tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43454594669940467492024-03-05T01:25:13.418-05:00Trish's life... in her own words...I could pay for a therapist which I have considered many times over... instead I am choosing to write, to laugh, to remember moments, to look at how blessed I am. I am choosing to live, to dream... to seek out how I can change the world, one word, one smile, one person at a time- starting with me.Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-61416958355962628542011-06-02T18:32:00.425-04:002011-06-14T21:38:35.598-04:00Monster in the Hollows book review, rabbits and more...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnpxp4NeYUBo7ML9Wwa3Fv8yB4DAr8fLHnWv5jKpaPo89tfNeaSlzxV5uSJvYgYFK5QBRqRoEhOrtR4xcvrTLZVKvAUaHws1lApONh1PJWCN5PiXPpPOYMSyx-0wrVhGAVIXVp9KjQCUU/s1600/P5261202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnpxp4NeYUBo7ML9Wwa3Fv8yB4DAr8fLHnWv5jKpaPo89tfNeaSlzxV5uSJvYgYFK5QBRqRoEhOrtR4xcvrTLZVKvAUaHws1lApONh1PJWCN5PiXPpPOYMSyx-0wrVhGAVIXVp9KjQCUU/s400/P5261202.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">neighborhood rabbit sighting</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Today I received a link to a posting in the Rabbit Room. How fitting it came from my husband especially since our recent close encounter with our very own neighborhood rabbit. Another story for another time. I know you are all breathlessly waiting to hear how Andy and the kids attempted to corner the poor beauteous animal but for now onto the link. Andrew Peterson posted "</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: ScalaRegular, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">write a review of </span></span><em style="border-width: 0px; font-family: ScalaItalic; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">The Monster in the Hollows</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> (and the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Wingfeather</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> Saga in general) for your blog... </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: ScalaRegular, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><strong style="border-width: 0px; font-family: ScalaBold; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> winners will receive an original hand-drawn picture from the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Wingfeather</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> Saga.</span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> Hand-drawn by me, that is, just for you</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">." Oh, I was all over that. We received the most recent book, book number three in </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">The </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Wingfeather</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> Saga</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> series just the other week. A few days later our son had fully devoured each and every page- wanting to show me pictures along the way and trying his hardest to not speak of where the characters were headed or what they were doing. Perfect, get him to write a little bit about his experience in the book and maybe win his favorite character to put up on </span></span><s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">his</span></span></s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> our wall!</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">In the humble opinion of my 12 year old son, his own typed words as to why this series is a good read:</span></span></span></span><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuCNQJqMRL45laV4hoGsi_ShnMTszqWXJzfw1WnluJFvQ96Sry3tkpwLpAv5tokX22-ZE2uMKLhh_VFUVuFqfUvdExUHZyZc1e3LApAlkCBmWsT5twMKIRAaAenfWJ8JcnKjVOov8sFw/s1600/P6031314.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/AVvXsEimuCNQJqMRL45laV4hoGsi_ShnMTszqWXJzfw1WnluJFvQ96Sry3tkpwLpAv5tokX22-ZE2uMKLhh_VFUVuFqfUvdExUHZyZc1e3LApAlkCBmWsT5twMKIRAaAenfWJ8JcnKjVOov8sFw/s200/P6031314.JPG" width="150" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; color: #eeeeee; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuCNQJqMRL45laV4hoGsi_ShnMTszqWXJzfw1WnluJFvQ96Sry3tkpwLpAv5tokX22-ZE2uMKLhh_VFUVuFqfUvdExUHZyZc1e3LApAlkCBmWsT5twMKIRAaAenfWJ8JcnKjVOov8sFw/s1600/P6031314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuCNQJqMRL45laV4hoGsi_ShnMTszqWXJzfw1WnluJFvQ96Sry3tkpwLpAv5tokX22-ZE2uMKLhh_VFUVuFqfUvdExUHZyZc1e3LApAlkCBmWsT5twMKIRAaAenfWJ8JcnKjVOov8sFw/s1600/P6031314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">The books by Andrew Peterson are very well written. They make me feel like I am inside the books filled with adventure but also taking on the personal aspect of the story. The third book, </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">The Monster in the Hollows</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;"> still gives us this feeling of anxiety and adventure. </span></span></span></blockquote></blockquote></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdsSxCHm6I30FCGUccqexUyS3fHLRd9YCP9HySDuSnhij5pQIM4jdmOhILzDuWcft1lT7TIaAflbKNwfvyAWR74cCW50uyf6Jri-tKw8A4d6qUs057gjQUp46DoERHajxDyB41oWsQR0/s1600/P6031309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdsSxCHm6I30FCGUccqexUyS3fHLRd9YCP9HySDuSnhij5pQIM4jdmOhILzDuWcft1lT7TIaAflbKNwfvyAWR74cCW50uyf6Jri-tKw8A4d6qUs057gjQUp46DoERHajxDyB41oWsQR0/s640/P6031309.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQ_fK1oaS7xEjAK4tw5cQHPou9CKunHw44dv3ievczYymKQVLtGSHuncmbzOoZvqJD9CAJ4hWIMUddnGKO5pm3BHXRQd6ZPkZ3gAaCuJy4gPLZ4BRPGEsqsla-TJvj1UmgSv_3o5kyS8/s1600/P6031316.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/AVvXsEhzQ_fK1oaS7xEjAK4tw5cQHPou9CKunHw44dv3ievczYymKQVLtGSHuncmbzOoZvqJD9CAJ4hWIMUddnGKO5pm3BHXRQd6ZPkZ3gAaCuJy4gPLZ4BRPGEsqsla-TJvj1UmgSv_3o5kyS8/s200/P6031316.JPG" width="149" /></a><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">When they arrive at the green hollows what will happen to the family? When they don't fit in and everyone makes fun of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">Kalmar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;"> what should they do? And does </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">Kalmar's</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;"> change effect how he will act without knowing what he is doing? Then read and find out the secret of the Hollows.</span></span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="https://store.rabbitroom.com/books/the-monster-in-the-hollows"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">To the Rabbit Room for your purchasing pleasure... </span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">I have not had the opportunity to begin reading this newest addition to the </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Wingfeather</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> series as I am looking for the perfect time of quiet and space to entrench myself back into this world. It would be preferable to read it before Caleb gets too chatty about what has transpired and I know the ending before I have even begun! I have to admit, the maps and the background given in the first one had a hard time drawing me in but before I knew it the pages had flown by my fingers and I was completely immersed in this new world. A world where a fair ruling system had gone awry when evil infiltrated it. I agree with Caleb, the writing is such that even though it is so otherworldly you feel the characters pain and triumphs. It becomes very personal as you walk the journey with them. Peterson writes in such a way that you almost feel that if you were to sneeze the people on the pages would offer you a tissue. It's real stuff the characters wrestle with, choosing between what's best and what's better, struggling with where your allegiances lie, who you are going to choose to follow, wanting the power of recognition and fame but knowing your place is to serve with humility and forgo gain for self. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Speaking on behalf of my husband and I, we don't know when or how it happened, just that it did, we encountered Andrew Peterson. We have never met him personally but we were first touched deeply by his music. He paints a picture with words that goes way beyond the surface. Joy abounded when <em>Slugs & Bugs & Butterflies (Peterson and Goodgame)</em> entered our world. So much joy that during a family vacation we were asked politely to turn him off for awhile because the kids kept replaying some of the songs over and over and over again! We have laughed and we have cried with him. I know I speak of it often... but Peterson's music was a comfort to us when when we were processing the death of Andy's brother while working the land. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Lay Me Down</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">...Oh, and I recall</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">We rode the combines in the fall<br />
And there comes a time<br />
For gathering the harvest after all<br />
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So when you lay me down to die<br />
I’ll miss my boys, I’ll miss my girls<br />
Lay me down and let me say goodbye to this world<br />
You can lay me anywhere<br />
But just remember this<br />
When you lay me down to die<br />
You lay me down to live...</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">As Peterson's music has been timely in our life and in our healing of day to day happenings so have his books been able to transport us into another realm. One of fantasy yes, but more importantly it has brought up questions in my mind such as how do I deal and react to injustice in the world and how far would I go to protect those whom I love? Even if it meant losing myself and my ambitions in the process?</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></span> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">I can't tell you why or why not to read this series of books. I can tell you that they make you wish for something more, for something greater to challenge all the bad guys in the world and to right all the rotten cards you feel you have been dealt. Whether it be physical challenges or emotional ailments as the lots you have been been dropped and planted in- you will bloom if your face is towards the light. We were created to crave something more, to serve something more. So much darkness has filled this world that it's easy to give in, to succumb, to feel defeated, to join forces with the darkness. If you choose to read the <em>Wingfeather Saga</em> books you will be inspired to take up your sword and fight awhile. In the end, God will triumph. I sure do want to be on His side when it all comes down. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
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</div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-261079055057908612011-01-25T18:21:00.017-05:002011-01-26T00:22:27.736-05:00Rain, rain, go away<div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
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<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadrmIS1V9FeCEapqNTFw5PKXGGOn9DyFqD8gzWNj4FT-jjZMWeDiJdME9DB5a6d4ay_I7E0z9G6TE32GNGF8IEv1k81w5j6nxBG5gmS5V-kAHIfekdkPex1b2Zyh_x71DcCvBOfP5ANo/s1600/P9210006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadrmIS1V9FeCEapqNTFw5PKXGGOn9DyFqD8gzWNj4FT-jjZMWeDiJdME9DB5a6d4ay_I7E0z9G6TE32GNGF8IEv1k81w5j6nxBG5gmS5V-kAHIfekdkPex1b2Zyh_x71DcCvBOfP5ANo/s400/P9210006.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Last week the rain came. My feet were stuck in molasses and my mind didn't want to move me. Tears threatened to rain down my face to match the precipitation outside. I knew I had to get dressed and get going out the door but I didn't want to. I thought for sure my heart had stopped, I couldn't breathe. It was a familiar sinking feeling yet very unwelcome. I wanted to sit and keep on sitting. The energy it took to get ready was about enough to make me keel over. I had to will my arms to care to move and my mind to get past dwelling on all that has been considered lost to me and the failures I had yet to fail at but just knew I would. It came out of nowhere. Funny how sorrow has a way of creeping up on you and settling into your bones.</span></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br />
The feeling of being unworthy and sad and lonely and confused is almost too much for a heart to bear at one time. The weight of the world threatens to overtake and push down til life is all but extinguished except for a weak pulse. Ok, so a bit dramatic but trust me, it's quite stifling! I did manage to get myself moving and into the car. Amazingly God quickly brought to mind His presence within me, something I began to feel so forcefully while surrounded in emptiness over a year ago- I am known by Him. If I feel invisible to the world around me, I am KNOWN and LOVED by HIM.</span></span></span></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br />
</span></span></span></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3;">I constantly fall into the trap of basing my worth on what I have to offer, how I am doing as a friend to those I care about rather than basking in the glow and privilege of being created in God's image for His glory. There I go again, "feeling" my worth, setting my eyes on my progress, meeting or not meeting my standards, thinking through what I can or can't do and finally coming to the conclusion that it's more of what I will or won't do and then the cycle begins anew... I know too much. I know what I need to be doing, how I need to be living, how I should be serving. Many days I wish I didn't know so much because the responsibility that comes with that knowledge can be super overwhelming and way too convicting that I give up before I've even begun...<br />
<br />
Our church called a new Pastor. You would think this would be a happy time of fresh blood to instill vision and healing. Instead it has caused me to reflect on the fact that there are so many people in my life who don't really know me, who can't offer me affirmations of who I am, who weren't close by when I couldn't stand on my own two feet and needed shoulders to lean on. I miss friends who noticed me when my teeth were crooked and supported me when we fell so far down financially that I couldn't see my way clear. Whether it's reality or not I feel that I am surrounded by people who don't know the depth of my heart and the stories that God has given me, who most importantly haven't witnessed the transformation of His redeeming power and provision in my life. Hence, the invisible feeling.<br />
<br />
It lingers, the pressure of a lifetime worth of tears waiting to push over the threshold. My husband has said to me before that I am stronger than I think I am. I know it to be true but I wish it were not so. I don't want to be strong. I am full of contradictions. I want to be noticed yet when I am I shrink away fearful that the spotlight was wrongly placed. I desire and crave community, a group of people growing together and meeting the needs of the body. Yet I fear what I want the most. I fear you getting to know me. I fear you not liking me. I fear God. I fear the power and glory of His name. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br />
I know I have worn down trails with the sameness of my daily living and when I have stepped off the path and branched out I have found many rocky patches, places where the trees haven't been trimmed and lined with boulders not wanting to budge. I bump my head and watch as my feet get bloody and don't want to push on. I run back to the well worn path because I fear not knowing if the pain is worth it. I am a creature of habit, be it or for good or bad. I desire to go and blaze a new trail yet crave the comfort and ease of knowing the way. I have driven the same road for the past 3 years to take my daughter to the gym. A few months ago I decided to find a different route to get there. It took many weeks before I could will my mind and arms to not get in the turning lane when I desired to make a change and go straight. Now it's easy for me to make the choice at the light. My hands don't go left instinctively anymore when I want to continue on straight ahead. It took time and effort to get to that place.<br />
<br />
I still fear the changes taking place that were set in motion over the last couple of years within my church. Most of all oddly enough I think I fear that not enough has changed. Everything is strangely too familiar and has carried on pretty much the same. It's too easy to remain the same old me in my present circumstances. God has graciously carried me through this time despite my kicking and screaming and wanting to run off to another country for a fresh start. In my perfectionist personality I have a tendency to want to scrap something and start all over again if it's not quite right. That's what I have been fighting within myself. I fear living with my failures in plain sight, always having to work through them, struggling with relationships that aren't pretty which need lots of prayer along with a heavy serving of grace. I am a warrior yet often I live as one defeated and resigned to status quo. I want to be radical and live as one known to be loved and see what that love can do through me. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br />
</span></span></span></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">I heard this song while driving in the rain... wow. These lyrics coupled with the acknowledgment of my worth from a new friend in the presence of others the very next day helped to drive my mental rain away. Yes, I was shrinking inside but I was more amazed at how the Lord knew what I needed at that very moment.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Times (Tenth Avenue North)</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span></span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="songtext" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: transparent; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 80px; padding-right: 60px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span id="ctl00_cp_lblContent" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: transparent; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; line-height: 13px;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">I know I need You<br />
I need to love You<br />
I love to see You, but it's been so long<br />
I long to feel You<br />
I feel this need for You<br />
And I need to hear You, is that so wrong?<br />
<br />
Now You pull me near You<br />
When we're close, I fear You<br />
Still I'm afraid to tell You, all that I've done<br />
Are You done forgiving?<br />
Oh can You look past my pretending?<br />
Lord, I'm so tired of defending, what I've become<br />
What have I become?<br />
<br />
I hear You say,</span> </b><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></b></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">"My love is over. It's underneath.<br />
It's inside. It's in between.<br />
The times you doubt Me, when you can't feel.<br />
The times that you question, 'Is this for real? '<br />
The times you're broken.<br />
The times that you mend.<br />
The times that you hate Me, and the times that you bend.<br />
Well, My love is over, it's underneath.<br />
It's inside, it's in between.<br />
These times you're healing, and when your heart breaks.<br />
The times that you feel like you're falling from grace.<br />
The times you're hurting.<br />
The times that you heal.<br />
The times you go hungry, and are tempted to steal.<br />
The times of confusion, in chaos and pain.<br />
I'm there in your sorrow, under the weight of your shame.<br />
I'm there through your heartache.<br />
I'm there in the storm.<br />
My love I will keep you, by My pow'r alone.<br />
I don't care where you fall, where you have been.<br />
I'll never forsake you, My love never ends.<br />
It never ends."</span></b></span></i></span></i></span></span></div></div></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-63102924776076428482010-12-23T13:50:00.010-05:002010-12-23T15:09:11.228-05:00Christmas is coming<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSezQFVfdTeoOmlPAZR1qhac3ttp86debcVxkfjNCUx2jj4kRGaFz2L_weveLL4QYbRBAqA2xH50fFEY6O_EkMI3PBYuDlT1biX2PxZ6Y0zjxLwnPeTxvBAts8V2aVflgBZkjQkBg3pmQ/s1600/PC195812.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/AVvXsEgSezQFVfdTeoOmlPAZR1qhac3ttp86debcVxkfjNCUx2jj4kRGaFz2L_weveLL4QYbRBAqA2xH50fFEY6O_EkMI3PBYuDlT1biX2PxZ6Y0zjxLwnPeTxvBAts8V2aVflgBZkjQkBg3pmQ/s320/PC195812.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', -webkit-fantasy; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;">Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;"> <br />
Please put a penny in the old man's hat<br />
<br />
If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do</span> </b></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;"><br />
</span> </i></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;"><br />
</span> </i></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', fantasy; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;">If you haven't got a ha' penny, then God bless you!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;"><br />
I have been singing this tune for weeks now and at first the kids gave me strange looks and laughed at the funny words. Then they asked me what the words meant. It must be hard for them to imagine not having half a penny to give, at least in this past year when we have been blessed way beyond our daily needs. In turn I as well have been ruminating over these words, pondering what they mean for me specifically this Christmas time. What have I to give and to whom?<br />
<br />
The what I figured out quickly. I am sitting here staring at 8 tins filled with chocolate drizzled caramel popcorn. I decided my giving this year would be in the form of a homemade treat. The task of making the popcorn was for sure a labor of love along with a smidgen of bad attitude for having it take so long, frustration over dropping sticky kernels off the tray every time I stirred and anxiety wondering whether the end result would be edible and actually taste at least slightly yummy! The verdict was yes, it's good from what we were able to taste of the fallen particles! Sad to say, the popcorn filled up the tins so perfectly that there is none left for us to officially partake of. That's ok. I have a few people in mind already that the tins are going to but the others are still a mystery to me. I just know I was supposed to make it. <br />
<br />
Last night we were sitting at yet again (surprise) the gym waiting for Moriah to finish up gymnastics. My oldest played a game with his other sister and when that was finished he then had a seat and thought. He didn't have anything else along to do so he told me all he could do was think. He started to tear up a bit and I asked him about his thoughts. He said he was thinking about what it would be like if one of us were to die in our family. He then went on to explain that it was my cousin recently dying that made him think of this. I wish I could have reassured him and told him that it would never happen or something else cheery along that vein. I couldn't because I knew I would have been lying to him. But, what I could let him know is that if something were to happen to one of us -the others would make it through. I know this because I have been witness to it in the lives of other people, many times over. It would be hard but somehow we would muddle through it. I didn't let him know that I have similar thoughts at times. I threaten my husband about leaving me with trying to figure out how to do all the household stuff he does and then constantly remind him it wouldn't be a good idea for him to go first. At least not before he gets the new faucet in which by the way is no longer dripping from the top because it has sprouted a hole and is now leaking down the side...<br />
<br />
What I do know in my limited vision of life is that God loves us. I sat down and had myself a thinking time as well and tried to recall to mind all the people I knew who had lost loved ones around the Christmas season. The names and faces kept coming. I have prayed for wisdom as to who to give the remaining tins of popcorn to- who I am asked to help remind that there is life before death as well as life after death, in Christ. If we are in Christ there is always life. <br />
<br />
I have my son to owe for my thoughts today. He reminded me of the other side of Christmas, the side where it's not all rosy with thoughts of getting wished upon gifts and portraits of complete families in their christmas finery. I only wish I had time and energy to make popcorn for everyone this season who is hurting, lost, alone, displaced, abused, homeless and without. Again, as I have felt in the past I am grieving for all that I know to be good in my life while realizing that there are those who are unable to experience God's love in the form of physical blessings this Christmas time. I know I haven't done all my part as I should and that pains me.<br />
<br />
I was so privileged to sing these lyrics just a few weeks ago, "</span> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;">Have you heard about our Jesus, have you heard about his fate...</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;">" May the word get out it's not about the gifts or what ration of earthly blessings we have on earth, it's about the gift of life that was given some 2000 plus years ago. </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;"><br />
</span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-31313617454753648552010-12-21T14:02:00.026-05:002010-12-22T11:11:33.448-05:00True Confessions: Part 2<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span> </i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9Y3Ey23W8Hjy_vnMsdnukCgI1BnzZ1mSUU1sJadDnsK2yS1QhiMXFZK3DyPnt5xh5uAmm3HI310H_o1mVHqxFj433aDRBaUncL1XOSaaIxGTqyuGX3qCRSbekhmhooSvJBp1OXtPD_4/s1600/P7110684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9Y3Ey23W8Hjy_vnMsdnukCgI1BnzZ1mSUU1sJadDnsK2yS1QhiMXFZK3DyPnt5xh5uAmm3HI310H_o1mVHqxFj433aDRBaUncL1XOSaaIxGTqyuGX3qCRSbekhmhooSvJBp1OXtPD_4/s400/P7110684.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></i></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></i></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip...drop.</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Fancy meeting up with you here again. Many changes have taken place. I decided to spruce up my blog a bit which is much more fun for me than cleaning the house especially since I figured out I can use my own pictures for the background! Amazingly i<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">t has been over a year since the puffy face picture post which could frighten young and old alike. A long year since taking the time to key by key my words into this blog. It has not been for lack of writing material as evidenced by written on receipts and bits of torn-off pieces of paper in piles all around our house. I will one day write a post entitled "pieces of me." That one I imagine will have some kind of depth to it and since I am</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> feeling a bit more scatter brained and on the fluffy side today it will have to wait for another time. Today I am writing as I listen to the drip dropping sounds of our faucet. Hold onto your hats because I have a lot of scrambled words rushing to come out and find a place on this page. Confessions, hurts, lessons in the midst of being learned all fighting for time to come out for an airing of sorts.</span></span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">~</span></span><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> W</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">hile sitting in the audience at a posh venue and one begins to sing in her tight bodiced, floor length sequined gown it's all I can do to restrain myself with such force to not open my mouth and sing along.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">~ At the top of mountains the urge is so great to throw something down that I know will never be returned to me.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">~ Using a public restroom I sometimes come close to taking a ring off and flushing it.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">~ During rare moments in a car going at the slow speed of 30 mph I wonder briefly what it would feel like to cross over the center line into oncoming traffic.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I'm not really as cold-hearted and aloof to your pain as I seem to be. I spend half my time worried I've said too much and the other half fretting over what I've left unsaid. In a group setting if you have the same "gifts" as me and if you use them first with your words or actions I will sit back and let you take the stage. I have yet to sort out if it's a spirit of humility that holds me back while allowing another to shine or if it's my pride. Pride telling me to take my toys and go home if I don't score the first home run because I feel defeated already.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I</span></span><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> stopped testing. Well the school kind a long time again but I am referring to blood work and scans etc here. I finally stopped worrying about my numbers and reaching a standard. My husband found a naturopathic </span></span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">doctor for me who really has changed the way I view the medical world. I am not in denial about the insufficiencies that I have or the conditions that afflict me, I am just no longer consumed by them. I am choosing to not be defined by them any longer. It's not to say that I don't curl up in tears with stomach pain anymore after eating who knows what that triggered it or that I don't get frustrated for not being able to consistently make meals for my family because of my spinning head, or that I don't wonder why I can do yoga one day with no problems and the next bend down and get back up only to find my vision is gone for a few moments from one of my eyes- I do still feel pain, confusion, and fear! My mind is up one day, down the next with no warning. Confusing things happening within me still have me perplexed but no longer terrified. I guess it's me realizing that I am flawed greatly in more ways than one and it's ok to remain in that state and trust that God has His best interest in mind. Some things are unfixable, you need to find a way to live with them and move on. Some things are fleeting and don't deserve the attention given to them. My puffed state came in July of last year and left in December after powerful medicine was inserted into my lower back by way of really large needle. The huge puffy face monster has not shown itself since then. </span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: CourierNewPS-ItalicMT;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Dri</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">p... drop.</span></span></i></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I have made a few new friends though I find myself a bit scared and walking with soft feet because I am unsure how much of an impression my footprints should leave. I am not wanting to sink too deep for fear of losing my shoes again.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I am actually enjoying my kids being home this year. What a surprise and a gift, truly. I love hugging them all day long. I really love my kids. It has been a long journey getting to this place. I am here. I am appreciating it and living in it.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I like being one of the last people at a party because that's when the masks come off, figuratively speaking of course. There is a realness that is finally exposed after having just spent the last few hours making sure your lipgloss wasn't covered in crumbs and now that it has finally worn off your guard tends to come down as well. I live for those moments of connecting with an exposed soul. If you sit around long enough with me you'll see glimpses of my rawness as well. Side-note here: I would appreciate knowing if there were say lingering crumbs from a streusel- topped apple pie anywhere on my person so I could finish them off...</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">It sometimes makes me weary to have to explain myself, again, that I can relate to what you are going through even though I don't weigh in at 200 pounds. Between my anxiety trembling off some excess pounds and the few and far between days when I am the master of my ship I am able to keep up a fairly presentable appearance. If you could see the war that rages in my mind when I am contemplating finishing off a carton of ice cream you would see that I suffer just as you. You would see that I need you as much as you need me to daily get through this battle.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: TrebuchetMS;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">This past year I have seen the depths of my sinful nature plunge to an entirely new level of debris and dirt. I am in shock at the thoughts I have thought, the words I have uttered and the way I have twisted circumstances to favor me as the one in the "right." Shame on me. I have a sort of barometer I use when picking a song to sing, I must have an emotional reaction to it if I am to sing it at all. Usually it's in the form of tears. I guess I am noticing the same thing when I write. Perhaps that's why I have put it off for so long, me not wanting to face truth and the need for a spirit-led change. I have finally gotten to the point in this blog where I am stirred. I am here in this moment touched by how beautiful God's grace is in comparison to how ugly my heart has been. With my words I speak of harboring bitterness for my fellow man and yet in the same breath I am asking you to love me in my sinful state. How very warped is that? Where is my forgiveness, my compassion? Have I learned nothing from the cross?</span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I think I finally realized why I despise making a definitive decision about anything. I don't want to be held responsible, no matter how good or bad or indifferent the outcome may be. I fear making a mistake and don't want to be held accountable for my actions. Hummm... am I really the only one that feels this way? </span></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Drip... drop.</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">My mind is constantly filled with random thoughts mixed with reality of life-changing scripture. My 7 year old made a profound statement the other day "you are always thinking something, you can never think of nothing." It's a challenge every day for me to choose to put in drops of truth and block out the drips of negativity. Little drips over time create a bigger puddle and then overflow occurs. I want my overflow to be of goodness and grace sprinkled with wisdom and beauty. I want my overflow to be used to benefit the kingdom instead of tearing it down. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Drip...drop. One droplet at a time...</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
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</div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-50524433936593731792009-11-26T17:34:00.032-05:002009-12-02T01:17:52.089-05:00True Confessions: Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-Jcv5Q3FpkOM_w9S4ZK80SzNY5zLspDJE_NYVtKsBtSlal6v0q_mayDqwI9_papMzrBLpOnc4LxNgkrBv9_YeNNzqlbIGeI9NofQkcgblgGDzTWIIHPcYvqG2OpoDKrkSboERG4ojYY/s1600/PB180742.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-Jcv5Q3FpkOM_w9S4ZK80SzNY5zLspDJE_NYVtKsBtSlal6v0q_mayDqwI9_papMzrBLpOnc4LxNgkrBv9_YeNNzqlbIGeI9NofQkcgblgGDzTWIIHPcYvqG2OpoDKrkSboERG4ojYY/s320/PB180742.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408581613289867122" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-RLQ7ii2iqADH7OoE4DmLAqHZk7TYv9-e97PgX7uVwft3QISM7W0lMoLo8ehbuoWL2LGl_Jq8yqyeyibTeI77etmHWAICq0JJjsljAzct1XGFQydnBsHGXdjCkagWuH95IufNOHUelY/s1600/PB180742.JPG"></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size:48px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This is the first in what may become a regular series for me. Me, how I am doing this minute. I was contemplating my honesty or rather my lack of being completely open since beginning this blog. I was looking backwards and thinking about how I always have to have everything perfectly worded, exposing only that which I want you to see, guarding what's close to my heart, not letting you see all the dirt, the grime. I wrap each writing up in a pretty little package, hopeful that I can just stare at that package and not have to open it up and painfully learn that nugget all over again... I have never considered myself to be a teacher- type but when I stumbled across Sara Groves describing her new album she summed up what I have been wrestling with these past few days. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"I tried not to teach on this album," she (Sara Groves) explains. "And I'm a natural-born teacher. I turn everything into a lesson--for myself, for the people around me. That's how I process my life, that's how I learn... I'm trying to be more confessional..."</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubkr4oG-KRBd-2oJ39D2FuWAMaOre5Tch433sY5dB3gATJA9RkqPndpUrLCc1y2kbALu0I73_4N2ibnr5d-gRQ4VxKaHCiMRbUFv7osqyAmFI0_GtLN3X6xuY94sOeEVwyPOHJnm5cD4/s1600/PB180742.JPG" style="text-decoration: none; "></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Here I am itchy, rashed, and puffed all over, exposing my heart, my face. I am seeking not to process and come to the fairy tale ending, but to share today what pains me, what is breaking me down- how it is to struggle with only one shoe on not knowing when your prince will come and save you out of your misery. </span></span></div></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizj6_mHa8O_EJniilX4L-DrxSN8ABFdEQngGVJ6YDX0cmF_pz0hDfm5gi6L136ftvtj9zISP_m2bL6FrwbcX2Hgx08pYMopMwghPkVITSkySNleGK60YQ3jXxC0tPzttX_OfoFEpOIaTc/s1600/PA090480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizj6_mHa8O_EJniilX4L-DrxSN8ABFdEQngGVJ6YDX0cmF_pz0hDfm5gi6L136ftvtj9zISP_m2bL6FrwbcX2Hgx08pYMopMwghPkVITSkySNleGK60YQ3jXxC0tPzttX_OfoFEpOIaTc/s400/PA090480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408576608993849778" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Last month I went and had some allergy testing done. Found out I am allergic to dust mites. Not sure if that's what is causing the flare ups that I keep having. Seeing the layers of dust around here it may very well be... This last one began Sat. evening. First came the itch, then the swelling. Now I have a rash. I am on some medications but they are not helping. I repeat: THEY ARE NOT HELPING. I want to claw off my skin. It burns. This time around it's blistering. I am becoming frustrated dealing with the same things. Not knowing how it's all going to end. Test after test, prick after prick.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size:17px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">How ironic that when I am struggling with anger I pick up a book and start reading where I left off over a year ago only to find that the chapter deals with anger. How is it that when I finally sit down to process changes taking place all around me with neighbors moving and old comforts slipping away that just days afterwards I find myself working through a deeper process of change that I never saw coming? Familiar, well-worn friends no longer a major part of my story. Feelings of abandonment, mourning the loss of individuals who have listened to me as I shared my joys and offered me tissues when the sorrows swelled my eyes. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Looking for a friend: Someone who is easy on the eyes, laughs at what I find amusing and will be quiet and listen without interrupting or passing judgment whenever I need to talk. I will be terribly jealous if your house is bigger than mine but I still wouldn't mind being invited over once in awhile. I don't make conversation easily and depending on what mood I am in I may or may not want to answer your questions. I find that I am very manipulative and critical as well as controlling. I would appreciate you calling or emailing me just to see if I'm ok. I probably won't pick up the phone but just knowing that you thought enough of me to call would mean the world to me. For my part I will wear your hardships in my soul and rejoice when good finds a home with you. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Since this is "true confessions" I don't have an agenda for this writing, nor an ending point at which I will wrap it all up. I just have my mind and my fingers working overtime trying to keep up with my thoughts. When I can't sleep I write letters to people in my mind. Letters that never get written, but it sure feels good finally putting into words what I really want to tell others. Most of them are letters of encouragement telling individuals how they have blessed my life. After the letters are written in air I fall asleep, peacefully. Which reminds me, I still have half my thank you notes to write from my wedding gifts. Not sure if the grace period extends past 13 years.</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Today I am weary. I am vain. I don't want to puff anymore. Today I am pained for a friend who is watching her father slip away. Today I am wondering how it is that I am so full while others are going to bed hungry.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">"From This One Place"</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I was about to give up and that's no lie</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">cardinal landed outside my window</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">threw his head back and sang a song</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">so beautiful it made me cry</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">took me back to a childhood tree</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">full of birds and dreams</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">from this one place I can't see very far</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">in this one moment I'm square in the dark</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">these are the things I will trust in my heart</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">You can see something else</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">something else</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I don't know what's making me so afraid</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">tiny cloud over my head</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">heavy and grey with a hint of dread</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I don't like to feel this way</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">take me back to a window seat</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">with clouds beneath my feet...</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">~ Sara Groves</span></span></span></div></span>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-8342615990690369832009-09-25T20:42:00.026-04:002009-09-27T17:59:26.053-04:00Living in a fishbowl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNrLJCALXrYC2vVsLaDsoGw_hux5TOoROithWvVmprheMU9611DyhpL-qMh78WNCWEm_iHFDZeX99ih_KM73pO8byzEpbAwwj7Q8nMMoA4E-BzniGok2hc7boI2HktL1hRT2AzaaLaxCw/s1600-h/P9200003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385570343309541730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNrLJCALXrYC2vVsLaDsoGw_hux5TOoROithWvVmprheMU9611DyhpL-qMh78WNCWEm_iHFDZeX99ih_KM73pO8byzEpbAwwj7Q8nMMoA4E-BzniGok2hc7boI2HktL1hRT2AzaaLaxCw/s400/P9200003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">IT IS SO EASY TO PRESUME THAT WHILE YOUR OWN WORLD HAS GROUND TO AN ABSOLUTE HALT, SO HAS EVERYONE ELSE'S.</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">~ excerpt from </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">My Sister's Keeper </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">(page 79)</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Two years ago I was in the church parking lot waiting for my son, my oldest, my firstborn. Earlier in the day he had been whisked away with a carload of other kids to the church camp about 40 minutes away. I look up to spot my Pastor and his family. They came to relay a message to a non-cell phone carrying person (myself) that my son had been involved in an accident, "A bottle shattered and a piece of glass hit his head, there was a lot of bleeding, he's ok but they think he needs stitched up." His Aunt (who had been up at the camp for the day) was transporting him to a local hospital to get checked out. I tried to remain calm and outwardly act this way for my sanity and for the sake of not looking like an overprotective nervous mom in the presence of others. </span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I casually called the girls to come to the car from where they were playing on the lawn. From there on it was full speed ahead. Quick stop at home for an insurance card and then wait- stuck in traffic! NO!!!! The thoughts running through my head at that time were numerous and then some. I thought about me, my child, wondered how deep the wound was, was he scared, would my husband make it to the hospital in time to not only be a comfort to Caleb but to me as well? Fainting is more my body's response to blood than being present. The cars were moving but as if in slow motion. I wondered if they knew where I needed to be, if anyone cared that it wasn't a super sale that I was anxious about missing, that it was my son that needed me to be with him! I needed to be with him. My heart was beating out of my chest, willing the cars to move faster.</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What seemed like an eternity later I did end up at the hospital- ahead of my son even. Finally, in he comes, head bandaged up with dried blood caked on. He looked like a survivor. He had been crying and I could see the fear in his eyes. But, there was also a calmness about him as well. I knew at that point that life would continue on as normal after this little blip of 7 staples and having to endure wearing a swimming cap for swimming lessons the next week. It could have had a different ending, the glass could have cut deeper, or in his eye. The story would have played out differently than just an afternoon of inconvenience with another scenario. </span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Since that day I look at people driving along the road differently. I imagine where they are going, what awaits them at their destinations. I think twice when I hear an ambulance and try to put out of my mind the reason for the lights, the sirens. My heart skips a beat when I see the parking lot filled at the funeral home a couple streets over from where we live. It's so easy to get stuck in your own little fishbowl where you deal with only that which affects your personal space. Most of those days are spent dealing with basic survival tactics, taking in what each day brings and learning how to function in that realm. Most of my days are pretty ordinary, basic, transporting my children to their various activities while at the same time there are others living out a not so ordinary day. My normal is not the same as your normal. </span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I recently watched the movie <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Lorenzo's Oil</span> for the first time. I was struck by one scene in particular. Children were flooding the streets with uncontained excitement after being bottled up in school all day. Then the scene abruptly shifts to Lorenzo, unable to move, gagging on his own saliva. Right outside his house children were laughing and playing. The irony in it. All day, every day, there are hurts in the world, around us, maybe right next door to us. People living out "abnormal" days, weeks, months, years even while the world goes on as usual. The mail doesn't stop coming just because your life is in crisis mode. I learned this 2 years ago as I raced to the hospital to deal with my not so ordinary day.</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Through what happened with my son I learned that I can endure more than I thought I could. My mind went into preservation mode as I was able to take some pictures of him as he waited in the emergency room, blood and all. I also learned that my son will go through some hard things that will strengthen him and open his eyes to the world beyond our fishbowl, which might include pain, to teach him empathy. This was one of those times. </span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-41548979039486490862009-09-18T10:16:00.032-04:002010-01-08T12:08:35.630-05:00Read the fine print<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuUbNAvx-4JcAuCTUUexYko5EjFQsWoOFoMnFf-LW_sfjEyIKLI-IzW-3YDchAVN5vgz4GdGUY2nZYdIMEK2Sjpfta15Vx56sxC_yabNCFldVgTD8tzOjD-OVxhJY3THFQ37PA6KPL4g/s1600-h/P8022346.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuUbNAvx-4JcAuCTUUexYko5EjFQsWoOFoMnFf-LW_sfjEyIKLI-IzW-3YDchAVN5vgz4GdGUY2nZYdIMEK2Sjpfta15Vx56sxC_yabNCFldVgTD8tzOjD-OVxhJY3THFQ37PA6KPL4g/s400/P8022346.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382836116273619298" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I did it, well almost. I went back to a place where I had previously left with my head held down in shame. I had been working up the courage for weeks now, practicing avoidance the best I knew how. Then yesterday I told them, my children, we would be stopping by... the library. We, meaning all of us. The girls asked me if they could finally get some books, again. It had been quite a few weeks since I stepped inside. Fear, that my face would be remembered, the incident that I caused would come quickly to the mind of the nice librarian who had just been doing her job.<br /></span></div></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Let me back up a bit. My husband thought it was time to get away, take a trip, and off he went someplace with a hotel because he had work to do away from home. He was gone for 4 days. During this time period I had to return some library books. Not too hard seeing as the library is right in town, a 5 minute walk away. It could have been right out my front door and I still wouldn't have been able to return the books on time during this particular week. I told my husband my predicament, that I would not be able to get to the library before the books were due. He said to wait until Thursday when you could return books for "free" and not have to pay a fine. Ok, being the most dutiful, husband honoring wife that I am I obeyed, and waited until Thursday. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We ended up getting to the library around 3 that Thursday. Caleb went to return/check out his books. The very respectable librarian said that he had incurred a fine. I said "What? My husband told me to wait until today to return the books because it was a forgiveness day of sorts." The answer I was given is that you need to come in during happy hour times- which occur after 5 on Thursdays. At this point it was around 3:30. I politely pointed out the time to her and asked if there was any way that she could wave the late fees because it was almost 5. Her response, "No, I already checked in the books." Could I get the books back out and wait here til 5 to return them? No, they were already checked back into the system. There was no budging on this. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Ok, to be fair to myself I need to back up even further in the story. The day before Andy left town we discovered a note on our door. This note said that our water would be turned off the next day if we didn't pay up! My caring husband then proceeded to print out copies of bills to show they were paid on time and in full so I would be armed with "evidence". I had to be up and out the door early the next day, unable to call about the notice before I left. On the way home I stopped at the post office to pick up the mail. I discovered a letter about insufficient funds in our bank account and bills not being paid??!! What??! My pot was full and about to boil over. Thankfully, after making a few phone calls it was cleared up for me that the notice was put on the wrong door and the bank didn't need to send out the letter that it did. It was a mix up, a blooper! It did set the tone for the rest of the week as far as being uncertain what else would turn up that would cause me to stress more than usual without my husband there to help me...</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Back to finish the library story which I'm sure you are quite anxious to see how it resolved itself. The librarian pointed out the sign to me that was at this point right in front of me on the counter. Funny, I didn't remember it being in such a prominent place before. It had the happy hour times listed. I tried again, this time my voice picking up strength, begging to no avail, telling her about having to care for my children for a week by myself, the bank and water issues that put strain on my worried mind and how I was just following my husband's orders about returning the books on Thursday and everything would be ok. It wasn't. At this point I was getting no sympathy and I was about to lose it. I excused myself to the bathroom before I could cause myself anymore embarrassment. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">When I got back from the bathroom Caleb told me that the lady behind us in line had paid our fines. That's when I really lost it. I was really crying at this point, not just show tears meant to bring about sympathy anymore but actual tears of remorse for my actions. Me, supposedly a warrior in God's army, breaking at the thought of having to spend Panera Bread money for overdue library books and fighting as hard as I could because I thought I deserved a break. I didn't. I should have learned to read the fine print and put into practice a spirit of humility when I learned that I was incorrect. Instead, a stranger took on that role as she saw a confused person who shouldn't have been left alone to care for 3 children, needing a helping hand. She won the brownie points that day. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Yesterday, my first day back in there to face my fears. Kids in tow, books ready to hand over and I stopped mid- stride. There she was. I couldn't do it. I feigned interest in what books the kids had picked out, trying to time it so another librarian would be free to help me. "Go now," I said as I was practically racing to the counter! We reached the counter just as another librarian stepped up to help. This is what happens when you have too much time to think about yourself and what you have done in your past, good or bad. You start believing that you are important to everyone else, that they actually remember you and what you have done and said. I need to get over it. The librarian has probably long since moved on from the memory of a hysterical lady in front of her throwing a tantrum because she didn't want to play by the rules. Yet, I can dream, right- that I am slightly important enough that I will be remembered? </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Someday I may have to tell you all about the Eagle's Nest incident. That also involved a stressed mom without her husband for the week, needing to dump her kids somewhere, anywhere that wouldn't involve getting arrested. The Nest was full, had to wait, was told I </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">could</span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> put my name on the list. The condensed version involves more people coming and putting their names on the list and me, still waiting, because I did not put my name on the list. Didn't know you couldn't just wait by the wall, I mean I was there, the list people weren't. Had to wait and keep waiting. Poor girl was just following the rules as she called the people on the list ahead of me. I finally broke down and put my name on the list as I was realizing that just holding up the wall with my 3 kids and my tears would not get me in...</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Realizing that sometimes you just can't manipulate to get your way. Oh, that sounds so very grown-up. I sure have a lot to learn, which includes reading the fine print. It may be worth reading if it can save me the embarrassment from having future public tantrums. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-66363506332080697722009-09-16T13:04:00.032-04:002010-12-21T11:53:55.280-05:00Prepared for such a time<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">n the Lord of the Rings Frodo states his displeasure over having to be responsible for the ring, for having to play his part in destroying evil. The path was hard and conflicting for him to travel on. Frodo was afraid and wishes he'd never been chosen to destroy the ring...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">"So do I", said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time given us."</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Such simplicity in Gandalf's reply yet the the repercussions are numerous. We don't have a choice at times what falls into our lap, whether hardships or blessings will enter our days. We do have a choice though as to how to view our hardships and what our response will be.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I am currently struggling with a heavy burden upon my shoulders. I am trying to figure out "community" and what that means to me, our church, and how I see myself fitting in to it all. The whole realm of worship, encouraging, rebuking and uplifting other believers in the faith. There is so much turmoil swirling about my church congregation. In the midst of it is a broken Pastor who is filled with such anguish as to how to lead his sheep. Through the chaos and confusion I find myself searching. Searching my soul to see what church should mean to me. Am I to give up a community that has been my home for 11 years because the unknowns are too hard to bear? Should I move on because my eyes are tempted by all that glitters?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I have found myself longing, more than usual, wanting something more. I weep for those who have left our small congregation. I too have had those same thoughts over the years. For many years now I have fought my own battles of the flesh, my desires, wanting to be worshipping in a place that offers me something different. I am trying desperately to separate out what I believe are my worldly ambitions so that I can recognize them as being false gods. There are days when I don't want to bend down and serve, to wash another's feet. My flesh desires to be in a place where am I served, where my needs are met. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Many questions have risen in my mind over the weeks. Just because your weaknesses and faults are finally found out by others does that discredit you from serving? How long before being given up on and others begin to call you unfit? One of my many fears over the years is that it will be found out that I have a great, great many faults and I sin, over and over again. Each time wanting it to be the last. Praying that I will overcome my sinful nature. At what number does a fellow believer come to me and say, "please don't sing again, your faults are too numerous." My heart would be shattered to pieces. Grateful, yes, that I could finally be open about the great sinner that I am but broken that I could no longer serve the God that I know with the voice that I know can only be from Him.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">"Now therefore, fear the Lord and serve Him in sincerity and truth; and put away the gods which your fathers served... and serve the Lord.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">If it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the Lord, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve... but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">For the Lord our God is He who brought us up out of the land of Egypt... and who did these great signs in our sight and preserved us through all the way in which we went..."</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Joshua 24: 14-17</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I find that with each new trial that comes my way I can see how the Lord prepared me ahead of time. When the trial has passed I can look back and see how I was carried through by His strong hand. Even knowing that, I still don't like trials or seek them out if I can help it. My initial response is to fight my reality by lashing out at others or running away and hiding. When Andy's brother died I did not want Andy and I to be prepared to walk that path, yet we were and it happened. As are the current struggles that fill my days, I don't want to come to grips with them, but I need to. The Lord has been preparing me for such a time as this. I have choices to make. I could choose to act on my hurt and anger. I could choose to run away to that which beckons my senses or I could stay and work to love my community. I am working through what it is that I serve, whom I serve. Is He worthy of my service? Of forsaking my desires for His? Yes, and He beckons me to come...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Choose</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Let me be in love with what You love</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Let me be most satisfied in You</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Forsaking all the world has offered me</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I choose to be in love with You</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I will choose to be in love with You</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Let me know the peace that's mine in You</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Let me know the joy my heart can sing</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">For I have nothing Lord apart from You</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I choose to call on Christ in me</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I will choose to call on Christ in me</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">For in the fullness of who You are</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I can rest in this place</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">And giving over this, my journey Lord</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I see nothing but Your face</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Let me know that You have loved me first</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Let me know the weight of my response</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">For you have long pursued my wandering heart</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I choose to glory in Your cross</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I will choose to glory in Your cross</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">And I bow down...</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Humbly I bow down...</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">My beloved- here I am</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">I bow down to you...</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">~Christy Nockels</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><br />
</div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-56739503954805522282009-08-19T19:15:00.021-04:002009-08-20T10:26:47.950-04:00Embracing the fire<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGptTNvD4fwAJejxg8hoZcPKMvYGo-xobp3keiVy7UcL2mzOK7bXlHode1FNqR9-_q3ndV82_IZNgOrQLTuyQ4Jf0XflWjiMmEZnO5uMoAuvwX5MbsjRKQO36RIXRR1TQobC9wtAcC-Pw/s1600-h/P8092420.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGptTNvD4fwAJejxg8hoZcPKMvYGo-xobp3keiVy7UcL2mzOK7bXlHode1FNqR9-_q3ndV82_IZNgOrQLTuyQ4Jf0XflWjiMmEZnO5uMoAuvwX5MbsjRKQO36RIXRR1TQobC9wtAcC-Pw/s400/P8092420.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371824613054702002" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">I survived another day celebrating my birth. It went more or less how I expected. Moriah had her melt-down before I had mine. Literally, the candle I placed on her part of the cake melted into a stream. Then the sobbing began. Andy tried to console her as I took pictures of the melted little smiley guy. <br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">All day the kids were asking when they could sing to me and eat the cake they had so lovingly made by themselves, from start to finish. I finally partially consented. I let them put the candles in the cake, early. All 34 of them. Well, only 30 to start with because Moriah didn't want anymore on the part of the cake that she had decorated. She screamed as her siblings tried to poke them into her corner. Caleb insisted through his restrained tears that the rest of the cake would crumble if the remaining few had to be put elsewhere. I finally did manage to get permission for 2 more to be put in her corner. I found spots for the other 2. The cake did not crumble.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">I have to wonder if part of Moriah knew what would happen. The wax from the candles would melt, clinging to the icing. Removal of the wax would then mean that part of the sweet goodness of icing attached to it would be removed as well. Therefore, resulting in slightly less sweet topping for her to enjoy. In the case of the melting smiley face it was quite a bit of icing that had to removed. Maybe Moriah was trying to avoid the pain of losing something she viewed as good. She had a perfectly frosted section of cake, untarnished by many holes and melted wax. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">How easy it is for me to resist giving over my stuff, myself, to be molded for a greater purpose. How easy it is for me to want to hold on and naively pretend that this is as good as it gets. To not see that I have become lukewarm in my faith...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Because you say, "I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing," and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, I advise you to buy from Me gold refined by fire so that you may become rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself, and that the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed; and eye salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline; therefore be zealous and repent.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Revelation 3:17-19</span><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">I want to know that I am loved, as painful as it is. I have learned that my Master and keeper of my days is shaping me with His fire. If I knew how these last few years would have played out in my life ahead of time I would have said "no thank you". No thank you to the lessons learned by trial. No thank you to being burned. No thank you to the hot wax being poured onto my soul, stripping away what I thought was good in my life. It hurts. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">My youngest did a smart thing by requesting the least amount of candles to be placed into her part of the cake. She did a brave thing by consenting to have more. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:11px;"><div class="text_wrapper" style="display: block; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; margin-right: 23px; "><br /></div></span></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-7857033218189731922009-08-12T13:14:00.024-04:002009-10-09T14:44:05.073-04:00Passage of time<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRntP-gMpj6dm7Ok8SqHIvw-HM2c8zooDPjagBi4cIJwSJqlUHguuTfp5zweuVuRW0qq6gABhT6CYC5xT7Q7-xW7oGTi15fXakFCn9L3pyLI_exJLTw3g2OKvEpMieS2jFsioxW6msQQ/s1600-h/P8052372.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRntP-gMpj6dm7Ok8SqHIvw-HM2c8zooDPjagBi4cIJwSJqlUHguuTfp5zweuVuRW0qq6gABhT6CYC5xT7Q7-xW7oGTi15fXakFCn9L3pyLI_exJLTw3g2OKvEpMieS2jFsioxW6msQQ/s400/P8052372.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369130690269682818" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">Another year, another candle to blow out. As is always the case around my birthday I start thinking about time. This week I took the kids with me to sing happy birthday to a friend turning 71. She was never married, has no children, though she still has many siblings left. She started with 11, down a few now. We got to talking about farms and tractors. She remembers a time when horses were used to work the fields. Change. <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">This summer has been filled with many changes. Most frustrating would be having our favorite restaurant changing owners. It was a place that Andy and I started going to years ago, to celebrate our marriage. Many memories in our almost yearly visits. I remember going there when I was days away from giving birth to our first-born. Special place. Only once did we take the kids there, to celebrate Andy's parents anniversary. Not fancy, yet special because of the many extra touches. You could get a bottle of birch beer, read the menu off a chalkboard, wonder if the chairs at the next table over in the checkered pattern were more comfortable than yours, then proceed to tug on the flowers to check their authenticity. Picked from a garden they were! Change will be taking place with the new owners, I'm sure of it.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"CHANGE IS THE ONLY CONSTANT"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">Just a few days ago I discovered another familiar comfort gone. A favored entree taken off a menu. Then I went in to pick up some broccoli salad at the neighborhood grocery store. That too was gone, not being made anymore. When my brother was visiting he commented on his changing skin. What next? I am still getting used to my digital camera. The passage of time will ultimately affect change. Not sure if it's good or bad, perhaps only decided by our perception of it. With digital I can now take more, more, and more pictures. I don't have to dread reaching the number 36 and realizing that I am out of film. Now it's the batteries that I worry about... </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">Recently I heard my sister-in-law joke about how before she was married she spent more time with her husband to be than after they got married! Change. There are a few benefits of passing time. Diapers are no longer a part of my daily routine, nor trying to keep tiny hands away from every potential harm. I never imagined how I could love my children as much past the "cute" toddler stage. I'm finding that my love for them is growing even more as time lengthens their limbs. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Ecclesiastes 11:5<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">JUST AS YOU DO NOT KNOW THE PATH OF THE WIND AND HOW BONES ARE FORMED IN A PREGNANT WOMAN, SO YOU DO NOT KNOW THE ACTIVITY OF GOD WHO MAKES ALL THINGS.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">Time also has a healing factor to it. The pain doesn't sear as deep anymore when my memories of Jeff come up for air. I knew my life would change dramatically because of that accident. Almost 2 years have passed since that day. The day that I almost let bitterness take over my life. I knew at that moment that my husband would have to do more than his part to help keep the farm running. Time, giving me a different perspective. Time, allowing me to see the strength of my husband's character. Time, slowing eroding away all traces of bitterness.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">I'm not sure if I will be able to go to a space that held many a memory of times gone by with the walls painted a different color, chairs that match and a menu that doesn't carry anything that resembles the last sandwich that I ordered (which was ham, turkey and cheese with bacon and apple slices that came with a caramel dipping sauce). Perhaps, just perhaps if I let myself, I may discover it to be just as special a place. Perhaps I will also learn something about myself in the process. A way to grow, to adapt- to not hold on so tightly to that which is no more. Maybe I'll even better learn how to embrace all that the passage of time has to offer. That which makes my heart laugh along with that which causes my arms to tremble.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><div><br /></div><div></div></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-45200376283283130512009-07-27T14:57:00.035-04:002009-07-28T11:24:39.300-04:00Moments<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHyGUw5UyqqmAWBD7LVorJSD1Vy1a5LDdewEDDesv1OhttYSPoWzkHDUpVpLq0OAWccQ_hc2t3AEnGWMbln23FZIRUWknmrUswwJ3FdhvbV-JhvNQbQqRqNTalG7Y16SyU7el1kmfKyo/s1600-h/P5171980.JPG"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR77DF9BtdBdj29BycF5SMEueLlj0pjDCayrej5Oi2Yr1mSpn0id3QCnK2w8LMnfn3I2xf3bFsEvAzkqNL7X_u16AvryXpq0wQN97-MnOxgBkbCayw30fqvKSKVjdoqn11Epe7XGklJ3U/s1600-h/P5171979.JPG"></a><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLGPf0OZe3NUbL4MtW4f_eJkvxEEiPTs6O0JZDEl_cT6tMzLxf_AYLRuJqp-BSf28xkMN9R04aHkjDIzSIXELFbvncSoySHeiUm8MbSlm2TSyjDWRFJdYXwB0Koa3EgfoPqHm8qo_NUg/s1600-h/P6282107.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLGPf0OZe3NUbL4MtW4f_eJkvxEEiPTs6O0JZDEl_cT6tMzLxf_AYLRuJqp-BSf28xkMN9R04aHkjDIzSIXELFbvncSoySHeiUm8MbSlm2TSyjDWRFJdYXwB0Koa3EgfoPqHm8qo_NUg/s400/P6282107.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363219667727884802" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Pictures. I take so many. I'm not really sure why. The ones taken with 35mm film sit silently in boxes, rarely opened to see daylight. The digital forms that I have are waiting patiently on memory cards to be rediscovered, placed on our computer for viewing pleasure. A couple of times I have gone through the process to get tangible prints, not often though. That's alright. It's not really the end result that I so crave. It's the actual moment itself. I once read somewhere that to create a lasting imprint in your mind of a moment you need to focus on that moment for a specified matter of seconds. I must not have focused too long on what I was reading because I forget how many seconds were needed for the moment to become lasting in your mind... Hummm. I love the above moment captured on camera. We had just picked up Caleb from his week at camp and Riah was showing him the new space in her mouth. I remember being so incredibly full of joy to all be together again. So thankful for taking the time to imprint it in my mind. It brings back how misty eyed my 10 year old son was when I held him under my arm after being out of touch for 5 days. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Once I thought my camera was lost along with pictures that I would never have a chance to relive. For the days that I thought it was lost I retraced in my mind all the pictures that I had taken recently. I jotted them all down. After finding what I thought was lost I quickly viewed all of the pictures. Amazingly all of them were what I thought they would be. I hadn't missed a one. It was then that I realized that my memories were made and stored only by the time that I had taken to treasure them. I learned this lesson well by watching my father. He has spent his lifetime behind many a lens. He is fascinated by the wonders of this world and has chosen to capture it through a viewfinder. He may be the last one to exit a trail in the woods and you may even think yet once again you have lost him for good in a crowd- but it's OK. His family that knows and loves him wouldn't have it any other way. He continues to delight himself in the here and now so that we can all share in his memories. And perhaps if we are lucky we too can catch a glimpse of his awe for the wonders of God's creative genius. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCg37MzAEOwgHr4vtiVEwVnBDpJKpE9jTykKCpUEd17I9QfgBsb0OkxPr5qsRjoWZXRdtckmMEKRethZ8BIFoZplO_Xj7s2qIA5K93NGFgwGc4Lf50pDw3VwZBNndcOhPsf1WosFSgNRg/s1600-h/P1010652.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCg37MzAEOwgHr4vtiVEwVnBDpJKpE9jTykKCpUEd17I9QfgBsb0OkxPr5qsRjoWZXRdtckmMEKRethZ8BIFoZplO_Xj7s2qIA5K93NGFgwGc4Lf50pDw3VwZBNndcOhPsf1WosFSgNRg/s400/P1010652.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363219253122696258" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I may leave my house without my lip gloss or even my wallet, but you will never find me without my camera. I need all the help I can get to remind me to slow down, to savor time, to create a memory. Life is so very fleeting. But then again, I didn't need to remind you of that. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family:arial;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">I am choosing to get both feet wet</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Sd9shSDoMIi_m_rDoHVKnS6JKTxOW7pk-crkA3lfjgCueBHY6lbM3gKa39njUgvPf2AXBdlLLxiyAS1KRLJSn6XpmhFFpxWnV6Im7s8FS6uE064DlsS1VheiYdG2jGE_ZJ6CtI-pEuk/s1600-h/P1012142.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Sd9shSDoMIi_m_rDoHVKnS6JKTxOW7pk-crkA3lfjgCueBHY6lbM3gKa39njUgvPf2AXBdlLLxiyAS1KRLJSn6XpmhFFpxWnV6Im7s8FS6uE064DlsS1VheiYdG2jGE_ZJ6CtI-pEuk/s400/P1012142.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363216962093598162" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> by jumping in and FEELING every moment</span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWEv50h3dbHxlZZCq_O1ZgO8UimVcN0zhflRHbrL-4FPhZgoKWo8VXINqbeuOeosgYJZFoD6VwfNHyx1ELqqxgsD7I5d5NYB7JgubsPBb2D50SJfs-fZ_b7rdfxoM_TSGRq5pqnYxND0/s1600-h/P1012156.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWEv50h3dbHxlZZCq_O1ZgO8UimVcN0zhflRHbrL-4FPhZgoKWo8VXINqbeuOeosgYJZFoD6VwfNHyx1ELqqxgsD7I5d5NYB7JgubsPBb2D50SJfs-fZ_b7rdfxoM_TSGRq5pqnYxND0/s400/P1012156.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363216957856976706" /></a><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"> and seeing how they shape me </span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255); font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfF9isQ9Utei2yGNJGViMgWkekbMnW6W9_WwKvCJcLbolOlqtjXLFFEDjhzQhEYlmJvJovgEC87DxTBcPKHuiLHSfsDh7XmY51GOkFLUuJ4TZ34WNtn0SXAthLLJThbBrO5aDc-Dpw1lI/s400/P1012136.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363216969124313554" style="text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">and where they may take me.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-style: italic;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Lyrics from a song that Michael Card wrote for his children that echoes my heartbeat:<br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Reject the worldly lie that says,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">That life lies always up ahead,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Let power go before control becomes a crust around your soul,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Escape the hunger to possess,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">And soul-diminishing success,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">This world is full of narrow lives,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">I pray by grace your smile survives.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">For I would wander weary miles,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Would welcome ridicule my child,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">To simply see the the sunrise of your smile,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">To see the light behind your eyes,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">The happy thought that makes you fly,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Yes, I would wander weary miles,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">To simply see the sunrise of your smile.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Now close your eyes so you can see,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Your own unfinished memories,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Now open them, for time is brief,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Andy you'll be blest beyond belief,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Now glance above you at the sky,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">There's beauty there to blind the eye,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">I ask all this then wait awhile,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">To see the dawning of your smile...</span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHyGUw5UyqqmAWBD7LVorJSD1Vy1a5LDdewEDDesv1OhttYSPoWzkHDUpVpLq0OAWccQ_hc2t3AEnGWMbln23FZIRUWknmrUswwJ3FdhvbV-JhvNQbQqRqNTalG7Y16SyU7el1kmfKyo/s400/P5171980.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363230811053820610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR77DF9BtdBdj29BycF5SMEueLlj0pjDCayrej5Oi2Yr1mSpn0id3QCnK2w8LMnfn3I2xf3bFsEvAzkqNL7X_u16AvryXpq0wQN97-MnOxgBkbCayw30fqvKSKVjdoqn11Epe7XGklJ3U/s400/P5171979.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363230806881255234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px; " /></span></div></div></div></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-78925304680954792642009-06-20T18:58:00.026-04:002009-06-20T22:14:06.762-04:00Thankful my Father chooses to love<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Currently in an angry phase. Not sure what started it. It may have been my nearly new sandals not selling on Ebay, again. All I know is the anger came and has yet to leave. A few weeks ago we decided to attend a soccer game. A young friend we know from church was playing. On the way to the game we were going to stop by the store to freshen up my jewelry display. This turned into the first of a string of yelling days. I didn't realize until getting into the car that Andy needed to buy staples to finish off a display item and according to my time frame this would make us late. If you know me at all, I do not enjoy being late. Even thinking about the possibility that we would be late was enough to boil me. I was running on toxic anger fumes. I kept inhaling and decided I didn't want to replace the filter. I chose to remain in my state of anger. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">We got to the store with the staples. Almost to a parking spot but not before a man with a really long cart decided to cross our path. This man had lumber sticking out haphazardly with little plants precariously perched on top of his really, really long cart. He didn't know that it would have been best for him to have remained home that day, according to my anger meter. Andy, being the gentlemen he is waved him on to cross in front of our vehicle. I was thinking that the man would quickly wheel on out to his car never to be seen again. Wrong. We spotted an open spot two rows over. This happened to put us in route to following this man and his cart. At a snails pace we trailed behind him hoping to reach the spot before someone else did. Just about there and the cart stopped right in front of us. For some reason the man decided to leave it 2 parking places down from his vehicle in front of the only open spot for as far as the eye could see. He then proceeded to open up his trunk. Waiting we were, fake smile plastered on my face as I gave him the courtesy "take your time- it really is OK- I understand you have a lot going on at the moment- really don't need to get into the store at all today" look. Not sure if it was my anger that fueled us but we did end up eventually getting to the game on time.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">Today there is anger as I am yelling at the kids to find my bathing suit top. It's not a bikini top mind you. I'm hoping I cleared that up before your mind decided to entertain you with the vision of me in a little string thing. This is the full coverage deal. Seeing as the house is still pretty trashed, bins of clothing toppled out everywhere- the odds are pretty good that the top got tipped out of it's storage place at some point and time. I have the girls to thank for that. Earlier today Lily came down with a skirt on that she wore when she was a baby. Andy feeling vindicated as he says "see, I told you that was too big at the time". The girls like to dress themselves up along with dressing up anything that's stuffed or has movable parts. Angry again I did get when I realized that I was to blame. They destroy. I get weary of helping them pick up the pieces. So thankful that my heavenly Father does not grow weary of me. Swimming I may not be tomorrow as the top has so far not surfaced. Practicing a spirit of gentleness towards my children who share in my imperfections, I will be. At least that is my goal...</span></span></span></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_KPFVDRDMIPsRAZ0ftMpCt_1gaOUOinrVLrSnyMY_K-QzuIAHQjcWhzw2gHOy_8-9EUU4U0MG9UNWzKm9BLtp3CXUBDp5CQv6DzvAHuiscgJq3gMbUyjpCCgCkQjcZ4h8jHmzm5L1ZI/s1600-h/P1012213.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_KPFVDRDMIPsRAZ0ftMpCt_1gaOUOinrVLrSnyMY_K-QzuIAHQjcWhzw2gHOy_8-9EUU4U0MG9UNWzKm9BLtp3CXUBDp5CQv6DzvAHuiscgJq3gMbUyjpCCgCkQjcZ4h8jHmzm5L1ZI/s400/P1012213.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349564612434377714" /></a><br /><div><br /></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-25919181627510424982009-05-29T10:29:00.020-04:002009-08-29T00:42:25.877-04:00Beauty in the everyday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2-aDugDMnMcxgv6i7a9ReQ0vYHEux_2BVk1NgeWwyJvW39bvnOiR9zQBlamIe2OqLieXxZRkq-Xk5U0vY9kBOUo5Av6uNCvYIYMseZ9nNzvwzF0yCcAZeGXYAnhjNDH2gLP7HmVn-BE/s1600-h/P5201999.JPG"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXF5XEQqOFi27-vmTEqCJGBN7_71JB9y0j1CPIptCmg5obJxSojQhLBOEdrzoDtXLl6XG9RtvBO76gCkxYQCO6bS1MWCSvWNACEDi40bJXgu792MjeN44X2-XXAkqmZnCg0FV2Xv5DlFE/s1600-h/P5201999.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXF5XEQqOFi27-vmTEqCJGBN7_71JB9y0j1CPIptCmg5obJxSojQhLBOEdrzoDtXLl6XG9RtvBO76gCkxYQCO6bS1MWCSvWNACEDi40bJXgu792MjeN44X2-XXAkqmZnCg0FV2Xv5DlFE/s400/P5201999.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341340383813775282" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I gave it up. Spent months following a plan. Never allowing it to be fully realized, the potential it could have held for me. Feeling sorry for myself, wanting desperately to be able to rely on processed foods, the ease of picking something up to eat. Hungry all the time, fearing I would start to resemble a nut. I don't know when it happened. Slowly, other foods crept in. I gave myself permission to "just this time" eat something forbidden. Here I am again. Back to a place I didn't want to find myself. Eating to my hearts content. No self control. Filling up til I'm beyond full. I like feeling full. Even though it makes me sick. Back to thinking that it's just too hard to live otherwise. And then my thoughts are drawn to a friend who laid his 46 year old son to rest last week. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For 46 years my friend and his wife cared for a child that couldn't care for himself. Year after year he was asked when they would be putting their son into a home. List after list they placed their needy child on. Time after time this child's name would rise to the top. The answer given was always the same, the parents would say "not now". Looking in from the outside it seemed an insurmountable burden to bear. Caregivers needed round the clock for this child turned grown man. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My friend now weeps daily for the loss of the presence of his child. His one child that never left home. I thought it would be a burden he would be able to give up willingly when the time came. Freedom to not have to make plans around caregivers schedules. Yet my friend so misses his son who could light up a room with his smile, though he comprehended little he gave much life to those around him. My friend valued his son. My friend rose each morning and did what he had to do because he understood the value of one life. He woke up and did what he had to do in order to keep that one life living to his fullest potential. </span></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">When I put my life in perspective my daily struggles seem so minor. The inconveniences so small that challenge me. I often think what if I didn't have a choice as to how I lived? I don't have to rely on others for my everyday care. I have limbs that work. I am not confined by a wheelchair. I can choose when to eat, what to eat. Foods that will give me life or contribute to my mediocre state. I need to give up my idealistic thinking that I will eventually get to a place where living is easy, pain-free, where it doesn't take work to exist. I am blessed. I am blessed when I wake up in the morning and I can lift my legs out of bed. I am blessed when I am able to put a spoon to my mouth and chew. I am blessed. My friend was beyond blessed for seeing beauty in the everyday mundane tasks. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We come with beautiful secrets</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We come with purposes written on our hearts, written on our souls</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We come to every new morning</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Calling out the best of who we are</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And I want to add to the beauty</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To tell a better story</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I want to shine with the light</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">That's burning up inside</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It comes in small inspirations</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It brings redemption to life and work</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To our lives and our work</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It comes in loving community</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It comes in helping a soul find it's worth...</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">~Add to the Beauty by Sara Groves</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-66651626166698519382009-05-26T15:20:00.038-04:002010-12-21T17:50:34.429-05:00$40,000 should cover it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOBdcgwwOkfnGKSIwt9OVmZSnBYqeP7iZkEYk7ShTb3IJD1JSB1sz8mFEDU6F7moWEXVCr3s_YWSyzvcOI-GywAOtaoArPk4arNzzdnlDJwm8jM94yKKr_aa_WoBa6M3uoJXUhuMMUk4/s1600-h/P4231808_2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346611022945744226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOBdcgwwOkfnGKSIwt9OVmZSnBYqeP7iZkEYk7ShTb3IJD1JSB1sz8mFEDU6F7moWEXVCr3s_YWSyzvcOI-GywAOtaoArPk4arNzzdnlDJwm8jM94yKKr_aa_WoBa6M3uoJXUhuMMUk4/s400/P4231808_2.JPG" style="float: left; height: 320px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 239px;" width="298" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">Anyone, anyone, </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">$40,000 to spare</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">The house across town is up for sale.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">Covet, Lord, I can't pretend not to</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">though I'd have to give up my dream of a basement-</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666; font-family: 'lucida grande';">at least the kind that has no spiders</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">dropping their spun webs down from the beams surrounding your head</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666; font-family: 'lucida grande';">threatening to choke you as you power along your treadmill walk... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666; font-family: 'lucida grande';">There is a dining room with space big enough</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">to feed those who just might wander in,</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">stairs that lead to rooms where you can stand up tall,</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">gathering spots that give you room to breathe-</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666; font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666; font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">did I mention the kitchen? </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">It's open and airy</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">and I'm certain something that resembles a dishwasher </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">(that isn't named Andy, Caleb, Lily or Moriah).</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666; font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">With each passing day as the kids grow a head taller</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">I have to reign in my frustrations of how smaller</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">our house appears with each minute and hour.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">The master bedroom that can't be off limits </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">as it leads to the attic which houses our son</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">along with boxes of stuff I can't seem to part with.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">7 years ago this house seemed so perfect,</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">now awaiting a miracle to beam me up out of here!</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">Venting, yes I am venting before I implode, </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">before the memories assault me and my willpower gives out</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">and stuck here forever we will be,</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">in our tiny little house</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">filled to the brim with love-</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">though peering inside you will see a wife, who is also a mother</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">brewing over what might have been</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;">with your simple investment of $40,000. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #336666;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div><br />
</div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-58715035656160447382009-05-15T12:37:00.030-04:002009-08-29T18:41:04.230-04:00Learning to breathe amidst the clutter<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9V_58m0CrU5mwwu7VbTq27ddONWWQmT59zsMUuax9myTVRg8PioTheId2dgXmzvmPCvVihXl-LjMqUyX2SrQfKv_6kL6M5z3EmD60txv6JeM17PHxM9RUYgCM02UOhm5JUGNNJuvTd4/s320/P3261702.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336107099174289842" /><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-EQiv94_PlqSzglG8iuSXu2FsOvsEzIboo1-N2n3hO-FytBlsyoDdozi73R8JbnKZMk-BGc2loRr4hP5b5ns0k2nowas4Kaw44R-BKPwxFpy2IgBBMAhDDGshLqfIS9mVIRHc838Z67U/s320/P3261700.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336106371315029842" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR4r7JgR4JNdDiPF8GkTTIOP4OVirT9efZmJGOSE6inQWXudWQtQA_Qlik9uz7NB0cu6CaWMMiCD4INYMsvNM-KYXkvuyfTv7-t2LcM9xgCiRDZFDknUXQRpDLHG5NX6mVc-7wlqaMQoU/s1600-h/P3261705.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR4r7JgR4JNdDiPF8GkTTIOP4OVirT9efZmJGOSE6inQWXudWQtQA_Qlik9uz7NB0cu6CaWMMiCD4INYMsvNM-KYXkvuyfTv7-t2LcM9xgCiRDZFDknUXQRpDLHG5NX6mVc-7wlqaMQoU/s400/P3261705.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336106651254367890" /></a><div><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">Sitting here paralyzed by a video I took last night. Lily's dress rehearsal for her dance recital. I can't stop rewinding. I wasn't thinking and I ended up sitting on the wrong side to get the ending pose. I can barely see the back of her head through the smiling happy faces of the other 3 ballerinas. My heart aches to not have been able to share the vision of that moment. Seeing that final expression on her face after months of practicing, living her dream. I am currently contemplating breaking the rules by taping the ending during the real performance, from the other side! Stuff like this sits like mold in my brain. Causing the plumbing to back up. Certain days I play over and over in my mind. One incident that happened months ago still haunts me when I least expect it. I chose to ignore a plea for help. The plea was from someone that I was feeling wasn't worthy of my time, my help, my sacrifice. I was dressed up, feeling pretty. I didn't want to do anything that I thought would "dirty" me in any way. How hypocritical of me. To not help a fellow human being because I didn't want to get my hands dirty. My home is currently in a state of utter chaos, dirty upon dirty. I was asked for help and did nothing. Instead I chose to watch from my high and mighty perch to see how it all played out. That situation caused the person asking for help to feel shut out, unwanted by an entire community. It caused my heart to feel more stained than I ever thought possible. When did I become so cruel? When did I stop caring? When did I start believing that I am more valuable than someone else? Is there forgiveness that can span the amount of dirt that I have shoveled upon my heart? </span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">I have recently begun reading a blog that sets my jealously all a flutter. The words this particular blogger uses are like brushstrokes on a canvas. Word pictures for the soul. When you don't think that light could penetrate any further inside- it does. It finds the parts that are dark, opens them up and heals them. The words take you away to a place where pains are soothed- connects you back to the Savior. I find myself gasping for breath when I read the entries. Swallowing back the lump that has formed in my throat (partly because of my enlarged thyroid but mostly because of the process of tears forming). I yearn for the wisdom that this writer has, the ability to affect, to find forgiveness. Perhaps it's because my connection with my heavenly Father has been so short circuited recently on my part. I yearn to have such faith.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">How easy for me to somehow come up with a crazy system in my mind of how I measure up. IF our home is clean and IF I make a meal, then I am worthy of my wife status. IF I finish teaching my girls how to read, then I can claim my mom title. Breathe, I tell myself. In and out. Keep at it. Repeat. Relish the moment. The security I have in my Father. My 8 year old ballerina has mastered the art of living in the moment. Living to her is now. Sure she looks forward to special days with anticipation but in the meantime it's all about what her hands are touching, her eyes are seeing. A rock isn't just a rock to her. It's a shape to be explored, maybe even painted or given away as a precious jewel. A path is meant to be followed, a hill to be rolled down, a stream to be splashed in, a creeping crawling critter outfitted with a container for a home, sticks and all... </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">Because it's mid afternoon and I haven't eaten a meal or done anything except write this entry, I need to leave you now but not until I type a few more words. Words from another artist who inspires me. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"There is Nothing" by Laura Story</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Lord, I come before You to honor and adore You</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For who You are and all that You have done.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Lord, I am not worthy; my heart is dark and dirty.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Still, somehow, You bid for me to come.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So clothe me, humility;</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Remind me that I come before a King.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And there is nothing, there is nothing</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">More precious, more worthy.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">May I gaze deeper; may I stay longer.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">May I press onward to know You, Lord...</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-30168973434864575982009-05-12T13:53:00.014-04:002009-06-13T16:58:55.314-04:00Wake up only to find that you are still snoring<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAR-Banmqb_72qmRMZZWEMtuT9IMTGNNutBVpf12Pm4EwvhkJQ3YQHBD_hJ1eLJQDZCME09dDajIN6Bda1CuaGuszS_MLpY4A_KNDQZ4fUehPLxWRCvVzagVvBb9S24G0qDmWDIEqsRg/s1600-h/P4291840.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAR-Banmqb_72qmRMZZWEMtuT9IMTGNNutBVpf12Pm4EwvhkJQ3YQHBD_hJ1eLJQDZCME09dDajIN6Bda1CuaGuszS_MLpY4A_KNDQZ4fUehPLxWRCvVzagVvBb9S24G0qDmWDIEqsRg/s400/P4291840.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335003488828013842" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">On May 4th my husband and I celebrated 13 years of marriage. Pretty amazing he has stuck by my side all these years. So thankful to have his steady, unwavering support. He has only used kind and uplifting words when describing me. My dear husband recently declared to me that I should try breathe right strips. He said I have started snoring, again. Or perhaps it is that I never stopped snoring and only now is he noticing it after all this time. </span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">There were times over the years that loving people with good intentions would comment on this "problem" that I had- college roommates, people I shared a room with during retreats, a family member who will remain nameless that chose to sleep on a sofa (while pregnant) just to get away from the offending snorer. I never really viewed it as my problem seeing as I was sleeping through it just fine! There never seemed to be anything that I should be doing to correct it. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">When Andy and I were first married he mentioned my snoring in passing a few times but that was it. He is a very sound sleeper. I assumed this "problem" had managed to resolve itself. In light of this new revelation that Andy is hearing me snoring again for whatever reason, I may just have to give those strips a try. It's a marriage after all. After 13 years I still struggle with wanting to take more than I give. It's a small thing, but it's a choice that I can make to show my husband that I value him and his advice. </span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-22634634443604537892009-03-13T10:53:00.013-04:002009-05-13T12:10:36.415-04:00Why I do what I do<span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Below is a post that I wrote in March and the perfectionist in me said to wait and work on it some more. Then the procrastinator in me put off working on it for 2 months. Finally the pride inside of me drifted away and said "this needs to be posted- don't delay". <br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Why do I pray- do I pray to say I prayed an hour?</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Why do I love- do I want you beholden to me?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Why do I help- do I want to hear my name called?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Why do sing?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Search me and know my heart, oh God.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">See if there is any wrong thing in me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">All I have really wanted are clean hands and a pure heart."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">~Sara Groves (Know my Heart)</span><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Above are lyrics from an artist that is dear to me. That song reached into my core, especially so because I've made many of my ministries very open for public view! Why do I do what I do? Is it to be noticed? To edify others? To have people tell me that I am good at something? To find worth? All of these questions and more I am constantly seeking to answer, honestly.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCZpIss6UjO3k-8r2PdnlSQgawFG7Y8s7RewgwS_CuS8JwzToBASin_cszxpf67zWocAQdrCMNZOlfGpU0Pb2X1d_K3B9hNzlIJhTv0w6PVv4OlZxIpZ-SGourztl-syl_SPlTgV5hr0/s200/P1012201.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312686170914706722" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last fall when I was considering starting my own jewelry line I struggled with so many thoughts. Do I really think that I am any good? Would anyone buy anything? I'm just putting stuff together, not even making anything from scratch, I'm not a true artist. It was about that time that we headed out to see Michelle Tumes in concert. Small, small church. We sat maybe 6 rows back. Beautiful, soft spoken Australian lady. She is such an amazing song writer. Able to compose for an entire orchestra. Such a person with her talent and here she was in a small church taking time to minister to me. She has had her own struggles with sharing her songs publicly, wondering how people would view her music that she had poured her heart into. Then she realized that it didn't matter. This was what God had given her to do. She had songs that she needed to share and opportunities eventually opened up for her to do so.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This encouraged me as I thought about my business, my writing. I have such a need to share. I am fearful at times that people will misunderstand me, my motives. I am fearful that at times my motives aren't what they should be or that I will fail in someway. The truth is I am terrified of opening myself up for public scrutiny. I know others will see right through to my imperfections and question what right I have to serve. I serve the Creator of the universe. I truly believe that. The Creator of the stars, the flowers, the fish in the sea. Have you been to a pet store lately to see some of His unique creations? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I believe that the desires I have in me to create are from Him. I can't say that I "enjoy" the process of creating, of actually writing, or performing a song. I tremble at the thought of standing before others ready to share my vision through song, at standing behind a table with my designs spread out for people to see, of organizing my photographs for others to view and even now sitting at a computer typing my rampant thoughts knowing they will eventually be read by another set of eyes. I think surely there are others that do these things so much better, why do I spend my hours toiling away on what will not last? There are days when I have to will my mind and hands to work... because I know the toll it takes on my body. It takes work- most of it in my mind, pushing aside my fears. Yet, it's what I am compelled to do. </span></div></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-5292849202661366692009-03-11T15:51:00.011-04:002009-06-13T16:56:18.155-04:00SIGN UP TO RECEIVE MY BLOGS VIA EMAIL<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Here it is, the final word. I will no longer be sending out group emails or notification links. I finally figured out the easiest way for me to handle it in a non-stressful or added steps way. I recently subscribed to be on Elanas Pantry email list. I looked at my confirmation email and noticed it was run by FeedBurner. To make this as short as possible I was able to put FeedBurner on my blog site so I no longer have to do anything. FeedBurner takes care of it all for me... I write and eventually you should receive!</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">*******You will need to type in your own email address where it says SIGN UP TO RECEIVE MY BLOGS... only if you would like to have them emailed to you. It's all up to you now******* </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">That's it. I'm done bugging and "testing" you. It was fun while it lasted. Greener pastures up ahead! </span></span></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-70892694376447510322009-03-09T13:32:00.003-04:002009-06-13T17:10:05.014-04:00My soul is filled<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyjHFXTSB-fYMFy5Z-R29v-pUCEl3qrUHce7gZnXq3T7Nu1A-Briy0ySDdL3fRtYhYX0sLqNA-elNDwdp-183-oBtSEOQDDJ0cU5KLqgsVvnNXLuTSyIsRZqC2VT-LlM1Sb0DjrZZY7g/s1600-h/P3051509.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyjHFXTSB-fYMFy5Z-R29v-pUCEl3qrUHce7gZnXq3T7Nu1A-Briy0ySDdL3fRtYhYX0sLqNA-elNDwdp-183-oBtSEOQDDJ0cU5KLqgsVvnNXLuTSyIsRZqC2VT-LlM1Sb0DjrZZY7g/s200/P3051509.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311604826412349826" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I</span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"> just finished up a full weekend of concerts. Classical. 19 piece orchestra plus organ accompanied a chorus made up of almost 90 voices. There's nothing like having your feet go numb for the sake of singing with strings playing only a few feet away from you. Nothing can compare. Except in my dream world I would be paid to sing with the strings instead of the other way around. In comparison to the food world it would be like eating a Friendly's Reese's Pieces Sundae as a food critic and receiving reimbursement upon completion (along with only half of the calories counting). </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Side note: Upon looking up how to spell this particular sundae I found a list of healthier alternatives from Friendly's. The healthiest alternative listed was Spanish Rice. I'm not sure how eating that would take the edge off of desiring a sundae or even coming close to replicating any part of the Reese's Sundae. Then again, perhaps I am underestimating the power of this particular rice. I'm obviously not Spanish.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">We performed the Faure </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Requiem</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"> which was just beautiful. Our director, Katie, managed to get most of the soprano section to hold their wobble. She worked hard to make us sound more angelic-like. I was always so moved by the second movement. It is written for the altos to begin and then the men come in and there is this playful banter. It is very moody. In parts of the Poulenc </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Gloria</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"> I was transported to movie land. I recently rented the movie musical Sweeney Todd. Yes, a bit graphic in spots. I did quite a bit of shielding my eyes from the spurting blood. The score was absolutely splendid, imaginative, playful. If you could get over the fact that Johnny Depp was singing then all was well. During the fifth movement of the Poulenc I was the star in my own movie, the sequel to Sweeney Todd. Less blood in this one. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The first night I looked out into the audience to see that the youngest ones attending had managed to stay awake for the whole concert. That is a first. Before leaving the house I suggested to my children that they take something along to color. They all said they didn't need to, they would be listening to the music. So thankful that they have supported me over the years through my chorale involvement by attending and finding ways to make me feel special. They brought me purple tulips. The same tulips that just days earlier I had longingly gazed upon in the grocery store- without my dear husband's knowledge! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I can only hope that as the older generations pass away that my children will be first in line to take their place as patrons of excellent music. There is something about notes placed in just the right spot and performed with such sensitivity that has great power to stir the soul. My soul is filled. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-20330431388186737362009-03-05T11:27:00.001-05:002009-03-05T12:06:33.973-05:00May I never stop noticing the walls<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">As I was doing some fixing up here on my blog site I got to thinking. How long will it be before I stop noticing my blog "wallpaper"? When I started this blog I clicked a few buttons and there it was, all set up for me. I had quite a few backgrounds to pick from and then I could customize even more after picking one. I have been back and forth on what to use. Light polka dots, dark ones. Plain background, colorful. Start from scratch and make my own... ouch, that would be work. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">When we first moved into our tiny home almost 7 years ago I had visions. I didn't want white walls. Green. I searched for months for the perfect shade of green. Took even longer to finally give the ok to Andy to start painting. We finally covered over the green snowman that had become our painted friend on the wall. It was only recently that I started noticing the walls again. Dirty from years of touching, the paint has chipped off in places. Character and memories yes, but... How often do I do that, not notice what has been there all the time? How often is it that I desire to take the time to think about change? Or do I think about it for a fleeting moment and think it will be too hard to improve upon, and proceed to neglect it? I think it's time for me to start noticing the walls again and to think about what I can do to improve upon them. The same could be said about me. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror: for once he has looked at himself and gone away, he has immediately forgotten what kind of person he was.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">James 1:23-24 </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Yes, I may end up keeping the light polka dots because that's what I have decided upon. May it never be because I have forgotten about them or the desire I had in the first place to create something of beauty. </span></span></span></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-66603032128079716212009-03-03T11:45:00.002-05:002009-06-13T16:58:25.821-04:00Is there greener grass to be found?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">I</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">'</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">m sitting here staring at an open bag of Twizzlers, contemplating a minor victory. I never thought I had it in me to say no. I did- I opted instead for tea, cashews and cantaloupe. After being basically sugar and gluten free for the past 5 weeks that when I read down through the ingredient list (for Twizzlers) their appeal was lost on me. For those of you that know me well this minor victory is actually quite a major breakthrough. One day at a time. That's what I keep telling myself.</span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">There's no mistaking it- life is hard, for everyone. I'm reminded of that truth every time I go for another test and see that I am not the only one there. Just a couple of days ago while getting 14 tubes of blood taken I ran into 2 people that I knew. They were giving their blood up to be tested as well. I chatted a bit with my one friend from the chorale inquiring as to why she was there. Truth be told, it's not often that I let myself become lost in the hardships of others. I tend to think that my brain will explode if I take in too much sorrow, if I feel compelled to care, then get overwhelmed when I don't know how to reach out past my own sorrows. Most days my energy is consumed overcoming my own struggles. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">When Caleb was born and I wanted to throw him out of a window to make him stop crying, I knew something was wrong. Each pregnancy brought new challenges and symptoms. After Moriah was born I finally decided to seek out some answers as to what was going on with my body. Little more than 5 years ago I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's disease. I was told that there was an easy fix. All you have to do is take a teeny tiny little pill for the rest of your life. Then the stomach pain and bloating started and the numbness and dizzy spells got worse. A couple of years ago anemia was thrown into the mix. As for the stomach problems those were put into the giant sphere of irritable bowel syndrome. Did I mention I have food addictions as well??? The past few years have been spent scheduling tests and more tests to get at the root of the problem- what has caused so much to go wrong? There is always a part of me that is optimistic that something will be found that will give insight into why my body betrays me at times like it does. I recently started down a more natural path in hopes of healing my body. Because of doing this I thought I was ready to ditch my medical field approved pill. Yet I just got the call that I was dreading, my thyroid isn't working. Now what. I've been told to start taking the pill again. In my gut I believe that it was doing more harm than good... So desiring to come to a place where I can accept that this is as good as it gets for me in my earthly body and then learn to live fully in this place. There are days when I am so close to being there, then there are days like today when frustration sets in and the tears flow. So confused as to where to go from here. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">I am so blessed to have such a supportive family. At such a young age Caleb was put in charge of caring for his sisters when I was having a "bad" day. He is still so watchful of them, wanting no harm to befall them. They have endured countless dr. visits with me. Just the other day they sat with me while I chatted with my nutritionist. I looked over at Lily to see that she was flossing her teeth with a fluorescent kid flosser. She had taken 2 along, one for the top teeth, another for the bottom. The kids can tell you which offices they like the best. The place yesterday would have to be rated right up at the top. I had an electronic dizzy test while Andy took the kids exploring. There was a waterfall and elevators in the building. The highest kid-ranked items when it comes to any location, water and elevators. Found out afterwards that they played hide and seek using the elevators- by themselves! I have watched everyone adopt my new way of eating by coming on board with me. Some days the kids awake with more excitement than others about the foods we will be eating. At the store they now squeal with delight as they press their faces up against the glass to peer at the sugar- laden cakes, cookies and doughnuts which they know better than to ask if we can buy...</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Times of laughter through the tears. Moriah saying "mommy doesn't want to eat because she doesn't want to get a fat tummy". There is truth in her statement. There is always a fear that what I am doing is harming myself further. The foods that I eat, the pills that I swallow. Being careful how I dress myself to "hide" what is so obvious to me. Through it all I have learned much about myself, about the God that I desire to serve, about the people that He has created in His image. I have had friends reach out to me at just the right times. I have been moved by hearing similar stories of others suffering in ways that they to find hard to express. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">When there isn't a name to what you have it's easier at times to not share, thinking that others can't possibly understand what you going through, the pain and frustrations it causes when you just want to feel normal, whatever normal feels like. The games your mind chooses to play. Never sure which advice to heed or where to go next. The dr. who says there is no shame in taking drugs to treat depression, another telling you to learn to live with it if it's not killing you, the expert expressing concern over prescription drugs causing long-term problems. I'm taking one step at a time, one day at a time, seeking to find greener grass. Not certain that even if I did find greener grass if it would be at all like I envisioned... yet I still need to believe that it's out there for me to find. I have a hope beyond tomorrow but it's that hope for living tomorrow that I need to get me through. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"> </span></span></span></span></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-74940537211996648732009-02-27T08:55:00.002-05:002009-06-20T14:30:03.445-04:00"I have a dream." Yes, but, rent the helmets.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaq8Q7YlKkBhMBS9SlJGukvdsDgsSlhrEFlsSQh7iI-sjssskZ6-B-o2I47_fIOdOGB2gIrkWt3C93bj5t1Lx5hIpvM-AccXTTGiYB5F7zP8dDP4G82M28Qd6zPE7OkE-jBv2PTCEi2ig/s1600-h/P2221441.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaq8Q7YlKkBhMBS9SlJGukvdsDgsSlhrEFlsSQh7iI-sjssskZ6-B-o2I47_fIOdOGB2gIrkWt3C93bj5t1Lx5hIpvM-AccXTTGiYB5F7zP8dDP4G82M28Qd6zPE7OkE-jBv2PTCEi2ig/s400/P2221441.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307508656027582754" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> learned to ski in the 7th grade ski club. My parents had the right idea- sending me off to learn on my own when I was old enough to pick myself up. I'm not sure at what age my husband learned his way around on a snowboard. I do remember seeing pictures of him jumping off of rooftops as well as great "air" pic's. He takes great pride in sharing those memories with me. Before we were married was the last time I went skiing. Winter of 1996. Andy and I met to ski/snowboard together at Hidden Valley. It was supposedly the halfway point between our homes, though I recall it took me quite a bit longer to get there from Lancaster than it took Andy to get there from Butler. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">This past Christmas my kids opened up gifts from their grandparents (gifts that were highly suggested and actually purchased by my husband) that were a complete shock to me! They all got boots and a snowboard to share. That's when the vision was revealed to me. Andy told me about 4th and 5th graders skiing free in PA and thought Moriah might be free as well certain places since she's 5- so wouldn't it be a good time to learn? 2 out of 3 children were excited. I was concerned about having to use muscles that have long since been forgotten...</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Yesterday was the big day. Caleb's cyber school was taking a group, we loaded up our family and drove to Hidden Valley. Thankfully by this time Lily was on board with the whole skiing thing. It was decided that Lily and Moriah would rent skis and Caleb would use the snowboard. We pulled into the parking lot and concerns came up. "What if I fall?" Lily replied, "I've got band aids!" Sure enough, she did. She had packed her bag with proper medical necessities and was prepared to use them. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> I know that you are more than ready for me to skip to the good parts. Like when Moriah was crying and refused to put her skis back on 10 minutes after being outside. Or when any grand thoughts about stealing off for some skiing time alone were squashed after realizing that I would have to stay with Moriah and Lily for their 1 1/2 hour lesson. I was told by the instructor that they start lessons around age 8, 5 was too young for most kids because of their lack of hip strength. I laughed. I looked him in the face and said that she was a very good gymnast. He said OK, but you need to stay with her during the class to help her. Lack of strength... my dear little package of explosion who spends 2 hours in the gym each week and countless others at home perfecting her walkovers and handstands, dreaming of the Olympics. Was I out to prove him wrong? You bet. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Many falls later and fortified with food, Andy decided we were ready to progress off of the bunny hill. This involved moving up from the standing, creeping paced carpet lift to a 3 seater, high in the sky faster lift. I went first with Caleb who moaned about his foot hanging in the air, wishing it to be over. We got off but Caleb didn't move fast enough away from the lift before one of the girls crashed into him. What were we thinking? I was focused on looking for green circle signs. The easy trails. Lily announced that now she had to go the bathroom. We had to get down off the mountain somehow. Survival mode had kicked into gear for me. I went first a bit at a time to show them where I wanted them to go and to catch them. Andy stayed behind to help restart the fallen ones. More than an hour later (including one potty stop behind a tree for Lily) we finally almost all made it down the mountain. After falling many, many times, Caleb declared that he wanted to try skiing next time. Moriah got up after a tearfully hard fall and I expected her to be done. She surprised me by asking if she could go back to the bunny hill. Lily was crying the whole way down. It didn't help that right near the bottom of the hill she disappeared into a hole taller than herself where one of the snow making machines was placed. I was on my way up the creeping carpet lift when I saw her gracefully ski right into the hole. Andy, who was at the bottom of the hill didn't notice. I was yelling down at him. He went up to fetch her, reached his hand down in and pulled her out. Needless to say, Lily said she was finished skiing and I was bummed that I stopped video-taping right before she slid into the hole.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Funny thing is Lily did eventually put on her skis again and continued up then down the bunny hill until we had to pull her off to go home. She put into practice the slow (with emphasis on the word </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">slow</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">) controlled turns that she learned in her lessons. After getting a close up look at the snow making machine she told me she wanted one to have here at home. Caleb pushed himself despite his many falls. Determined that he would get the hang of it. Moriah almost beat her Daddy racing straight down the hill and managed to finally learn how to stay standing up when turning to stop herself at the bottom. Amazingly hard day. No, Andy and I didn't get to do much on our own and the main muscles that I worked on weren't in my legs but in my arms from picking the girls up! There is something incredible about working with your family to overcome fears and frustrations. It was time well spent in learning valuable life lessons. It was priceless- the money spent on helmet rentals. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345459466994046749.post-41391683040423417222009-02-24T13:29:00.000-05:002009-02-24T23:49:01.571-05:00If anyone finds my mind, please return with upgraded version installed.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">M</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">y day so far... only as it can happen to me. I left to go the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. I just went last month but I get my final pic's taken at my orthodontist tomorrow and I've been taking vitamin filled shakes that have chosen to stain every little nook and cranny they could find- hence the much needed cleaning. I got to the dentist early (which I was quite proud of) and even made sure to point that out to the receptionist as she looked at me quite quizzicly. She said "I believe we scheduled you for next Tuesday". My ego quickly deflated as I realized instead of being 10 minutes early I was a week and 10 minutes early. Yes, I do remember now on the answering machine it was a March date that was given. Thankfully they had someone cancel so in I went for some scraping action. 40 minutes later after many assurances to the very nice hygienist that I was OK and having to pull out the "big guns" (think super soaker loaded with baking soda and you get the idea) my teeth were better than new. My face was feeling quite worked upon too after being spackled with super soaker residue. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last stop before home, the girls and I head into Target for cashews. Not just any cashews but the only ones that I can find roasted without added oils. Just sea salt. My son who would not touch a nut 4 weeks ago has fallen in love with sea salt roasted cashews. On the way of course we get side tracked looking at pretty dresses and clearance tights. Armed with new dresses and tights we head to the cashews. On sale even! My face all of a sudden doesn't feel so tight anymore from the dried on baking soda. Off to pay and get home before Caleb realizes that we aren't there when I said we would be. Reach the check out only to discover that Lily's tights are missing. "I think I left them at the cashew aisle". That's only a walk back through the dress section and cards and videos and then past electronics- there's the aisle and yes the tights right on the floor. Hurray. Off to pay, again. Now there is a line, and we are waiting. Which gives me time to get out my wallet which I realize isn't with me, it's in the car. Nice fellow lets us leave our stuff in a pile while we run out to the car to retrieve wallet.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Return home to find that since we are 30 minutes late, Caleb has called his Dad and stressed his concern. He then rushes over to me and gives me a sincere warm hug. If being 30 minutes late gives me that kind of welcome I may have to be late again... </span></span></div>Trish Hixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12902063502658093491noreply@blogger.com1