected
and grind-to-a-halt challenges are meant to teach me. But with this latest
fall, broken wrist, and upcoming surgery I'm ready to take a really close look
at what it is I need to glean.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I have learned some things from the
hard (and often painful) experiences I have faced. I think I'm more
compassionate, take less for granted (like having two strong arms for example),
enjoy the small things in life more, and enjoy the big things in life more
(like a day without pain). But every time I'm up against the wall, I realize I
still haven't learned all that I am meant to or need to.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Last night was a long one for me. I
spent hours in the dark, pushing back all the fears rising in me and
threatening to swallow me up, as I face surgery tomorrow. I know that
"perfect love casts out fear". But even as I grow older, I still
haven't learned how to rest and be peaceful in that perfect love, no matter the
situation. I still wrestle at the onset of these unsettling and unnerving
experiences, although I do think my
get-to-the-point-of-total-surrender-and-trust times are shortening.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I usually do reach that moment of
peace. That moment where I realize there is nothing left but to trust and
believe that The Lord will bring me safely through, whatever trial I'm facing.
I wish I could say my break-through moment comes faster with each experience,
but I can't. I wish I didn't struggle and wrestle with my fears and anxieties
with every life-altering challenge I face, but I do! Thankfully, God isn't
standing over me with a stop watch timing my process. But I feel sure He is
standing solidly by my side to see me safely through every scary and painful
moment, and is heartbroken that it takes me so long to rest in His grip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I have walked closely with The Lord
for almost 38 years. I know that these tribulations are not God sent, but I
have learned that He does meet me and teach me in the midst of them. Please
pray that I will be a better student when it comes to finding peace and calm in
the stormy seas of fear and anxiety. Pray that I can feel His strong hand and
healing spirit when I am wheeled into that sterile operating room tomorrow. And
pray that when the next unexpected challenge occurs (and it surely will), I
will clasp His strong hand more quickly with my newly repaired right hand and a
peaceful heart.</span> <o:p></o:p></div>
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-71244153497642080372013-09-26T08:41:00.000-07:002013-09-26T08:41:14.404-07:00Forty Years and Forty Pounds Later!<h1 style="color: #003399; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>"Good friends are like stars. . .you don't always see them, but you know they are there."</i></span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeH60SdFmjm12QvApCok7wDx2i6d6wKzdqvzraZHLTqhuBsLoRkE9nrX59AqPZyQjiUSAK6GWjKPJikuRDOSLS5R-QXtReZQlYMtL05n9AVtll0PGeRKSjflRlR3qDi73S3AEBMy8ONA/s1600/IMG_4833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeH60SdFmjm12QvApCok7wDx2i6d6wKzdqvzraZHLTqhuBsLoRkE9nrX59AqPZyQjiUSAK6GWjKPJikuRDOSLS5R-QXtReZQlYMtL05n9AVtll0PGeRKSjflRlR3qDi73S3AEBMy8ONA/s320/IMG_4833.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Sorority Picture "Penguins" 1971<br />
<br />
For the past few months, Bob and I have been planning a trip
to my hometown, Oak Ridge, Tennessee. Nestled in the Cumberland Mountains, it’s
an amazing town, nicknamed “The Secret City” for the role it played during the
Manhattan Project. My family arrived in Oak Ridge about twelve years after the
end of the war. My father was a research scientist, my mother a homemaker, and
I was eighteen months old. The third of four daughters, you can imagine how
lively our home was. I spent the next sixteen and half years enjoying the
benefits of this unique community, making friends and memories.<br />
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When I was eighteen, just out of high school, my father made
a move to Maryland, to finish his career with the Nuclear Regulatory
Commission. My younger sister and I moved with our parents to another amazing
town and state. The beautiful area just outside of Washington, D.C. has been my
home for the last four decades. In all
those forty years I have only been back to Tennessee a handful of times, but
next month there is a special event luring me “home”: my 40th high school
reunion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Social media, Facebook
specifically, has allowed me to reconnect with many of my high school friends. When
I heard about the reunion I was both excited and nervous. A lot about me has
changed in the ensuing years. In many ways, maybe most ways, I’m a very
different person. And I quickly realized that reconnecting via Facebook is very
different than reconnecting face to face. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I debated with myself about
attending, I was reminded of a fad that many of us enjoyed during our Jr. and
Sr. High years called the “come as you are party”. This fad usually involved an
early Saturday morning call. Typically the invitee was still asleep, no makeup
on, hair in curlers, and still wearing pajamas. Accepting the invitation to
come for breakfast meant walking out of the door immediately. It was fun and funny to see everyone,
sleepy-eyed and fresh out of bed, in oversized T-shirts, orange juice can
rollers, and fluffy bedroom slippers. Somehow, these spur of the moment get-togethers
allowed us to see each other a little more clearly, without the weekday effort
put into keeping up, being hip, making the right impressions. In the midst of reminiscing,
I realized that reunions are very much like a “come as you are
party”—especially as we get a bit older and more comfortable with who we are,
where we have come from, and where we have landed. I became excited about
attending the reunion.</div>
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I feel confident that many of my
classmates and friends had similar reactions when they heard about the 40<sup>th</sup>.
None of us are the same people who walked the halls of ORHS, cheered the
Wildcats on crispy fall nights at Blankenship field, danced till midnight at
the Civic Center, and applauded each other across the stage the night we graduated.
We’ve married, had children, divorced, buried loved ones, survived
life-threatening illnesses, found faith, lost faith, and with each experience
we’ve changed. We all have scars, some visible, some not; but each wound, and
every life experience, has made us the people we are, the people I’m so looking
forward to seeing for the first time in many years. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Graduation on Blankenship Field</div>
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I’m grateful for the wonderful
work the planning committee has done to coordinate a weekend of gatherings. I’m
looking forward to seeing the changes made to the high school and sharing the
best pizza in the world at Big Ed’s. Most of all, I’m looking forward to the
opportunity to reunite with amazing people who shared the unique experience of
growing up in a most extraordinary place. No matter how much we’ve changed, our
shared memories of early Oak Ridge live on collectively. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Book Signing, 2013</div>
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Bob and I will be driving from
Maryland to Tennessee for the big event. I’m still excited, and yes still a
little nervous. Look out class of ‘73, here I come forty years and forty pounds
later, just as I am! Hoping you’ll be there too, none of us should miss this ultimate
“come as you are party”. Let’s roll, Wildcats!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-50915065665892836822013-08-24T16:06:00.003-07:002013-08-24T16:13:06.915-07:00"May Your Real Life Be As Perfect, Someday, As Your Life Is On Facebook"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Have you ever heard the sarcastic blessing that goes
something like this, "May your real life be as perfect, someday, as your
life is on Facebook"? I enjoy Facebook. I like looking at all the smiling
faces, people enjoying vacations and dinners with family and friends, it makes
me smile. I like celebrating new births and weddings via my different friends
on Facebook's pages and the photographs they post there. Facebook can make life
look perfect; however, most folks over 10 years old, who are breathing, know
that life isn't perfect, that every day can mean some new challenge or
difficult problem to face. Honestly, many people find turning 11 and starting
middle school tough, kids that age can be pretty cruel. Life gets more
"real" around that age , middle school might well be called the
"first level of the school of hard knocks" where we began developing
the tougher skin needed to navigate
through the twists and turns ahead of us..<o:p></o:p></div>
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I know some people feel the need to be what they call
"transparent" or "real" on Facebook. Not me, I feel like most adults know life
isn't perfect, and so I choose to take the glass is half-full attitude when
posting. For example, the other day I posted a picture of me and my oldest
granddaughter out to lunch. It was a
special one-on-one time. What I didn't post was, we were actually trying to
pass the time pleasantly until she went to have her wrist x-rayed. Just that
morning a few hours earlier, she had slipped and fallen while shopping with her
mother and re-injured the wrist she had broken last spring. Thankfully it was
just a sprain and not another broken bone, but our time together was special,
and that was the part I wanted to focus on that day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Most marriages have
ups and downs, most people suffer themselves, or have friends and family that
suffer from various illnesses (some very serious), people lose jobs, business
owners deal with the ebb and flow of fickle economies, and the list of
hardships is endless. I am thankful for friend’s posts that alert me to areas in
their lives that might be helped by prayer. Every morning I spend time praying for friends
and family who are in need of prayer for healing, for improved job situations,
for many types of difficult challenges. My prayer list only seems to grow it
never seems to get shorter. . Hard
places and difficult challenges are rarely unique to individuals and finding
others who have experienced, faced and even conquered various obstacles can be
comforting and encouraging, but if there’s a blessing in the midst of misery, I
try to focus on it. Each day has its challenges, but each day also has its joys
and blessings too. Thankfully my days are filled with the beautiful smiles of my
grandchildren, the blessing of my husband coming home each evening from work,
and sharing time together with friends and family. Even little blessings, like the hummingbirds
coming to my feeder throughout the day, bring me joy and lift my spirit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdTFEae8u0CqCzxeujD1ETRlFa99j3I_CzanwmdUmp46Yec1Bv7GozbDEy1paY5Ye61rJPs-2fTf6pj4pLPMwNXOKp6pEn1LFokTFy4bego-rbRxvSLA8AGU7qPuLyYOiNUBrmDn_rw/s1600/1002888_10201238778799082_1649905247_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdTFEae8u0CqCzxeujD1ETRlFa99j3I_CzanwmdUmp46Yec1Bv7GozbDEy1paY5Ye61rJPs-2fTf6pj4pLPMwNXOKp6pEn1LFokTFy4bego-rbRxvSLA8AGU7qPuLyYOiNUBrmDn_rw/s320/1002888_10201238778799082_1649905247_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGt7z6hqqTQqnrI0cF3eqyHzmHr0LMrEh__y8T1YTiywwTPFXWZdaZhJfHp9wSz4Sj0RhoIACXiv_xxtXJIwiHNALmJUd009t6DbSDjt59FrL0_6UI6rj_4Oux6FhC9IGwOIoJKc4eg/s1600/969641_10201238779559101_1188583250_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGt7z6hqqTQqnrI0cF3eqyHzmHr0LMrEh__y8T1YTiywwTPFXWZdaZhJfHp9wSz4Sj0RhoIACXiv_xxtXJIwiHNALmJUd009t6DbSDjt59FrL0_6UI6rj_4Oux6FhC9IGwOIoJKc4eg/s320/969641_10201238779559101_1188583250_n.jpg" width="213" /></a>In the Bible there are many instances where the Lord blesses
or delivers his people from difficult situations and in thanks they piled-stone
upon stone to create a memorial, and remember and commemorate his grace and
mercy in their lives. I feel like my Facebook posts are kind of like those
stones, they commemorate the blessings and the grace and the goodness that the
Lord bestows on me daily. So when I make my posts, I realize my friends and my family know my life
isn't perfect, but I do have a lot to be thankful for. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the future when
you see my posts on Facebook, I hope you'll think of them as, “stones”. When I
see your posts on Facebook I'm going to ooh and aw over your pile of blessings
as well. Besides, lifting all those "stones" will keep our attitudes
in great shape during the ups AND downs of life!!! Happy hefting (er, posting)
see you on Facebook.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Just a little postscript: My oldest grand daughter, Taylor, is starting middle school this year, feel free to lift her up as she begins this new chapter in her life, she's a wonderful kid, I'm praying it will be an awesome time for her.</i></div>
Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-44717369045611059232013-06-09T20:14:00.000-07:002013-06-09T20:14:14.928-07:00A Band Aid and A Kiss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSvmkG5lz-Vdj4wNIg1sAgi-1_AzWbX_08jgEMPuAnhqpUAmYHx9-yiPb-09AdRnB6wwx42EUyXJj2lpKnlMT9QG9zyWEOgiGRXgzwkqgs6ux50CtDCNtQd27veona8x0g2Kms5Sv_A/s1600/IMG_2094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSvmkG5lz-Vdj4wNIg1sAgi-1_AzWbX_08jgEMPuAnhqpUAmYHx9-yiPb-09AdRnB6wwx42EUyXJj2lpKnlMT9QG9zyWEOgiGRXgzwkqgs6ux50CtDCNtQd27veona8x0g2Kms5Sv_A/s320/IMG_2094.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Stepping into my daughter’s kitchen the other day I was
greeted by my little two year old granddaughter. Aubree rushed to hug me and
then stooped to touch her leg and show me the “boo boo” she had gotten at play
group the day before. With a hug and a kiss she was happily on her way. I stood there watching her skip down the hall
and thought how nice were the days when a band aid and a kiss could make things
“all better”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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These days a band aid and a kiss won’t make the kinds of
problems my friends and family are dealing with “all better”. I have friends who’s hearts are breaking for
their children who have made poor choices, friends who have lost parents and
spouses and said good bye to friends young and old, friends whose bodies have
betrayed them and left them living in constant pain or with life-threatening
illnesses. I want to “fix” the hurts and
make the pain go away, and there lies the problem . . . I can’t!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I hate to admit defeat, but the truth of the matter is some
hurts, only time, the natural healing processes and God can make better. As I watched Aubree the other day, I suddenly
realized that a band aid and a kiss wouldn't heal the cut or scrape under the
bandage, but it somehow made it, for that moment <b>feel</b> better. In that instant
a tremendous burden was lifted and instead of thinking of ways to heal or fix
life’s big boo boo’s for my friends, I started to inventory my “first-aid kit”<b> </b>and
make sure it was stocked with plenty of band aids.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes a literal hug and kiss can give a moment of calm
and relief. I am a hugger. I have often
been blessed and comforted in the arms of those who love me; gentle touch is
certainly a healing balm. A card, a
small gift, a sweet smelling bouquet, a phone call, text, or note, all can give
a moment of peace and even joy in the midst of a storm. The good thing is, when the ultimate healing
takes place, it might be these sweet bandages that will be remembered along the
painful road to resolution or wellness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The truth is, I’m still a “fixer”. If I can step in and make it “all better”
then that’s what I want to do, but I’m glad I've reached the point where I
realize these are still nice days when a “band aid and a kiss” can make those
things I can’t “fix”, at least for the moment, <b>feel </b>a little better”. So dear friends, I’m off to check my "band aid" supply . . .kisses to
all!<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-39523801626762141662013-05-07T09:08:00.000-07:002013-05-07T09:19:06.120-07:00Advice to a New Generation of Mothers<h3>
<i style="color: #003399; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">"Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words." Elizabeth Barrett Browning</i></h3>
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As I write, my fifth granddaughter, Lucy, is asleep in her
crib in the room next to mine. Over the river and through the woods, my sixth
granddaughter, Livie, is probably having sweet dreams in her crib. Their moms
are busy every waking hour, just as I was with my little ones; but times have
certainly changed since mine were babies.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6oUNSa9HP2R0pwC27NtErajcGw57nJK952m_eVuUiICjKer2D34eVE0sa-6mFfTXDYVNt6tjTuK7GNQISCIaEVQ6vxmMmSup7IICiJUu3camCcBkmHvEygE2Be8mLuv9IvsFv2oCDw/s1600/IMG_0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6oUNSa9HP2R0pwC27NtErajcGw57nJK952m_eVuUiICjKer2D34eVE0sa-6mFfTXDYVNt6tjTuK7GNQISCIaEVQ6vxmMmSup7IICiJUu3camCcBkmHvEygE2Be8mLuv9IvsFv2oCDw/s200/IMG_0015.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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With shelves full of books on birthing, bottling, bathing,
bathroom training, and everything in between, I’m concerned that today’s
mothers are suffering from information overload. When you throw the internet,
with its blogs, boards and informative websites, into the mix, it’s mind
boggling. Sadly, the “how to’s” seem to have become the “have to’s”. Because my
daughters are having babies, I also am blessed to know and love their friends
who are also raising little ones. Some of what I see and hear is troubling.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With our two littlest grandbabies less than 4 months old,
sleep is still a big issue. One of our daughters has very successfully used a
popular sleep training book with wonderful results. Our other daughter has been
trying the book’s system as well, but struggles during the part of the training
that requires letting the baby cry for a short time. I have watched as she sits
unhappily watching the baby cry, baby monitor in one hand and timer in the
other. “I hate this,” she said to me half way through the training the other
day. She looked miserable. That night the sleep training was a disaster for
both baby and mother. The next morning my daughter and I talked. “Your sister’s
babies are extraordinary sleepers,” I said. “Maybe the book suggestions worked
on that front, maybe they are just naturally good sleepers.” She nodded. “Your
mothering instincts are really, really good,” I told her. “What do you FEEL
like YOU want to do when it’s time for the baby to nap or go down at night?” We
had a great talk, she is developing her own system based on her feelings and
instincts and the personality and needs of her little one. The baby is sleeping
better, daytime and night time, and both of them seem happier. Mommy’s
instincts win again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsByD0-2Q7ZLO6Is_0DKUJwPb70BMFOaU8KQFVSZYnAacp324pzUIl1JA34Q5rrfKgc2krsB0j5-vyqotUdPk0fA_Zd2AsQTRUsDlfPz1GW7EHX_8cOkpUsQUwPTlcGzR9ObX7FIpu5A/s1600/IMG_7924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsByD0-2Q7ZLO6Is_0DKUJwPb70BMFOaU8KQFVSZYnAacp324pzUIl1JA34Q5rrfKgc2krsB0j5-vyqotUdPk0fA_Zd2AsQTRUsDlfPz1GW7EHX_8cOkpUsQUwPTlcGzR9ObX7FIpu5A/s200/IMG_7924.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mmrFOtTuiID6FoR1S50J3W9pqxHcUzvRKHa-byXdWHdOjAHagSepIW02Wo_pdg2qbqy9Vq1CftDVK-xm2Qn_AJhTs2lCeDyd3kYT3lahbI2sEeNYlnCZQ9Vpk_l-yqFYisrzugcrsQ/s1600/IMG_0850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mmrFOtTuiID6FoR1S50J3W9pqxHcUzvRKHa-byXdWHdOjAHagSepIW02Wo_pdg2qbqy9Vq1CftDVK-xm2Qn_AJhTs2lCeDyd3kYT3lahbI2sEeNYlnCZQ9Vpk_l-yqFYisrzugcrsQ/s200/IMG_0850.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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For thousands of years, prior to the printing press, and of
course more recently the internet, mothers had to rely on their instincts and
the advice of other, experienced mothers. Amazingly, millions of babies
survived under very harsh circumstances and even thrived. I’m concerned that
today’s mothers are so worried about doing things by the book (literally), that
they have laid aside their God-given, mothering instincts and turned to
anxiety-producing procedures and practices of others. I want to shout to this
new generation of mothers: “The answers can be found inside of themselves!” Mothers
naturally want what’s best for their babies—at least most mothers, most of the
time. As I’ve told my daughters, if you are doing it in love and it’s not
hurting the baby, it’s okay. Trust yourself, your feelings and instincts, and
your baby will thrive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuhszzA8FAxybTIswqapFElUyxwjrCoquGwDncMQiNYDjpB6r34HWDyy4peS-_0l8PNIexKUrXm9l76KDjaewlSQWhi_tEO3bxOG_Jp3CLEWc6X4MAAKcLSATiurP7SfHUpgkf-LCsg/s1600/IMG_8574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuhszzA8FAxybTIswqapFElUyxwjrCoquGwDncMQiNYDjpB6r34HWDyy4peS-_0l8PNIexKUrXm9l76KDjaewlSQWhi_tEO3bxOG_Jp3CLEWc6X4MAAKcLSATiurP7SfHUpgkf-LCsg/s200/IMG_8574.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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I’m so proud of all three of my daughters and the way they
love and care for their children. And I have many nieces who are also doing a
great job raising the next generation. With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I want
to applaud them all. I want to give a standing ovation to all the young mothers
I am blessed to know. Now, turn off this device, close the books. Go hold your
baby and make silly, funny faces, use ridiculous baby talk, and hug them
tightly. Before you know it, they’ll be sleeping through the night, using the
potty by themselves, and making YOU breakfast!!!!! Oh, and pick one practical,
baby reference book, the rest can go to your local used book store. You’ve got
this mothering thing covered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Note: Babies and their wonderful moms top to bottom: Daughter Jean and Lucy, Daughter Steph and Livie, Daughter Ellie and Taylor, Niece Evelyn and Zach, Niece Christy and Desmond, and Niece Caroline and Gavin.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-44698594917136128562013-04-14T20:06:00.000-07:002013-04-14T20:12:50.701-07:00Knitting Lessons<br />
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“Sometimes, people come up to me when I am knitting and they
say things like, "Oh, I wish I could knit, but I'm just not the kind of
person who can sit and waste time like that." How can knitting be wasting
time? First, I never just knit; I knit and think, knit and listen, knit and
watch. Second, you aren't wasting time if you get a useful or beautiful object
at the end of it.<i>I will remember that not everyone understands. I will
resist the urge to ask others what they do when they watch TV.</i>” ― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/29391.Stephanie_Pearl_McPhee">Stephanie
Pearl-McPhee</a>, <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/120217">At
Knit's End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much</a></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Having
new babies in the family has given me lots of opportunities to knit some little
sweaters and hats and crochet some blankets.
I love to knit; it’s one of the things I do to relax. However, my latest little creation became a
study in patience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq94RFKxXyu0PoDYy_xkpnNBIqIEEbvU7PdNnD_PWiB9YVogwAGT-UEbcDB_Jky0M47Ju6I0Aa1jh_pLfv3Iv-q-EjJhl1egoVY_gpDY5Isbyt0joQ4K58hklH1002cjNylIpx1Sbmhg/s1600/IMG_0952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq94RFKxXyu0PoDYy_xkpnNBIqIEEbvU7PdNnD_PWiB9YVogwAGT-UEbcDB_Jky0M47Ju6I0Aa1jh_pLfv3Iv-q-EjJhl1egoVY_gpDY5Isbyt0joQ4K58hklH1002cjNylIpx1Sbmhg/s320/IMG_0952.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I have
found a really neat yarn. The creator of
this yarn has dyed it in such a way that when knit well, faithfully following a
pattern, and keeping the stitching even, this yarn will create a lovely pattern
without any effort. I love it, it really
looks pretty, and to be honest impressive, despite the fact that it’s just the
way it was planned and dyed that makes the outcome so wonderful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
started a little sweater for my granddaughter Lucy about a week ago using this
special yarn. It was the first time I used this yarn on a project bigger than a
hat, and I was pretty excited to see how it would work out. The back of the sweater went perfectly, I
checked the pattern I was working from faithfully and I paid close attention to
what I was supposed to be doing. Next I
began the sleeves and front of the sweater.
I was feeling pretty comfortable with the directions, enough so I
decided to watch some television and knit at the same time. Sleeve one and side one went perfectly!!!! I
loved it, and now I was about three-fourths of the way done, coming down the
homestretch. Sadly, I began to check the
directions less frequently and watch the television a bit more, I was
distracted. Before I knew it, I had
bound off the wrong side of the sleeve! To say I was unhappy would be an
understatement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Slowly I
backtracked through the error. I picked
up stitches and gently slid them back on the needle. So much work had already gone into the
sweater but even so, I felt like throwing the whole thing away. It was a lot of work trying to get the
stitches back on in the right order and turned the correct direction, to be
honest I did my best, but the sweater now had a big mistake, stitches that didn't lay flat anymore, right on the front. I
decided to continue knitting and deal with the area that had the flaw
later. I was very careful to keep my
mind and focus on the task at hand, and to not give up. Finally, I came to the
last row, bound the stitches off, sewed the seams together and looked at the
little sweater now lying in front of me.
No matter where I looked, my eyes continued to be drawn to the big flaw
on the right, front panel of the sweater.
Except for that one flaw, the sweater was practically perfect. I was disappointed and frustrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As I sat
there staring at the flaw on the sweater front, it occurred to me that if I
could cover that area with something cute, or pretty, the sweater would look
great and all the work that had gone in to it would not be wasted. I pulled out my crochet hook, whipped up a
floppy flower with some of the remaining yarn, and used a big, color
coordinated button for the flower center.
Voila, the flaw was corrected, it was gone, and the flower gave the sweater a
whimsical, fun kind of look. I liked
it!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Later,
as I looked at Lucy modeling her new threads, I thought about how that sweater
is kind of like my life. The creator of
my life has made me in such a way that if I keep focused on his pattern and
directions, my life will go smoother, and the finished product will be pleasing
and useful. But, there are times, like
when knitting the sweater, I haven’t stayed focused, haven’t exercised my
faith, and sadly, it’s left some glaring flaws and not so pleasing areas on my
life canvas. But as I looked at Lucy, smiling and bouncing around with that big
bloom on her sweater, I realized, just like me and my flawed sweater, the Lord, hasn't give up on me, or discarded me, and just like I covered those crooked, bumpy
stitches with a big, floppy, cute flower, He has covered my flaws with
beautiful blooms of compassion, forgiveness, grace, mercy and love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I am so
happy I didn't have to pull that sweater apart, but even more grateful for the Lord
who keeps me from unraveling every day. Hoping
the finished product of my life will one day bless the one who created and continues to
guide it, and so thankful He has an endless supply of beautiful blooms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-90206080240028467582013-04-02T21:20:00.000-07:002013-04-02T21:23:34.684-07:00Still Standing Strong<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">"The daffodil is our doorside queen, She pushes upward the sword already, To spot with sunshine the early green."</span></div>
William Cullen Bryant<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3BU_Z2boK4BMI6MANBqeItG66-Td_-BYUhyphenhypheneKN4Jos7z49fWR2fnV_EqwKeh1QgpuYHzIp6yyiIiw5HZIk8FpUXvJWlkrHMOtlepf4sHJTNYBTLB6HlwoJJnsiwFnqrhrz-v3Ywbszw/s1600/IMG_0636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3BU_Z2boK4BMI6MANBqeItG66-Td_-BYUhyphenhypheneKN4Jos7z49fWR2fnV_EqwKeh1QgpuYHzIp6yyiIiw5HZIk8FpUXvJWlkrHMOtlepf4sHJTNYBTLB6HlwoJJnsiwFnqrhrz-v3Ywbszw/s320/IMG_0636.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A week
ago it snowed. Not unusual, it snows in
Maryland almost every winter, except this time it wasn’t winter, spring had
sprung. The daffodils were out in full
bloom, the promise of warmer weather was in the air, and then a cold front hit
the DC area. Now, there were daffodils blooming on snow covered hills. Daffodils are hardy flowers, despite chilly
temperatures, when the snow melted and the mercury rose again, the beautiful,
golden flowers continued surviving and thriving. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Since the first of the year I
have lived life at a furious pace. Baby
Lucy arrived in January, our fifth granddaughter and first blessing of the New
Year. Once home, nights and days ran
together and even though I was one tired Grammie, I wouldn’t trade those
special middle of the night snuggles for anything.
Three weeks later, our sixth granddaughter, little Livie arrived and I
was off to join in the fun at the Willett household, so many precious moments
with Aubree and Livie, their mom and dad and Mimi who had also come from Florida
to help. I’d be lying if I didn’t say,
after almost a month of helping with new babies I was exhausted, but life
continued at a furious pace.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Bob and
I both turned a year older in January, a loved one became ill and needed
hospitalization, our oldest granddaughter broke her arm ice skating, family
birthdays were celebrated, we attended our grandchildren’s school events, I
made a guest author appearance, hosted my book club, continued to help with the
little ones, grieved the sudden death of a dear friend, and most recently had
family here for Easter dinner, there were 28 at the table that day. In other words, life raced on.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
enjoyed that snowy spring day; it gave me time to slow down, sip some tea,
think, reflect and look at daffodils blooming in the snow. Those hardy daffodils stood tall and spotted
the landscape with their surprising yellow faces, defying the late cold snow to
bring them down. As I watched the snow
falling, I felt like one of those sunny blooms.
Despite the demands (and blessings,) of the last few months I was still
standing, still enjoying the special moments and soldiering through the
difficult times. Thanks to the Lord,
through the demands of the previous weeks, I found out I was pretty hardy too. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Things seem to be settling into a
more normal routine finally. I think I’m
even starting to catch up on my rest.
Hoping soon to welcome warmer temps and cherry blossoms, but for now the
daffodils (and me) are still standing strong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-75549334570700417712013-01-12T09:24:00.000-08:002013-01-12T09:24:12.751-08:00I've Never Been Good At Waiting<br />
"For you created my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know them full well."<br />
<i>Psalm 139:13-14.</i><br />
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<i> </i><br />
I’ve never been very good at waiting. I like my life to move at a pretty fast pace. I love projects that can be completed quickly, and I like moving on to something new as soon as possible. But some things, I’ve come to realize, just can’t be rushed. Babies are one of those things. <br />
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Since last spring I have watched as two of my daughters have transformed from slender and lean to round and full. Their moves have gone from fleet and flowing, to heavier and slower. Things that were effortless now require more energy, and some things are just not worth the effort. Their bellies have grown week by week and now, there’s no denying, those tiny lives within are close to making an appearance, but . . . we wait. I’ve never been very good at waiting.<br />
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Somehow, it’s almost harder watching my babies have babies than it was to give birth myself. I have wanted to share the burden with each of them, to ease their discomfort, to share their pain. I’ve always wanted to lighten their loads since the moment I birthed them. Recently, I have slipped into sleep each night praying they would find rest despite numerous trips to the bathroom and the need to awaken just to turn from one side to the other. The time for their deliveries is fast approaching, and I know that it is hard to watch my children labor for theirs, to wait with them through those final hours; I’ve already been by the bedside to see four of my granddaughters born. I’ve never been very good at waiting.<br />
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So much has changed since I had my babies thirty years ago. The nurseries are high tech now, wipe warmers, video monitors, and gadgets to track diaper changes and nap times have replaced, cool wipes, peeking in the door and over the crib rails, and pencil and paper. It’s astonishing! As wonderful as all the new conveniences are, happily the important things remain the same. Expectant mothers still wash fold and fill drawers with tiny shirts and socks and gowns and marvel that the baby will be small enough to fit them. Diaper pails still stand at the ready (better, less stinky ones). Tiny tubs, bottles of shampoo and lotion, and fluffy towels are prepared and waiting for bath time, but most importantly the hopes and dreams and longing to hold the life within are still the same. The slowing of time as the end grows near and the waiting for the contractions, the steady waves that will bear them out from their mother’s seas still remains, it’s the same. I’ve never been very good at waiting.<br />
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<i> Photo by Ellie Bjerkaas</i><br />
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Thankfully, with babies, the waiting is worth it all. Amazingly, these little ones arrive just on time, no surprise to the Creator, who after all, according to scripture, knit them in their mother’s wombs, formed them, and already knows everyone of their days. My three were so worth the wait as were the beautiful babies they have already birthed. The counting down has definitely begun. I start each day wondering if this will be a special little someone’s birthday. Thankfully, before long we will meet these, new little people, and not surprisingly, I have to say . . . I just can’t wait!<br />
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-33802603178663061772012-12-09T21:43:00.000-08:002012-12-09T21:43:31.815-08:00Finding Christmas Joy<br />
I peel back the backing on the first of three electrodes and place it three fingers down from my collar bone. For many years I’ve been checked for missed heart beats, but recently they have become more frequent and have lasted longer, so now the changing of electrodes every other day for 30 days has become my new normal. There’s no denying that a few of the episodes lately have frightened me. The pounding, skipping, and erratic heart beat a few weeks back hurried me to my cardiologist and now, here I am with a heart monitor for the entire Christmas season.<br />
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I like to finish all my Christmas preparations early so that I can truly focus on my personal walk toward the manger each year. This year has been no exception, barely a week into the month and the tree is up and decorated, the halls are decked, presents are mostly wrapped, stockings grace the mantle, and the cards and Christmas letter are signed, tucked into envelopes and ready to be dropped in the mailbox. Prepared, but not peaceful, ready but not restful, every missed beat causing me anxiety and sadly robbing me of some of the joy I normally feel this time of the year.<br />
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It’s hard to admit my faith is that shallow sometimes. I’ve tried to focus on the Lord, to trust Him for every day He gives me and to not let my anxiety rule my head, or my heart in any sense of the word. The truth is every skipped beat reminds me that I’m not immortal physically, that one day I have to say goodbye to loved ones and to the life that I know and find so comfortable in its familiarity. That’s especially difficult to think about this beautiful time of the year, so filled with family and friends. Happily, rest and some increase in medication will probably go a long way to making my ticker a bit more stable. But, in the meantime I’m hoping to find that missing joy.<br />
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It is hard to make changes, to leave the familiar for the unfamiliar, to relinquish comfort and peace for hardship and sacrifice, but isn’t that what God’s Son did on that starry night over 2000 years ago. I can’t imagine leaving the beauty and magnificence of paradise for this broken and torn world, and yet that is what we celebrate this time of year, the birth of a Savoir who left the throne room of heaven for a straw lined manger in Bethlehem. Thankfully that reality has done more to change my thumping heart than any other.<br />
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So many people are dealing with difficult challenges, losses, and other hardships, so I hope we can join hands, calm our hearts (even those missing a few beats here and there), and follow the star to the Savior this special season. That’s where the missing joy can be found and it’s what I’m wishing for all of my precious family and friends this Christmas. Hoping there will be peace on earth and in your heart and mine . . . do you think that will show up in my cardio output! I hope so.<br />
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<br />Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-8561158364204173022012-10-31T19:02:00.000-07:002012-11-01T03:32:29.590-07:00Packing up the Memories<br />
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I looked around the empty rooms. The built in shelves emptied of books, shadows dancing on newly exposed hardwood floors, our voices echoing under the high ceilings, I’d never seen this house empty. Packers and movers had filled and moved box after box the last three days. We had rolled up the rugs and taken the trash to the transfer station, and now it was time to turn the key in the door for the last time. How could this tiny house hold so many memories?<br />
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I needed to take one last look around. I leaned into the kitchen. It looked so big without the table and chairs, but the “brick” flooring; red checkered wall paper and curtained windows still looked cheery in the afternoon sunshine. Closing my eyes I could see my grandmother by the stove, stirring the big pot of chili she always had waiting when we arrived for our visits. Beyond the kitchen I knew there would be pies and other goodies on the enclosed back porch. In later years my Uncle’s tea pot collection had graced the area beneath the window. Best of all, with my eyes still shut, I could almost hear the chatter around the table nights as we “little” ones lay in the front room going to sleep. That’s how we learned all about our family history and the amazing history of the small Indiana town where my parents had met and married, where my grandparents had set up house, where I had visited every year of my life.<br />
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Taking a step back into the main room of the house I glanced over to where the piano had been until just a few hours before. That piano, with my Uncle at the keyboard filled that little house with music for as long as I could remember. I had even tickled those keys from time to time. My eye’s moved to the empty bookshelves, we are a family of avid readers, I think it’s in our genes, summers I had pulled books off those shelves to enjoy during some of the time we spent visiting my grandmother. She had worked for Donnelly’s publishing company, and so the shelves’ contents flowed into other areas and rooms over the years. I sent up a little prayer that the future occupants would refill those shelves with new tomes. <br />
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The sun splashed across the front room as I peeked through the doorway. This room had transformed many times over the years, primarily a bedroom when I was younger it had become a living room once my Uncle had moved in. I could see the rose bush covered in pink blossoms outside the front windows, late for summer roses, but flourishing none the less.<br />
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I didn't walk into the bedroom, my grandmother had taken her long braid down in there every night, my Uncle and Aunt had been born in that room. I thought I’d seen enough, I could tell it was time to close the front door, turn the key and finally walk away. I didn't make it to the door before my eyes blurred and filled. Bob wrapped me in a big hug. He didn't try and stop the flow, tears slipped silently down my cheeks and onto the floor. So, I left those tear drops on the hardwood, turned the old doorknob, and put the key into the lock, I wasn't just closing the door, I was closing an era. <br />
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I stood on the front porch and looked at the big tree just beyond the railing; I had played under that tree many times. Memories of running off the porch and to the end of the lot to wave to the engineers, who blew the train whistle as they clickity clacked down the tracks behind the house, made me smile. Despite the late fall weather some branches still held their yellow leaves, and they whispered goodbye as the wind blew through them and rustled the golden blanket surrounding the trunk. Walking to the car a big brown squirrel chattered down at me, I felt like he was letting me know he’d be around to watch over things. We pulled off the lot one last time and drove past the street sign on the corner, I watched the house grow smaller and vanish. I knew at that moment that I’d never really leave 710 Tuttle Avenue behind, I had packed up and taken all the wonderful memories with me, and they were safe in my heart.<br />
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<br />Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-55870333676566122412012-10-21T17:45:00.000-07:002012-10-21T17:46:55.753-07:00Time to Reboot!<br />
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<i>Sign I fell in love with on the wall of the crab shore at the beach.</i><br />
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I love computers when they work and work well. However, when they don’t I become easily frustrated, irritated, frazzled, and want to give them the boot, so that’s what I usually do . . . reboot! Lately I've felt a lot like a computer that’s not working, and because of that I have become frustrated, irritated, and frazzled. My mind is slow, my recall is poor, I’m on overload and wish <i>I</i> had a reboot button.<br />
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Sadly I stop functioning well when I go into overdrive. My days have been really full recently, full of events, good and bad, that have come one on top of another, fast and furious. There is no end in sight, it’s called life, and I am trying figure out how to reboot and reload and keep abreast of it all.<br />
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<i>Me, leaning on a firm foundation :)</i><br />
Several things have helped me regain my grip. First of all I realized I wasn't spending much time in prayer or the Bible. For someone whose faith is central, that quickly takes a toll. Quiet time conversing with the Lord, reading His Word and lifting cares, concerns, and loved ones up to Him quickly lightens my daily load. It’s nice to remember I’m not alone in shouldering all that life brings to bear each day. Verses like Psalm 62:1, “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” , encourage me. Scripture may not mean much to a non-believer, but to me, it is a great comfort and starts my day with a promise of rest and strength for all the hours ahead of me. I’m a great advocate of meditation, it’s like hitting the “refresh” button.<br />
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<i>Me and Bob at the beach</i><br />
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Another thing that helped me get back on top of my game was some self-pampering. A trip to the beach with my honey and some close friends, listening to waves and sea gulls, talking, laughing, eating, resting, and breaking my normal routine turned out to be the ultimate “reboot”. I’m not one for running away from problems and concerns, but I am for shelving them temporarily when the load gets particularly heavy. The unexpected death of my brother-in-law was the straw that broke the camel’s back; I could hardly wait to feel the sand beneath my feet. My energy level rose each day at the beach and I returned home renewed. I highly recommend mini, restorative retreats.<br />
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Finally, to keep things from heating up, I’m trying to slow down and take things a day at a time and not look too far ahead. Just like my computer needs to be turned off to cool down from time to time, I’m learning to turn my brain off from time to time, letting it cool down and reload. Sometimes just throwing a load of laundry in so I can check something quick off the “to do” list, gives me a lift. Other times, I need something more substantial, like quality time with my kids, grand kids husband or friends to refill my tank, I’m an extrovert and people are my pepper uppers.<br />
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<i>Me and Aubree at the petting farm</i><br />
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<i>Me and my grand daughter Katie</i><br />
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The world is not going to stop turning, life is not going to slow down. Every moment is important, I definitely need to hit the “save” button from time to time so I won’t forget any memories or waste any time, but for now, rebooting was most important, and I’m back online. <br />
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<i>Me and my dear Australian friend, Chris</i>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-40198487071898743112012-09-08T10:57:00.001-07:002012-10-21T18:24:05.352-07:00"Fragile" Handle with Care<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>“Snowflakes are one of nature's most fragile things, but just look at what they can do when they stick together.”</b><br />
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Yesterday, for the first time ever, I raised my right hand, took an oath and then took the witness stand. I was in court to testify as a collaborative witness for a friend who had finally reached the end of a long journey, the termination of her marriage. I sat there looking around the courtroom. This was not a happy day for me, and I felt uncomfortable watching the scene unfold. Tension was high, and it was a relief to have this part of the process over when we exited the courtroom. I knew her life going forward would be better, but this experience reminded me of how very fragile life and its parts are. <br />
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Two days ago I attended the funeral of a remarkable woman, a friend from church. She fought a three year battle with cancer that inspired everyone whose path she crossed. She was witty, compassionate, courageous, strong and brave, but life is fragile and her passing was yet another reminder that this life is fleeting and we only have the guarantee of this moment. That’s a hard lesson for her daughters and three precious granddaughters to learn at their young ages.<br />
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For several years I have prayed for two little boys, from two different families who are battling Leukemia. Their lives should be full of soccer practices, birthday parties with school mates, making big splashes in pools, and silly faces in mirrors, but instead they spend hours hooked to monitors with tubes pushing healing drugs into their little bodies. Their day to day health is very fragile, their parents never know when they will need to grab the overnight bags that stand ready by the door and head to the hospital for emergency treatments. <br />
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These reminders can be painful and sometimes frightening. It’s hard to watch a marriage crumble or be reminded of how fragile life is for young and old. Thankfully, I don’t face these hard places by myself. My faith, my family and my friends are there to lift me up and remind me that I am never alone in this precarious journey called life. I am also so thankful that the pendulum usually swings both ways, and for every sorrow there seems to be a blessing.<br />
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Last weekend my great nephew was baptized. It was such a special moment as his father’s father took this precious little boy into his arms, and gently sprinkled his tiny head, a grandfather and a pastor, committing his grandson to the Lord. I was also filled with the joy of new life as I watched my fifth granddaughter’s little heart beating on the sonogram monitor, safe in her mother’s womb a few days ago. We had sent a precious saint homeward this week, but new life was also abounding.<br />
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The day in the courtroom was difficult, but today Bob and I will attend a wonderful celebration of marriage, the 60th anniversary of a very special couple. Despite the fact that some couples won’t survive the sometimes bumpy road of marriage in this fallen world, there are others who are inspirational in their devotion, commitment and love.<br />
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Many years ago, I stitched a sampler that said, “Life is fragile, handle with prayer.” It’s simple, I know, but its truth has seen me through some hard swings of life’s pendulum. Today, I will celebrate this special anniversary with my sweet friends and embrace these happy moments. In the future, I will hold fast to my faith, family and friends when life sends challenges, because in realty, it’s me, not life, that’s breakable, and without a UPS box and packaging, stamped “fragile”, I know it’s that firm foundation that’s going to get me safely to my final destination. Praying all my family and friends will handle and be handled with care and prayer, because your fragile selves are precious to me.<br />
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Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-5216819978157361502012-08-12T10:53:00.003-07:002012-09-08T20:19:27.973-07:00The Butterfly Theory<br />
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"Love is like a butterfly: It goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes."</div>
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Things have been exciting at our house lately; we have two new grandchildren on the way in the coming year. We have also recently welcomed two, adorable great nephews into the clan. All these new little lives are a blessing, and yet sometimes I worry about all that they will face in the future. I have been thinking a lot about how their parents will need to prepare them and raise them for this time. One thing I know, the next generation is going to have to be strong, strong in mind, in heart and in spirit.<br />
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In many ways, I think equipping today’s children for life will be a bit like preparing an army for battle. These little ones will need to know about all the enemies that will try and destroy them and use them for their own gain. They will have to work harder than some in the past to uncover truth, real truth, not the “truth” the media and others will try to force feed them. They will have to protect their hearts and spirits from those who reject their beliefs and seek to undermine their faith and moral fiber, while professing tolerance. They will need to train for might so that they can protect those who are even more vulnerable. Perhaps most difficult, they will need to fight their battles with love, patience, caring, and integrity, and that takes a lot of discipline and strength. It’s a daunting task, but not impossible.<br />
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This morning I heard a devotional about the “butterfly theory”<br />
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en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect<br />
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Which in very basic terms means that even a butterfly’s fluttering wings eventually move the air and molecules in another part of the world. In other words, EVERYTHING that we do affects something or someone else. I was reminded that all that I do can change the world for good or bad and affect others positively or negatively. It is sobering to think that one way or another, everyone my grandchildren and others in the next generation come into contact with(or even those they don’t) ,can change the course of their little lives. I realize I can’t control what others do, but I can control what I do, to a certain extent. I can speak kindly, hold firm to my faith and beliefs even when it’s not popular and do it kindly. I can continue to love those I don’t always agree with, I can keep my words and dialogue civil even in debate and disagreement. I know that I fail sometimes, but in other words, when I flutter my wings I hope they eventually move the world around me in the right direction. And, that my grandchildren benefit from that example.<br />
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I am also praying that those I know will embrace the high road. . .flutter kindly my friends. . .move the world in a positive direction. . . you too are responsible for the way the next generation (including my little ones) world's unfold, and I’m counting on you.<br />
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<br />Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-15140152851435511962012-07-24T12:11:00.000-07:002012-07-24T12:17:18.099-07:00Laugh Lines<br />
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"If wrinkles must be written on our brows, let them not be written upon the heart. The spirit should never grow old." James A. Garfield<br />
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Nora’s soft little finger ran across the skin under my eye.<br />
“What are all those lines and bumps around your eye, Grammie?” she asked.<br />
I laughed,<br />
“Those are wrinkles, Nora.”<br />
“Ummm,” she responded. “Why do you have them?”<br />
I decided to go with the short answer.<br />
“Well, Grammie is getting older, and when you get older you usually get wrinkles.”<br />
That answer was enough for my little granddaughter. She hopped off my lap and skipped off to play with her sisters.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsH-w82hZ39zmRS2Xq3mtv3eGjN0UJQgAUvmvvb27ADn_DUzWmn_qlkRWeVxIWt-L-pYV69pRu3CtPqVwfzt_5vTnMbd24cs3-a86sUNwkdupij6BqrWIG0ItIpmJaJgQGaame4aNbXw/s1600/IMG_5733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsH-w82hZ39zmRS2Xq3mtv3eGjN0UJQgAUvmvvb27ADn_DUzWmn_qlkRWeVxIWt-L-pYV69pRu3CtPqVwfzt_5vTnMbd24cs3-a86sUNwkdupij6BqrWIG0ItIpmJaJgQGaame4aNbXw/s320/IMG_5733.jpg" width="320" /></a>Later that day, while washing my face before bed I glanced at the mirror. Who was that woman gazing back at me? She looked familiar, like an older version of the woman staring into the mirror, the one whose body I lived in. I moved closer to the mirror to have a better look. Wow, when had all those wrinkles and lines and bumps and puffy areas appeared? I used my fingers to smooth out the skin around my peepers, yup, that was better. I could definitely see why some people decided to have a little “work” done on their faces as they aged, but that just isn’t my style. I released the skin and the wrinkles settled back in like old friends, looking like they had lived there at the sides of my eyes forever. No wonder Nora had asked about the bumps and lines. I rummaged through my makeup basket and pulled out the night cream. Lot of good this is doing, I thought, I was ready to go big guns, wage all-out war against these invaders, and all I had was what was left of the white goo in the bottom of the green jar in the palm of my hand. I finished at the sink and slipped into bed. Maybe war wasn’t the answer.<br />
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I stared into the darkness, I remembered saying to Nora, “Well, Grammie is getting older, and when you get older you usually get wrinkles.” It hadn’t bothered me at the moment, but here in the dark, with Bob already snoozing next to me, I realized I really didn’t like the sound of those words. Being a breast cancer survivor, I am thankful for every day God gives me, and yet, I just wasn’t prepared for aging. I started thinking about how the lines and creases had etched their way into my face. Lots of smiling I was sure had caused the lines at the corners, I have lots to smile about. Fun family times, laughing till I cry with friends and my sisters, weddings, baptisms, new grandbabies, yes, lots of smiling had probably caused those lines. Some sobering moments and sad moments were likely the reason for some of the puffiness and tired look under my eyes, things like, losing parents, fighting illnesses, worries about the state of the world and the future my children and grandchildren would be facing. In the dark I realized the lines and wrinkles and furrows were part of a story, the story of my life. <br />
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Thankfully I fell asleep deciding it would not be necessary to take up arms against the uninvited signs of aging I had glared at in the mirror that evening. I decided to embrace them instead. Don’t get me wrong, I still use my night cream before settling in for the night, but next time one of my little ones notices some new lines or creases on Grammie’s face and wonders why they’re there, I’m just going to say, “honey, those are part of my story!” I’m just not prepared to age, I’ll deal with that when I’m old-- and who knows when that will be.<br />
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<br /></div>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-43561165979640161672012-07-03T16:05:00.001-07:002012-07-03T16:05:09.960-07:00Derecho = Terror<br />
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I don’t think I’m what you would call the “adventurous” type. I do like to try new things and experience new places, I like to meet new people and become acquainted with new cultures, and I love learning about all kinds of things. This week, I learned something new firsthand: I learned what a Derecho is. According to Wikipedia, a Derecho is, “a widespread and long-lived straight-line windstorm that is associated with a fast-moving band of severe thunderstorms. Derechos are generally convection-induced and take on a bow echo form of squall line. They travel in the direction of movement of their associated storms, similar to an outflow boundary (gust front), except that the wind is sustained and generally increases in strength behind the front. A warm-weather phenomenon, derechos occur mostly in summer, especially June and July in the Northern Hemisphere. They can occur at any time of the year and occur as frequently at night as in the daylight hours.” My definition of a Derecho is somewhat different. My definition is “sheer terror”.<br />
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On Friday evening, June 29th, 2012, I became an adventurer against my will. Having spent a great evening with Bob watching our beautiful granddaughter Aubree, we headed home in separate cars. Storms were predicted, but all was calm and dry as we started out. Within 10 miles of home things changed, suddenly and furiously. With no warning, my car was slammed into the adjacent lane as 70 mile an hour winds and blinding rain arrived like a high speed train from my left. Branches and highway barrels bounced around the freeway, narrowly missing those of us frantically trying to stay in our lanes and find safety under underpasses. The underpass where we sheltered only provided minimal relief. Talking to Bob on the cell phone to plan our next move was next to impossible, as the storm was so loud we had to shout to hear one another. With tornado predictions forecast on the news station, we headed back on the road, determined to reach home and safe shelter. Trees and large limbs littered the six-lane freeway, and the wind never once abated. I thought that my heart would pound right out of my chest (I’m happy to report that it didn’t). Branches and debris banged against the bottom of my car and at one point we both had to drive under the boughs of a fallen tree that dangled precariously over the barrier wall along the highway, but finally we made it home to a powerless house. I walked into the dark kitchen, hearing the wind still howling around the house, thankful to be alive, and burst into tears.<br />
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An hour later the winds abated and residents of the D.C. metropolitan area came out of storm-battered houses to survey the damage—it was extensive. The high winds felled huge trees, several people were killed when these mighty giants blew down on their houses and cars. The phones at our roofing business have not stopped ringing since Friday. And so the cleanup begins. It will be a long process. My heart goes out to those who are still without power and dealing with the unrelenting heat that has blanketed the eastern part of the country. These are the times when neighbors are called to come to one another’s aid. Those with power can offer warm showers, cool shelter, and become phone charging and internet havens. We can all offer a cold drink to a hot postal carrier or trash collector, check on elderly neighbors who might not be handling the heat well, and help out in a million other ways. Once again the resiliency of humanity is tested, and with God’s help we will weather the storm. Stay safe my friends, and know that my future entries will be calmer as I have met my adventure quota for the year!<br />
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<br />Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-82797518884792802582012-06-25T11:38:00.002-07:002012-06-30T08:32:20.388-07:00Babylonian Dream Team<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJu1CRZbgG91L91WmfzZSwWQOVkgt7agAzubLEblYFKnv8dkjxzfpKzCuRBKh6pLSu5yiTMlHGRDEf3q7VQDFfq05dYo31jrKaVOPGECr4tisrrJBSGCHE9LavXs9MR65zzW64rw6E4w/s1600/IMG_4778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJu1CRZbgG91L91WmfzZSwWQOVkgt7agAzubLEblYFKnv8dkjxzfpKzCuRBKh6pLSu5yiTMlHGRDEf3q7VQDFfq05dYo31jrKaVOPGECr4tisrrJBSGCHE9LavXs9MR65zzW64rw6E4w/s320/IMG_4778.jpg" width="240" /></a>Recently I was asked to chair the decorating committee for our church’s annual Vacation Bible School. Saying no has never come easily for me, but this time, I was not quick in responding. My job, if I said yes, would mean transforming our ordinary fellowship hall and several cinderblock classrooms into Babylon. This has not been my best spring and early summer health wise, and I was hesitant to take on the task, but the Lord continued to nudge me toward this commitment. I’m so thankful He did, as I would have missed out on so many blessings had I not listened to His leading and said “yes”.<br />
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(Our church steeple at sunset on opening day of Babylon Bible Camp)<br />
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(Our Dir. of C M, Dawn in the green below)<br />
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First order of business was to meet with our new Director of Children’s Ministries, Dawn. Having held this position myself for four years at Atonement, I was anxious to get to know Dawn better. Children’s Ministries holds a special place in my heart as I have served on staff, full time in this capacity at two different churches. It’s a job that requires a lot of energy, a lot of creativity, flexibility, ability to work with and encourage a large volunteer staff and a million and one other gifts and talents. Dawn more than meets these criteria (thankfully God equipped me and saw me through my years on the job) and I was delighted to get to know her better. That “working” lunch was blessing number one I received as committee chair.<br />
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( Below "Daniel's House") <br />
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Having developed a plan, it was time to meet with the committee members. Interestingly, the committee ended up all women, powerhouses all of them. I was awed and amazed by their creativity, willingness to serve, self-motivation and joyful spirits as they used their gifts and talents to meet the goals of our team. Despite working full time outside of the home, Robin, with some help from her husband Mike, built and installed an amazing “city gate” to greet the participants. Jeri, who also works outside of the home, knowing my energy hasn’t been 100%, took the “shopping list” I had made and purchased everything we needed for the big transformation. Julia spent hours making beautiful stars to lead the Bible campers from the city courtyard area to the craft stalls. Marta, Debbie and Lynn, all willingly pitched in to make build day happen more smoothly and quickly. Thankfully, Mike, Chuck, Bob, and Ron lent some extra muscle and reminded me that sometimes being there at the last minute can be a crucial blessing. And that leads me to blessing two, how inspired I was by working with such a remarkable group of people, it made me want to serve more joyfully and enthusiastically when asked to help or lend a hand in the future. The work these people did was fantastic, but the attitude in which they served was outstanding.<br />
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(Below, Daniel, Luke Link, and the Palace Official, Fred Carr)<br />
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Finally, with all the decorations in place the doors were opened and the Bible Campers arrived for the first of five evenings in “Babylon”. As I walked through the “city gate” I was greeted by musicians, chefs and crafters, story tellers,shopkeepers and “tribe leaders” all in Babylonian garb (testimony to another fantastic effort by the seamstresses in the church who made over 40 costumes for the event). There were happy children making tiny hanging gardens, beading beautiful creations, singing, and listening to the story of Daniel as told by “Daniel” and the “palace official” in “Daniel’s house”. Blessing three was seeing the fruit of our labor come to life! All the hard work paid off, once again, when God called he also equipped and inspired, and what a wonderful, delightful outcome occurred.<br />
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I love the way God reminds me so often that I am always more blessed when I give, than I am a blessing. I’m so glad I said yes to being the Decorating Committee Chairperson, I loved the journey to Babylon. Hope you enjoy some of the pictures from this event. Hoping also that you are called to be blessed soon in your corner of the world, don’t be afraid to say YES!<br />
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(Our star maker, Julia and me, below)<br />
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<br /></div>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-89331855618014341242012-06-12T12:01:00.000-07:002012-06-12T12:01:45.066-07:00Finding Calm on the Porch<br />
“Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life that you don’t need to escape from.” --Seth Godin.<br />
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I recently saw this quote and loved it. What a difference it would make if everyone could create a daily retreat, time away from the stress and the frantic pace so many endure day after day. Now that summer has arrived I am enjoying more and more time on the screen porch. It’s here on the porch that I find myself letting go of the ever present worries and anxieties that weigh me down. Surrounded by trees, flowers, fresh air and lots of wildlife, I’m able to let go. So for this entry, I thought maybe I’d share some free floating thoughts and word pictures of life as seen from the porch just off my kitchen. Hoping you can kick back, close your eyes and lose yourself for just a few minutes too. I’ve snapped a few views from the porch as well . . . enjoy!<br />
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Hummingbirds flitting quickly and quietly to sip the ruby nectar in the feeder, they seem almost magical in their approach and quick retreat. Tiny wings, moving in a blur of neon green and purple. Can’t help stopping to gaze at them with each one’s visit to dip tiny beaks into the sweetness, which fills them till they next return. <br />
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Hydrangea’s, bursting with puffs of color. Pink, fuchsia, purple, and white, brightening the garden path they line.<br />
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Squirrels chasing and frolicking on the fence. Leaping from branches and performing acrobatics that make me want to applaud. One minute racing around and around the pine tree trunk, heads and tails bobbing. They are always chattering as they spend themselves in play. Then, sleeping flattened on the fence top, funny little faces resting, while tiny arms and legs hang sleepily motionless. <br />
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White impatiens gleam brightly day and evening and even in the moonlit garden. Like tiny white stars scattered among the rocks around the pond. I love to see them glowing under the stars. A night garden is so lovely.<br />
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Besides the hummingbirds, robins, doves, cardinals, sparrows, black-capped chick-a-dees, catbirds, cow birds and yellow finches provide entertainment. They love the fountain and wait in line to send the water flying as they dive and dip and bath in the cooling shower. Then they preen, sitting in the branches above the garden and as the sunsets they sing and perform duets and trios until dusk descends and all becomes very still.<br />
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The water from the fountain makes a tiny tinkling sound, gentle, soothing.<br />
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Latter in the summer the cicadas will complete the evening choruses with their humming song, high in the trees, calling to mind my childhood in Tennessee and memories of falling asleep with windows open on cool summer nights.<br />
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Finally, the fireflies begin to twinkle in the twilight and like the others work their magic. The day’s cares, the hustle and bustle of life fades and calm comes and soothes. <br />
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If you think this was a little dramatic, maybe even boring, a little over done and too poetic, I apologize. I love the respite I receive on the porch, made even better when shared with Bob. I hope that you have a gentle place full of wonderful soul soothers where you can find refreshment each day. . . and to think, summer has only just begun.<br />
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<br /></div>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-72304215341991064292012-05-26T16:28:00.000-07:002012-05-26T16:29:27.281-07:00A Memorial Day Tribute to Mom and Dad<br />
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It’s Memorial Day Weekend, and the Stars and Stripes are
flying high. Friends and family across
America are gathering around picnic tables and lighting up the grills. Kids are excitedly taking their first plunges
into chilly, early summer pool water, and then warming shivering bodies wrapped
in oversized beach towels and sunlight.
It’s time to welcome summer, time to enjoy a long weekend, and most
importantly, time to remember those who gave their lives for their country and
others who we have loved and lost.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I write this I’m thinking about my mother and
father. They both passed away in the summer, my mother
seven years ago, my father five years ago, on the same date, July 9<sup>th</sup>,
two years apart. I still miss them, I
keep pictures of them in my Bible, I like looking at their smiling faces when I
begin my morning quiet time. Today I was
remembering their hands, funny, but for some reason I started thinking about
all that those hands did for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My mom had beautiful hands and they were almost always busy. Her hands were often crocheting, holding a
book, cooking (Memorial Day weekend probably stirring homemade chocolate syrup
to have served warm over vanilla ice cream), and writing, crafting, gardening,
or serving in some way. Her hands could type 120 words per minute and take
shorthand, skills that earned her top ranking wherever she worked. Her hands comforted me when I was injured or
sick, patted me when I needed reassurance, and applauded me when I performed or
accomplished something. Her hands held
my babies and two of my grandbabies, I wish they could hold all of my
grandbabies and her other great grandchildren.
Oh how I love and miss those hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My dad had gentleman’s hands; strong, clean, long-fingered
hands. My dad was a thinker, sometimes
those hands sat quietly folded in his lap, often on a book or article while he
thought. But those hands weren’t idle
hands, they built the calorimeter he designed at Oak Ridge National Laboratory,
they wrote reports for Nuclear Regulatory Commission, they gestured when he
lectured, and like my mom’s hands they served many others. His hands steadied me as I learned to ride a
bike, jiggled the pan on Sunday nights when he made popcorn, they awed me as he
used them to hold test tubes and do Science demonstrations for my elementary
school class and my children’s classes too, they held the books he read to me
while using funny voices for all the characters, they washed my hair and
brushed my teeth when I was a child. His hands penned poetry and lovingly
signed carefully chosen birthday and Valentine’s Day cards. Oh how I love and miss those hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m looking forward to our extended family cookout this
Memorial Day. There will be three
generations celebrating together. We
will enjoy hotdogs and hamburgers from the grill, play yard games, and chat on
my sister’s screen porch, the rocking chairs on the porch are coveted seats and
are never empty once the weather warms. I’m making a beeline for one of
them. My parents always loved these occasions;
they would love seeing all their children, grandchildren, and great
grandchildren ages ten years to four weeks old.
I’d gladly give up the rocking chairs to them, if only . . .<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-57080080779361570112012-05-07T10:06:00.000-07:002012-05-07T10:15:23.185-07:00My New Book, Holding A Story In My Hands!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cbg7fwOzq_W8Tu2ncaj3DWysQ7UWhXUqoxr049gWylBICs4p1KKHHXAFuvgBssgE8lwO564gKk9D-ipMeCxKOmKrBK9ZS8U1nbf1LF5ToT5V5dKz5kXz5wL-K8PxkSjdBLy8Jqut2g/s1600/IMG_3876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cbg7fwOzq_W8Tu2ncaj3DWysQ7UWhXUqoxr049gWylBICs4p1KKHHXAFuvgBssgE8lwO564gKk9D-ipMeCxKOmKrBK9ZS8U1nbf1LF5ToT5V5dKz5kXz5wL-K8PxkSjdBLy8Jqut2g/s320/IMG_3876.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Yesterday I had some very special moments. After years of thinking about, writing, and
most recently illustrating a second children’s book, the first print copy
arrived on my doorstep. You might think <b>that</b> was the special moment, but it
wasn’t. I brought the package in, the
wrapping was torn off and I sat down holding the book in my hands. Still, this was not the special moment. The special moment happened next when my three
oldest granddaughters, who were visiting, came and sat by me, and the first
reading of the book occurred. <o:p></o:p></div>
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To have a book idea and pictures floating around in one’s
head is fun, but to have that idea on real pages in one’s hand is amazing. There is just something so satisfying about
looking at words and illustrations in a way that can be shared, in print, in
color, alive so to speak. I’m actually
thankful that I had over two weeks down time with my broken foot to work on the
book. And, I’m very grateful to my friend, Chuck Wasson , for sharing a wonderful
iPad application, called <i>Paper53</i>,
which allowed me to create the drawings and “paintings” without any mess while couch
bound.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My little ones seemed to love the moment too. The ones who can read each took a turn reading
the book aloud to all of us. My little
Nora was able to finish the rhyming words on each page after just a few times
listening, she <i>felt</i> like she was “
reading”. It really was a wonderful
moment. It was the moment for which my children’s books have been written, the
moment I share the stories with my little ones.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am also excited to share, “If I Only Had A Penny” with
you. Here is a link to the book, you may
preview it, and if you would like an autographed copy let me know and I will
send it to you. If you don’t want it
autographed you can purchase it directly from the website. <a href="http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/3189737">http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/3189737</a> If you purchase from me the prices are
slightly less as I buy multiple copies.
Sadly self-published works are expensive, I don't make any profit, but my goal is simply to get the story out there. Think of the hard
cover book as six trips to Starbucks (and you’ll always have the book, whereas the
coffee will be gone once you drain the cup) and the soft cover book is the cost of a
few less cups of Joe.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Please check it out and let me know what you think of my new
“baby”. I'd give a penny for your thoughts!<o:p></o:p></div>
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P.S. Here is the link to my first book, "The Moon, The Star, and The Firefly" if you haven't seen that one yet, also available through me or the website. <a href="http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/1152367">http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/1152367</a></div>
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<br /></div>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-5742238553632664332012-04-28T17:25:00.000-07:002012-04-28T17:25:53.551-07:00How To Make An Apple Bird!Since I have broken my foot, I thought now would be a good time to do a tutorial. Years ago I learned how to make apple birds and they have graced many fruit platters at parties since then. They are easy to make and add some fun to the table, so please enjoy the tutorial and have fun making your next party table an even bigger hit!<br />
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Here's what you will need, an apple, tooth picks, lemon juice and whole cloves.</div>
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Pour the juice into a small bowl, you will not need very much, just enough to dip pieces in, in order to keep them fresh.</div>
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See, just a little in the bottom of the bowl.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWB-36-8Cz9JpL-u9lvnKD8gDHYHq3InptAQNTPwG-xyxBk_EaePkYsucggHPL8O9CjsJxM2vD1tMsYEbe47VFkQgj0mydoBpmRb1siAakabznv3u3d3pNEJuYCr7vNw7tAy_5s86YLA/s1600/IMG_3560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWB-36-8Cz9JpL-u9lvnKD8gDHYHq3InptAQNTPwG-xyxBk_EaePkYsucggHPL8O9CjsJxM2vD1tMsYEbe47VFkQgj0mydoBpmRb1siAakabznv3u3d3pNEJuYCr7vNw7tAy_5s86YLA/s320/IMG_3560.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You need a small, sharp paring knife.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5j5pAFDhxfW7zRulKgd2QWerdaV4vGzeUaSQ4Sep0CYK4dPFEqgOSlZpg97Woyi1UGNuTeGWxjvgeGd8hUnWIgpnZiOD_xmyP-yy_Cuhduvv6jOygPQJFEg86Qi4vk_YCAv2GAS2jA/s1600/IMG_3562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5j5pAFDhxfW7zRulKgd2QWerdaV4vGzeUaSQ4Sep0CYK4dPFEqgOSlZpg97Woyi1UGNuTeGWxjvgeGd8hUnWIgpnZiOD_xmyP-yy_Cuhduvv6jOygPQJFEg86Qi4vk_YCAv2GAS2jA/s320/IMG_3562.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cut a piece about a quarter of the apple off, this is going to be the head.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Now cut the head shape out of this piece.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
See how the cut should look below.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZOE-rfcW7vLve6IRbSPNaC5paIVniC6JAOIMYxb1XHRsOohPcFK5me-M10ya41dWcYRXq0lsm1YderU0NxASoOwRtVJ4KhgcQPTYz-utLyLjRFR5CkllTdISYP68LLjcybhfYdNQmSA/s1600/IMG_3567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZOE-rfcW7vLve6IRbSPNaC5paIVniC6JAOIMYxb1XHRsOohPcFK5me-M10ya41dWcYRXq0lsm1YderU0NxASoOwRtVJ4KhgcQPTYz-utLyLjRFR5CkllTdISYP68LLjcybhfYdNQmSA/s320/IMG_3567.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You may discard the pieces that you have cut away. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The center piece is what you need.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Put it in the lemon juice for a minute so it will stay fresh looking.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Remove the stem if it is still on the apple and discard it.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Now we will begin cutting the tail feathers from the center of the remaining part of the apple.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Cut inward from both sides removing, and keeping, a small crescent.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Now cut just outside of the last cut, about 1/8 to 1/4 inch out, and inward like before, making a "V"</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Remove and save</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Dip these pieces in the lemon juice as well.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Make the final tail feather cut as before, cutting inward in a long "V".</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Gently pull up and out and dip and save</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
All the tail feathers have now been cut.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLvAaObYYz2pGtETokUgzfcn0lXlLXVdOrEW-Hs8Y4Dqn2Bte6QmFOmRNn783Mk8C8OiUaoDXqcPYVj1sI_XASxX7J64SjXBDlIT5m_kZJtSKcEsMz5ijrl4AUxQCWESG8nIQBY9_Mw/s1600/IMG_3583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLvAaObYYz2pGtETokUgzfcn0lXlLXVdOrEW-Hs8Y4Dqn2Bte6QmFOmRNn783Mk8C8OiUaoDXqcPYVj1sI_XASxX7J64SjXBDlIT5m_kZJtSKcEsMz5ijrl4AUxQCWESG8nIQBY9_Mw/s320/IMG_3583.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now we begin the wings, they are cut on each side of the tail feather cut, and done the exact same way.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
My first cut broke in half, it doesn't matter, it will fit back in perfectly later, just dip and save.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
You can see it is broken, but just keep the sections matched up together for reassembly.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I also broke the the next cut, also doesn't matter, just dip, save and match for reassembly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxPXpeqAMfs72LayUS0mDYmF3dnm9QmdN6URwmxEIB0017_zfVop9tb31vEjaGnHJZEfuf-zLMyAGoFHjJlL0Rv6oV4QfE_mGblm9ZUnz30pdGRQBeAV1yo29VjZ_CYbF5bUv1nJtZg/s1600/IMG_3588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxPXpeqAMfs72LayUS0mDYmF3dnm9QmdN6URwmxEIB0017_zfVop9tb31vEjaGnHJZEfuf-zLMyAGoFHjJlL0Rv6oV4QfE_mGblm9ZUnz30pdGRQBeAV1yo29VjZ_CYbF5bUv1nJtZg/s320/IMG_3588.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now you can see the cuts for the tail feathers and the first wing are done.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLsJHGTCnuxTXJIh7qrThlk-G_Qnf0ASYQh-hTZ2960mcispbxqRxfhGgPqMPAs-yAIFehgcivZHZVGMXnekwz3p3Sop3CIbeEWwRpsmjeCJ_3f0RtxVN0lwVxHBZRao_a5cN2MwBLA/s1600/IMG_3589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLsJHGTCnuxTXJIh7qrThlk-G_Qnf0ASYQh-hTZ2960mcispbxqRxfhGgPqMPAs-yAIFehgcivZHZVGMXnekwz3p3Sop3CIbeEWwRpsmjeCJ_3f0RtxVN0lwVxHBZRao_a5cN2MwBLA/s320/IMG_3589.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now I'm going to repeat on the other side.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqc99VrikKhY0RCCyfO2kgMA1CU2nDoYXAVXCbPph7zfKsupwnmhW94JTPnVp_vTscZvQ4NBwBvdiOI2DRawV4c-ARZXT7FjNCI5NLX0dG4N14NpZqjqCB8B7AfTnKpHhPwggS05mCRg/s1600/IMG_3590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqc99VrikKhY0RCCyfO2kgMA1CU2nDoYXAVXCbPph7zfKsupwnmhW94JTPnVp_vTscZvQ4NBwBvdiOI2DRawV4c-ARZXT7FjNCI5NLX0dG4N14NpZqjqCB8B7AfTnKpHhPwggS05mCRg/s320/IMG_3590.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2NWerb0KmFsJrYzbUPIJOUSSAHTI7y7FYcyMUed3M5jBGnOKuV2cTFkAeKMULLstPe4kvtaA1p9K-1uJuDzArLZ5PLGNI6Dw5ThOKXGvZYishr4xYxD2RU_4L0PxJZHp4KTckXgdMg/s1600/IMG_3591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2NWerb0KmFsJrYzbUPIJOUSSAHTI7y7FYcyMUed3M5jBGnOKuV2cTFkAeKMULLstPe4kvtaA1p9K-1uJuDzArLZ5PLGNI6Dw5ThOKXGvZYishr4xYxD2RU_4L0PxJZHp4KTckXgdMg/s320/IMG_3591.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Voila! Both sides have now been cut, and you can see how it looks. I have keep all the pieces that match together for reassembly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8D_TcA3lH0hGTNODqrrQ33OduuoZoxS_Visx5d-jC3xQFITjewVsfZDFAxabTroo_rwRcFmzRDqtTxfrF_toP4U6BigrVEcuz7A3HvcRMdlgrvc-m-IRBCGmAZwKnyAARbpfPUKvplQ/s1600/IMG_3592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8D_TcA3lH0hGTNODqrrQ33OduuoZoxS_Visx5d-jC3xQFITjewVsfZDFAxabTroo_rwRcFmzRDqtTxfrF_toP4U6BigrVEcuz7A3HvcRMdlgrvc-m-IRBCGmAZwKnyAARbpfPUKvplQ/s320/IMG_3592.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cFJdyDeEZdaXJeFWzI_oYrv7enkq7mRRuO-vj5U3iRZ7pKO4neEyIEaf4qy6Q00tNqqE-8cX1RBtltU_7p_eNTboLxOYh9QojVPqp7kSWCB7iNBZlOQu3jn8vG_QBdLWkgAo81QT_g/s1600/IMG_3593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cFJdyDeEZdaXJeFWzI_oYrv7enkq7mRRuO-vj5U3iRZ7pKO4neEyIEaf4qy6Q00tNqqE-8cX1RBtltU_7p_eNTboLxOYh9QojVPqp7kSWCB7iNBZlOQu3jn8vG_QBdLWkgAo81QT_g/s320/IMG_3593.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now to put the bird together starting with the head.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0wOYLiFyCvw_eyIkPwen4LcUgmznCrjiB8gibreYnYadKurtN61N67FECCYLxO__5Ou9P21cHbdYYR1cAxSW47kbLzCNGkHABE4c3kcTizBfBYsNDgNncMEj4_rgbMbc_IdoabQazw/s1600/IMG_3594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0wOYLiFyCvw_eyIkPwen4LcUgmznCrjiB8gibreYnYadKurtN61N67FECCYLxO__5Ou9P21cHbdYYR1cAxSW47kbLzCNGkHABE4c3kcTizBfBYsNDgNncMEj4_rgbMbc_IdoabQazw/s320/IMG_3594.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Insert a toothpick into the base of the "neck", push the toothpick about half way into the "neck".</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbdYtwImQ5DPowPCGIutxDCx55FYBJ9BA-9fr7BRO5fFJGrKGL6uVSlh-I0dr2RMtGa3xwI8QRQ-PURjSR4tfO4sVFcOPYRTvLOQunDDumT0dA_2WHKVrx5XJWMflnoEYjMfrUNhljQ/s1600/IMG_3595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbdYtwImQ5DPowPCGIutxDCx55FYBJ9BA-9fr7BRO5fFJGrKGL6uVSlh-I0dr2RMtGa3xwI8QRQ-PURjSR4tfO4sVFcOPYRTvLOQunDDumT0dA_2WHKVrx5XJWMflnoEYjMfrUNhljQ/s320/IMG_3595.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihn3UrnyDi-rzVGvWGDsMGnmJ5-0lIQeZeyKJ9LDZBcSw0QaVbwIjRQrwUedJ2AvEww98DSEY6-qqcQ9xqhKjDUbUyjR-TLJstz2BhRrxXKKF4Swbg0j-JbYikbasBknEFlldj63G6FA/s1600/IMG_3596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihn3UrnyDi-rzVGvWGDsMGnmJ5-0lIQeZeyKJ9LDZBcSw0QaVbwIjRQrwUedJ2AvEww98DSEY6-qqcQ9xqhKjDUbUyjR-TLJstz2BhRrxXKKF4Swbg0j-JbYikbasBknEFlldj63G6FA/s320/IMG_3596.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now push the toothpick into the front of the bird in the tail feather (center) cut.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Now the bird has a head, it's a bit big, but we can cut it down and size it later.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Tail feather time, here we go, put the wide tail feather in first (it was last out) and about half way back in the center cut.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFZAOPXq6W0ag_saVYMm8h6LJyhyqhGxxLcabyQ9ZxpTph-cWdlKkTWxdUeCmnSuWdvXeOCwcJDIbj2F5xrnbdlGXd7tbVFFhCrjYvBNcJexEbFuFwF1GOo-lxEkM-qFZahrZ-veePA/s1600/IMG_3599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFZAOPXq6W0ag_saVYMm8h6LJyhyqhGxxLcabyQ9ZxpTph-cWdlKkTWxdUeCmnSuWdvXeOCwcJDIbj2F5xrnbdlGXd7tbVFFhCrjYvBNcJexEbFuFwF1GOo-lxEkM-qFZahrZ-veePA/s320/IMG_3599.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Next, the middle cut, sliding it down about 1/2 inch on top of the first cut.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ptBhJ4WZD0Ggee8DR03gDo39tgmGuX3gS0tzPVI_rEPeR2G4vFvsDLPXhnwPr3baosGfgslkI6hXiWcY-blR2xOWh15Qh_C-6YjlY49REqMZgv_na8_4p1mWiB91OJXyX0wY5nmG4A/s1600/IMG_3600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ptBhJ4WZD0Ggee8DR03gDo39tgmGuX3gS0tzPVI_rEPeR2G4vFvsDLPXhnwPr3baosGfgslkI6hXiWcY-blR2xOWh15Qh_C-6YjlY49REqMZgv_na8_4p1mWiB91OJXyX0wY5nmG4A/s320/IMG_3600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Finally, the first tiny sliver about 1/2 inch back from the middle cut.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikV-pSuQZB3atomVZXSNRicKxC0UbrHhHgM0KNzLMhYSX5-FT6xaRCN_yybFCRCJKhQPlSMnryk5F22ASY4fV5lqMZ_20Nkm7eKNyTQFYQXGlPovfHhA9dNhUh5XuepanulU-ZmWkATg/s1600/IMG_3601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikV-pSuQZB3atomVZXSNRicKxC0UbrHhHgM0KNzLMhYSX5-FT6xaRCN_yybFCRCJKhQPlSMnryk5F22ASY4fV5lqMZ_20Nkm7eKNyTQFYQXGlPovfHhA9dNhUh5XuepanulU-ZmWkATg/s320/IMG_3601.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And now you have the tail.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSx6VQQoHwZ5Ak4o_vLo5X8_TSFvva6_WVRcPB8l1nwaZsqDn3GzgyKhpOn_Q1KvpjaYahfKomC2cIf8nS5OoR_VxrLMCM5LJXXaOvveBGWT1mNO6s_I984qnZe019H6zRyMSuKqYElA/s1600/IMG_3602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSx6VQQoHwZ5Ak4o_vLo5X8_TSFvva6_WVRcPB8l1nwaZsqDn3GzgyKhpOn_Q1KvpjaYahfKomC2cIf8nS5OoR_VxrLMCM5LJXXaOvveBGWT1mNO6s_I984qnZe019H6zRyMSuKqYElA/s320/IMG_3602.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Here's what it will look like from the top.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQIT5izQAf-7BZBXIq2COdBaGULJiNumos5k4wB_KtANcBVa2sNcvHo_b4yjNKcCat-zpIxbnTjy5tuM7m6Ohj8dZHvufjc9Q0PD9yy4RYwG04VtJ_XNpVwq-3j-HbfbTdwmKTuKMaQ/s1600/IMG_3603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQIT5izQAf-7BZBXIq2COdBaGULJiNumos5k4wB_KtANcBVa2sNcvHo_b4yjNKcCat-zpIxbnTjy5tuM7m6Ohj8dZHvufjc9Q0PD9yy4RYwG04VtJ_XNpVwq-3j-HbfbTdwmKTuKMaQ/s320/IMG_3603.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now for the wings, do them the same way you did the tail feathers.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Here's the two pieces that broke, see they will fit in perfectly and stay tight, not to worry.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
One wing done, this bird is about to take flight :)</div>
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Repeat on the other side.</div>
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He's almost done, but the head is too big, so I want to cut it and shape it a bit.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Careful not to cut too much and break the neck.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Much better.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Whole cloves make lovely eyes, I had to use whole pepper corns because I was out of cloves.</div>
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Well hello there , here's looking at you!</div>
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So cute.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
In order to set into a fruit platter, insert two toothpicks into the bottom of the bird.</div>
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We are going to give this little guy a grape nest tonight.</div>
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And there you have it, he's the hit of the party.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And he was easy to make.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Have fun!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeX4gj3lF9VSoffT_UtUu8uLi-S2UHdXB5c5beVKRvACgrh7QMvhp-gGL8SzeFTRAnNhcFAIHNHxGR5UaS6UL3eCBRWy6hgg657C3zNvDQDL-rL5XcXqIixzqg8bjzMCzccZAk9ps-w/s1600/IMG_3630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeX4gj3lF9VSoffT_UtUu8uLi-S2UHdXB5c5beVKRvACgrh7QMvhp-gGL8SzeFTRAnNhcFAIHNHxGR5UaS6UL3eCBRWy6hgg657C3zNvDQDL-rL5XcXqIixzqg8bjzMCzccZAk9ps-w/s320/IMG_3630.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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And now you know how to make a cute apple bird. Thanks for joining me!</div>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328555630681284823.post-36149241821882666942012-04-21T13:57:00.004-07:002012-04-21T14:07:20.894-07:00When The Rubber Meets The Road<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4aaVyPBtaPGbg3_SGuv6GBKh_M221igirw-hdihvYuGi-AzZ4PoQj_Mr8N7hqkiuQuUw4Q1AgTFIQFJL0ISxToMBuL6uXajQLlFzQUC5SkM3InI6eejFqZMNy0_OyW3EaWp3pdJyxQ/s1600/IMG_3483.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4aaVyPBtaPGbg3_SGuv6GBKh_M221igirw-hdihvYuGi-AzZ4PoQj_Mr8N7hqkiuQuUw4Q1AgTFIQFJL0ISxToMBuL6uXajQLlFzQUC5SkM3InI6eejFqZMNy0_OyW3EaWp3pdJyxQ/s320/IMG_3483.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733961461706834802" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">The other day I saw this quote “May your life preach more loudly than your lips.” by William Ellery Channing. It made me think about how my life is perceived by others, especially when I’m walking through some kind of a challenge, walking through a valley so to speak. The last two and half weeks on the couch weren’t some of my best moments. I’d like to be able to say that I was sweet tempered, patient, and maintained a very positive attitude day in and day out, but that just isn’t the case. However, after seeing that quote I did feel convicted.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s so easy to drop catch phrases when trying to comfort friends and family when life’s road gets rough. It’s another thing to live those words when things turn personal. I think back on all the times I’ve advised others to “trust the Lord and His timing” or “make the most of this time to do something you might not otherwise have done” or “it’s up to you whether or not you have a good day or a bad day, you decide which way it’s going to be” (my kids heard that one a lot). As one day on the couch stretched into another, I lost motivation to really do anything productive, wondered what in the world the Lord was trying to teach me with all this down time, and mostly didn’t feel like making the right decisions regarding my attitude. Thankfully, Channing’s nine little words pushed me to reconsider living my own advice to others and start making my couch moments matter.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m happy to say that I do believe God has a plan and purpose for my life, and his timing is perfect. I have had some remarkable time to visit with friends (even get to know some much better for having the extra moments together) and been blessed to catch up on some correspondence to others who are facing far worse challenges than I am. As far as using the time to do something productive, thanks to our dear friend Chuck Wasson, I have enjoyed a great deal of time on a new application that he introduced to me for my I Pad, and it looks like the illustrations for another one of my children’s books are almost ready to put into print form. Perhaps most importantly, I can honestly say that attitude is everything when it comes to outlook and enjoying peace and joy each day, I’m glad that I turned mine around.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The bottom line is I’m thankful for the opportunity for personal growth this broken foot has afforded. I feel like I’ve learned a valuable lesson and next time I experience a challenging time (and I know I will) I will respond better. Hopefully in the future when the rubber meets the road, I will quickly demonstrate my faith in the hard places. For now though, I’m glad my days in community theater are over, I don’t think I could handle anyone telling me “to break a leg!”<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ll let you know when the book is available!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"></span>This boot was made for walking . . . and that's just what I'll do!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0hjlVaDsyDHgfKpbBE5QGsvdNLQ7tPimP9VHFXb9CKNiybyHYmwcj1XW-WmYdPinhMI-lPB5kGwVKmC87CTx0JoJE6tSTOZyOrSKpBUy50x8Vt451yBHXdWfHRQpDbdo7CyYS2Y7ww/s1600/IMG_3484.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0hjlVaDsyDHgfKpbBE5QGsvdNLQ7tPimP9VHFXb9CKNiybyHYmwcj1XW-WmYdPinhMI-lPB5kGwVKmC87CTx0JoJE6tSTOZyOrSKpBUy50x8Vt451yBHXdWfHRQpDbdo7CyYS2Y7ww/s320/IMG_3484.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733961569863267106" /></a>Bobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04067665724964704557noreply@blogger.com2