tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29517271834581149022024-03-05T12:07:40.376-05:00Hillary's Hmmmmmmm...Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.comBlogger152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-75468234490373359302012-11-20T21:33:00.001-05:002012-11-20T21:33:19.654-05:00Rock of AgesOn Facebook I've been posting something I'm thankful for each day this month. I've already used up tonight's thanks on there so I decided to come over here to my blog. I really need to write anyway. <br />
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Tonight I am thankful for the Rock of Ages. Remember the lines of the song? "Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee." That's the part that speaks to me tonight...let me hide in you, Lord.<br />
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There are times when something upsets me...and I don't want the upset to spread to everyone around me...and I struggle with how to process the moment, knowing it will pass. That's when I need to hide in Christ and seek His peace and his wisdom and strength.<br />
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I'm thankful for The Rock, Jesus Christ.Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com1Gainesville Gainesville29.62083 -82.380549tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-17447185381019254872012-07-30T21:55:00.001-04:002012-07-30T21:55:22.811-04:00Lessons and LaughterToday my family had one of those moments that we hope will live in our memories for years to come. I decided to blog about it in an effort to help it stick in my brain for a long, long time. I don't know how funny it will be in writing because it might have been one of those "you had to be there" sort of funnies, but I'm writing it down anyway!<div>
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We are on a mini-vacation and this morning we were searching the town for breakfast. Everywhere we looked we saw "Waffle House" which we were adamantly opposed to...at least those of us who were over the age of 15. So we finally decided on some non-chain diner and without going into details, found ourselves wishing we'd gone to Waffle House, oddly enough.</div>
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Allison, my youngest, who is 11 (and a half), was eating fried eggs. Now she eats fried eggs the way I eat fried eggs. Most people see us attack them and ask why we didn't just order scrambled, but we have our reasons. We like to smush them all to pieces with our forks so that the runny yolk runs all over the nicely done whites. Alli was gripping her fork like a dagger and not doing the greatest job, so Guy jumps in to help. </div>
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"All kidding aside, Alli, if you'll grip the fork like this..." he said while holding the fork with his forefinger pointing toward the part that goes in your mouth. At the same instant he applied pressure with his finger, but his finger slipped off and went smushing through the egg yolk, fumbling the fork. The lesson ended as quickly as it began, and we all cracked up, laughing hysterically. </div>
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We relived the moment at dinner and laughed hysterically all over again.</div>
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Don't you just love those moments when you try to share your experienced wisdom with the young'ns and something like that happens?</div>
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Good times.</div>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-40770509880046402502012-04-09T14:04:00.002-04:002012-04-09T14:04:46.155-04:00I have some amazing friends. Today I'm going to write about one of them. You know how there are those people who seem to keep the world spinning on the tip of their finger? Then they roll it down their arms across their shoulder onto the other hand where it continues its spin? Like a Harlem Globetrotter with a basketball, these people juggle life and make it look like a no-brainer. I would say they make it look effortless but I KNOW there is so much effort they put into it that I don't want to even hint at it being an easy thing for them.<br />
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That's my friend, Kristen. I have had a lot of friends in my life. Friends I treasure and who have been there for me, and who have in no way let me down. But Kristen flat out amazes me. <br />
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She's the mom of four beautiful, spunky girls...all born within a six-year window if I remember correctly. Can you imagine four girls under the age of six under your feet? She made it look like child's play. Can you imagine four girls within the teen years all at once? She can't either but it's coming!!! ha ha (Sorry, K)<br />
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She worked nights for a couple years so she would be there with them during their waking hours. Then as the number of girls increased she became a stay at home mom. Now many moms with four kids would consider keeping the kids alive and the house in one piece enough. They would do what they needed to make it each week...keep a step ahead of life, and that would be great. Who could really ask for more? But that's not Kristen. She mommed her kids, cleaned her house, cooked wonderful meals, headed the PTA, organized major anniversaries from a state away (single-handed for in-laws), made every child's birthday every year a celebration for the books. She took the girls on meaningful outings, major vacations, and handled the shopping with four apprentices regularly. I can't even recall all the things she has done but every time I talk to her (and that would be daily...and multiple times per day, thank you... even though she's never lived even in the same state as me), every time I talk to her she is planning something for someone. And here's the clincher...she does it all 200%.<br />
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I'm a survivalist. I find 200% to be awe-inspiring...especially when it's how she approaches EVERYTHING.<br />
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And when my dad died, though she lived multiple states away and had four little girls to care for, and had every excuse in the book for just offering support over the phone...she came. She was physically there for me, for my family and knowing no stranger she jumped in the middle of everything and did all she possibly could to relieve others of any duties they were tending to.<br />
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You know what that is? Don't just call it friendship. It is love in action. Everything she does, she does with quality and she knows no excuses and makes none, because she doesn't find a need for any. She shows up. She completes things. She loves anyone who walks into her life who gives her half a chance.<br />
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And yet, this wonderful amazing woman does not realize that she is a success. Top of the corporate ladder? No. But a success. Coming from a background where everyone of meaning to her has let her down, she has been a stability to four beautiful girls and a force in my life, too. (And I'm quite sure that her other friends would say the very same thing.)<br />
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K, you are a success. You live and you give of yourself completely. I love you. And I want to be like you when I grow up. ;)Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-51172406092751175132012-01-01T13:04:00.004-05:002012-01-01T13:26:27.820-05:00Change, Change, ChangeI like to blog when I feel like I have some profound lesson to share...or something I find entertaining so I can be silly and funny. But somehow my brain hasn't lately (and by lately I mean the last year or two)...hasn't lately been in a really creative mode. Perhaps because I seldom sit alone where I can get creative. Perhaps because I just haven't jumped in and written. At any rate, I miss the blogging, so I'm sitting down and getting with it...whether it's really worthy of sharing or not.<div><br /></div><div>Today is the first day of 2012. In the last few years my life has changed by leaps and bounds. First dating after at least 15 years since a date. Getting remarried. My mom lived with me during those dating years because my girls needed a chauffeur to their school when they got too old to attend the one at which I was teaching. Then Mom moved away when I got married. Change, change, change. Oh and let's not forget a girl entering adolescence and her younger sister tight on her heels. Change, change, change. I turned 40. Change, change, chang(gggggr)e. I resigned from my teaching job. I started working in Guy's office. Change, change. I got my motorcycle license...and my motorcycle. Change, yeehaw, change. And now, because all of that was not enough change...I'm going to tackle another biggie. It's a goodie, though. In roughly two weeks I will begin the first course in my master's degree. I'm returning to school to get my master's in professional counseling degree from Liberty University. It will be a lot of work on top of what life already is, but I'm excited about it! I honestly...with no dramatics about it...believe that God has called me to do this. I believe that Liberty is the school I need to attend to get the knowledge and skills necessary to really help some people. Because let's face it, we have some hurting people in our world. I know. I see them in my own family. I see one in my own mirror. But by the grace of God, I know that can change. I know people can heal. I know that they can do more than survive...they can really and truly live. And I'd like to do what I can to help them do just that.</div><div><br /></div><div>So here's to a year, with the changes and challenges it will inevitably bring. Our God is great...and greater than anything we face. So change? Bring it on.</div>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-37286241743758497252011-09-25T22:01:00.002-04:002011-09-25T22:33:49.062-04:00Blessings all mine...There are some things in this life that are precious to me. Things I would describe as filling me with wonder. When I began toying with this idea I thought there would only REALLY be a very few things. Then I got to thinking and there are so many to choose from! There's that first snowfall of the season. There's the softness of baby's skin. There's that reddest tree in town in the middle of autumn. There's the way fire ants all attack you, biting simultaneously. (Okay, I hate that one.) There's the way my Yorkie curls up on the back of the sofa and rests her head on my shoulder. (Yep, even that one wow's me...'cause she's the sweetest critter on earth!) But the biggie, the one that got has my attention of late is the wonder of watching my children grow. <br /><br />I think about my pregnancies, both of which can only be described as extremely easy and uncomplicated. But I remember that incredible wonder of the very first "fluttering." The tests had already shown I was pregnant. The doctors had confirmed that I was pregnant. But with that fluttering, there was no doubt that within me was my own little baby. What an AWESOME realization! And it didn't stop there. No, that was just the beginning! I remember feeling little feet pushing on my ribs, or running across my tummy. Or the response of the baby when I gave it a little nudge to get that foot off my rib! Absolutely amazing. I could go on and on about the wonders of pregnancy and even childbirth (though, with all women, I heartily agree that THAT is unrivaled pain.) Then come all the amazing baby stages. Isn't it amazing how long you can sit and just watch a sleeping baby? They're doing absolutely nothing, but you're transfixed. Men and women alike get captured by them.<br /><br />I look back and each and every stage has been SO fascinating to watch. But childhood is winding down now and I figured the "WOW's" would be lessening. I was wrong. I have two little tweenies and it's STILL amazing. My Meg-girl is wearing my shoes and grabbing my discarded clothes to see what she can keep and wear before I haul them off to Goodwill...and some of them are fitting! She's catching me...and I love it. She's becoming this beautiful young woman who I could sit and just watch for hours...just like that little baby I brought home thirteen years ago. Friends and acquaintances all give me warnings, "Watch out for the teen years!" and seem to indicate great miseries are in store. But I refuse to accept that. I have been SO richly blessed with girls who are so sweet and so innocent and I know, I know...some of that will change. And I know that many an unsuspecting parent has wondered where everything went wrong?<br /><br />These girls, they fill me with wonder, and I fully expect that to keep happening. And I thank God for all the little wonders He created in them, that they reveal day after day.<br /><br />I am a woman truly blessed. And I thank God for that.<br /><br />As the song says, "Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside...."Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-86531780455453769922011-09-09T23:29:00.002-04:002011-09-09T23:44:20.328-04:005 Girls and a MovieThis afternoon my girls had two friends over to spend the night. We went off to the movies to take in Spy Kids: All the Time in the World. It was entertaining as are all the Spy Kids movies, but it was an alllll new experience in movie-going.<br /><br />You may not believe it, but it was a SCRATCH-AND-SNIFF movie! No lie. When we bought our tickets, they handed each of us a card with the numbers 1-8 on them. At the beginning of the movie, they announced that throughout the movie we would see the numbers flashed on the screen and when we did, we were to scratch the corresponding number and sniff it to experience the SMELLS of the movie.<br /><br />During one part, a baby had a dirty diaper, and they flashed a number on the screen. I did my duty and scratched and sniffed, and whaddayaknowaboutthat? It smelled like a tootsie roll!<br /><br />No kidding.<br /><br />What will they think of next???Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-31551079148868212642011-09-08T20:24:00.003-04:002011-09-08T21:21:30.305-04:00Volleyball!My oldest girl, Megan, plays volleyball. This is her second year and she is on the JV team. Today was her first game.<br /><br />I say game...but I'm not sure if I'm correct. At every "event" the teams play three times. Best two out of three. I don't know if it's three games make a match or is it three matches make a game? Or am I off in both regards?? Well for my sake and so you know what I'm talking about, I'll call it three games in a match.<br /><br />First game, Megan didn't start, but after a couple of minutes, the coach put her in. She got in there and gave great effort. I was very proud of her. Unfortunately, our team lost that first game. So the teams switched ends of the court and the second game began. The game went on and on, with one team scoring a point, then the other one catching up. Back and forth they went, but eventually we won! Yay! So another game began and it went the same way. Because both of the last two games were so close, the coach kept her starting six in.<br /><br />So I sat there, worrying that Megan was feeling sad that she wasn't getting to play and I felt sad for her. See, I've been there. I played three seasons of basketball as a kid. And in three seasons of basketball, I'd be shocked if we added up all my game time and found out I played ten minutes...maybe not even five. I know the bench too well. And I felt it pretty keenly, especially in eighth grade. Always stuck in for the 32 seconds of the game we were losing miserably. It made me angry. "Great, I get to go in for the loss and I'll look like the one who lost the game." I really wished she wouldn't put me in at all if she was only going to stick me in for less than a minute to watch us lose the game. So lugging those memories along with me, I worried about Megan a bit, sitting over on the bench beside her coach.<br /><br />Then I looked up. And you know what I saw? Not a sad little face pouting over her bench-warming status. Not an angry adolescent acting like "it's just not fair!" Nope. I saw my girl getting the attention of her bench mates and getting them to join her in doing "the wave." She was grinning from ear to ear and having a fantastic time. And when the match was complete and our team was declared the victor, and all the girls were cheering and celebrating, you know who was jumping the highest? My bench-warming wave-maker.<br /><br />I was proud. And instead of a heart full of worry I had a heart full of thankfulness that THAT's <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: lucida grande;font-size:180%;" >MY</span> girl.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFU53YE5wOxmlqD4-6ybaytMm1KVByXn9NNshiREm1IpVgAfwcgrOWLltjHIGCPaxkad8vVRdQqd_cew6nswCfSRad-3j6opDmWjdC1eTyxuhTvirf3xMkTrHh2rvMozGpFnWYP9Rywf2y/s1600/photo+5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFU53YE5wOxmlqD4-6ybaytMm1KVByXn9NNshiREm1IpVgAfwcgrOWLltjHIGCPaxkad8vVRdQqd_cew6nswCfSRad-3j6opDmWjdC1eTyxuhTvirf3xMkTrHh2rvMozGpFnWYP9Rywf2y/s320/photo+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650163396382970866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7SE_zBqaQGTBjoZID9MiP-beubfhCEGXPMGqun1dHk03K05SKeX8ow6_6Ol-dNoZiTBUB2tgigW010Q7f8wn53VPk-8hgQ0X-2y9KivBfhiL-jD8xil0WddjVQtFEF5grECszekMevyi/s1600/photo+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7SE_zBqaQGTBjoZID9MiP-beubfhCEGXPMGqun1dHk03K05SKeX8ow6_6Ol-dNoZiTBUB2tgigW010Q7f8wn53VPk-8hgQ0X-2y9KivBfhiL-jD8xil0WddjVQtFEF5grECszekMevyi/s320/photo+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650163392457214354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2lrrNTeONrhEp4gAlnjw2g8mXRIGcqw80WGncUk6Nskd4DNrFwa0jjiCj6X-D1s5kkud3-mP9cjwUy27oFab2MyUdyFBpAk-9vze7Rs78CJoXB-rcQVljI1r2CFcIGHCWqA_niLdWWcAK/s1600/photo+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2lrrNTeONrhEp4gAlnjw2g8mXRIGcqw80WGncUk6Nskd4DNrFwa0jjiCj6X-D1s5kkud3-mP9cjwUy27oFab2MyUdyFBpAk-9vze7Rs78CJoXB-rcQVljI1r2CFcIGHCWqA_niLdWWcAK/s320/photo+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650163387602008754" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1j_STWG6nuzbSKrmRA4fbt7Wdwa9rGdt_rD77NOPsUIFuWP2c4HcZdfBtJyVvP7SWSMGYR2axEp92t_MpiyW-n9YnxjCnvi8e8ygJAMNuy5OTzeAkvulLwe73YLhtlTVxIZFE_40Ol9i9/s1600/photo+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1j_STWG6nuzbSKrmRA4fbt7Wdwa9rGdt_rD77NOPsUIFuWP2c4HcZdfBtJyVvP7SWSMGYR2axEp92t_MpiyW-n9YnxjCnvi8e8ygJAMNuy5OTzeAkvulLwe73YLhtlTVxIZFE_40Ol9i9/s320/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650163386017975522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioz32Lg06R8MOEaF4OnL8K1-RK-9rIvBQpch55GSMI5KS29C2WTwQDQQI2HhBegt7FJYPtEGSZCF2ep3Mvj-xjrTDUlUXoOI1zP52-83jvz5JcGpvcnFxkINaGRAFeozcVi4_jF6GueCn6/s1600/photo+4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioz32Lg06R8MOEaF4OnL8K1-RK-9rIvBQpch55GSMI5KS29C2WTwQDQQI2HhBegt7FJYPtEGSZCF2ep3Mvj-xjrTDUlUXoOI1zP52-83jvz5JcGpvcnFxkINaGRAFeozcVi4_jF6GueCn6/s320/photo+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650163396118592322" border="0" /></a>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-67643336460779777662011-09-05T21:21:00.008-04:002011-09-07T21:28:23.490-04:00A Lesson from the PrincessThree things come to mind when I hear the words, "The Princess". One is the whole general princess idea...royalty, Disney, little girls playing dressup...you get the idea. Second is a great book from one of my favorite authors, Lori Wick. It is called...wait for it..."The Princess". And last but not least is my little tiny Yorkie, named Ceci. <br /><br />Here she is as a baby...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qMKWgaUFJwyZNm2bacAKD9by-D3zbH3XfeeEMNSxwcoA3T_uqKv3Bd2Jl8BulqVAl-SaTv8HS_RUIn_0WxTlJ4FsGkRtHP0R1kcB0p0GYYdhNblVS_9BpkEUPyGpEk4GNxN-G24YGPD5/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qMKWgaUFJwyZNm2bacAKD9by-D3zbH3XfeeEMNSxwcoA3T_uqKv3Bd2Jl8BulqVAl-SaTv8HS_RUIn_0WxTlJ4FsGkRtHP0R1kcB0p0GYYdhNblVS_9BpkEUPyGpEk4GNxN-G24YGPD5/s320/4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649052124495328370" /></a><br /><br />And here she is in her favorite place...the car...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3kEiiFlKajz6AWT3qBI7ZjrJqL4i_oTbwofGPLzLSmwg5xT7z45xU0bo169ZfdgElm26tayEnXF5DplpK6Lwp4TNJB9GmEmfs_k0cPV-dMWp1vfq2ilLF5UUuiRekcJuaIdBVJgCnLN1/s1600/DSC03494.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3kEiiFlKajz6AWT3qBI7ZjrJqL4i_oTbwofGPLzLSmwg5xT7z45xU0bo169ZfdgElm26tayEnXF5DplpK6Lwp4TNJB9GmEmfs_k0cPV-dMWp1vfq2ilLF5UUuiRekcJuaIdBVJgCnLN1/s320/DSC03494.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649052752550039938" /></a><br /><br />And here she is more recently...sporting her Jackie O look...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7b9NTcJAM4KMr3qcHMTAlhchpA__Qu_6Ba48eWEUGiGOPfLDBNo4EpJOj4fjWAUVOzZ2eE-nqXLy6V8sZ1MgrvaPUpQ946eeJ-cdefyif5bF0ftiqPQFQr-88qHUku5ddnrUrdzSGjVl_/s1600/photo%25281%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7b9NTcJAM4KMr3qcHMTAlhchpA__Qu_6Ba48eWEUGiGOPfLDBNo4EpJOj4fjWAUVOzZ2eE-nqXLy6V8sZ1MgrvaPUpQ946eeJ-cdefyif5bF0ftiqPQFQr-88qHUku5ddnrUrdzSGjVl_/s320/photo%25281%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649054782931640050" /></a><br /><br />Her Princessness is obvious, right? I mean, who could argue against it? And why? <br /><br />But that's not why I'm writing today. Today she taught me a lesson. It wasn't a NEW lesson, but it was one worth remembering.<br /><br />Today Guy and I were swimming in our pool. Months ago, Ceci had somehow fallen into the pool, unbeknownst to us until I heard some strange splashing and went to investigate it. Turns out she's a pretty strong swimmer but the problem was she couldn't get out of the pool because she was too tiny to make it from the top step to the side of the pool. (She's just under 4 pounds.) So there was nowhere in the pool where she could touch down and no way she could get out. I scooped her out and she has wisely stayed away from the edge of the pool since then. She is clearly afraid of it...as is Harley, our little Maltese mix. Today, Guy and I decided to try a little "therapy" with them. I brought Ceci into the pool, very carefully. At first she was struggling, struggling, struggling, but I tucked her under one arm, the way she likes to be carried and she calmed noticeably. Guy came close and was talking to her soothingly and put out one hand to her and she was gripping his finger with her front paw, very tense, but not struggling. Then Guy moved away to draw Harley in with us. Ceci latched onto my hand, still tense. Harley didn't fight, exactly, but he was very freaked out about the water and holding on to Guy's shoulder for dear life.<br /><br />Now something you don't know about Ceci (and why/how would you?) is that when either of our other two dogs are upset, barking or growling, etc., Ceci goes over very timidly and inches up into their face as though trying to comfort or calm them. It's really a sweet thing to watch...and sometimes funny that such a tiny dog would get in the face of another that's acting so aggressive. And if anyone is sick or hurt, she likes to curl up close to them, as though trying to comfort. And if you cry, she licks away the tears.<br /><br />Back to the pool...<br />Ceci was in my arms and very tense, very rigid. Harley was in Guy's arms, very scared as well. I moved forward to try to calm and comfort Harley, too, with Ceci still tucked under my arm and as I drew close to his face, Ceci did, too...and I suddenly realized that she completely relaxed.<br /><br />It may not sound like much, but I was amazed. Doesn't the same thing happen to us? We get so focused on our problems (for Ceci: the water) that we get overwhelmed and deeply distressed. But in those times, when we move to help someone who is in greater need, we gain a different perspective. We focus on what we can do for others and the stress lifts. The problems, like the deep water, don't just go away, but the fear doesn't keep controlling us.<br /><br />My thoughts seem only half-hatched on this but I felt it was worth sharing...Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-42419099275664477292011-04-10T21:36:00.004-04:002011-09-07T21:52:40.519-04:00Fear of what??I've been hoping to sit down and blog for a week or so...so I did last night and totally forgot I had started this one, ha ha. I've had some bloggy thoughts on my mind. I haven't even thought it through but I've known I want to write it down and process it all.<br /><br />Several times lately I've thought about a particular memory. Somewhere around six or seven years ago my youngest daughter had what was, to this mommy, an incredibly hilarious fear. Now that just sounds cruel, doesn't it? Laughing at your little helpless child. But wait until you hear.<br /><br />For many small todlers, IF they have a fear, it is something like big dogs. Something that is intimidating by size or behavior. And it doesn't surprise us at all. I know it wouldn't have surprised me. But my girl was fine with dogs. It was something else...entirely unexpected...that she was afraid of.<br /><br />One day the girls and I were walking from our condo out to the car. Suddenly Alli wasn't walking with us and I turn back to see what the problem was, or what had distracted her. She was frozen in fear because right there in the middle of the sidewalk was...not a dog...not a big ugly bird...not a snake. No, no, no. It was a snail. Yes, you read that right. It was a SNAIL! I tried to reason with her and told her to just step over it; it can't jump. I tried telling her to go around it; it's too slow to catch you. But no. She would not budge. So I walked back past the snail, lifted Allison up and set her back down on the other side of the snail and on she went, happy as a lark.<br /><br />Needless to say, a couple weeks later when a squirrel blocked her path on the sidewalk, separating her from me, I knew better than to expect coaxing to work, ha ha.<br /><br />I laugh whenever I share "the snail tale." I chuckle when I just think about it. It's one of those fun, peculiar, little stories we moms like to share about our kids. But it gets me thinking, too. That little tiny snail was in no way a danger to Alli. Even if it had wanted to harm her, the most it could have done was slime her. And we all know there's no way it could have caught her to even try. It was harmless. But it paralyzed her. She was NOT going to face that thing alone! She was afraid and so focused on that little thing that there was no reasoning with her. A snail.<br /><br />We have snail-like fears, too. There are situations that I face sometimes that give me ridiculous levels of anxiety and I find myself praying fervently that God will give me strength and peace to get through. Then I get in the situation and I see what a harmless, snail-sized situation it is and wonder why on earth I was so incredibly freaked out about it.<br /><br />I wonder why we do that? Why do we make mountains out of molehills? I don't know. But I'm glad I've got good friends, good family, and a good God to lift me up over those little terrifying snails.Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-89790058066943095232011-03-13T16:46:00.002-04:002011-03-13T17:04:36.337-04:00SISSY SUE!!!Today is my big sister's birthday. Her name's not Sue...not exactly...although she told people her name was Buggy Sue when she was a tot. Mom cleared that up for her, though. Her name is Angie...I call her Ang (pronouncing it like "bang" or "dang.") I try to avoid calling her That Dang Ang. It's better for my health.<br /><br />Anyway, today's her birthday so I decided to blog about her. Guess it's also her lucky day!! ha ha See, I thought about an e-card and while there are some doozies out there, I thought maybe some actual thought on my part would be a better gift. So here we go....<br /><br />Ang is one of the most interesting people I know...and I mean it in a good way. Though some eyes may pop and get that slightly worried look when first exposed to her humor, it is something I really appreciate. She is insane...the best form of insane. She is creative...incredibly so...and in many different ways. In her writing, in sewing, in decorating, in pet acquisition, lol, and the list goes on.<br /><br />She is one of the most talented musicians I know. Just sit her down at a keyboard and watch her go. Or better yet, listen. Give her a new instrument and a little time and see what she does.<br /><br />Then there's her genius brain with languages. As a small child she told Mom she was going to speak Spanish when she grew up. She's fluent. And has gone on to learn other languages to some degree as well.<br /><br />She's the mother of four children, three of them girls (this accounts for the insanity). And now she's tackling an all new world. She was recently offered a job in the field of computers and I'm sure in no time at all she'll have that mastered as well. I mean, you should see what she does with side interests...like dogs, for example...the things she can tell you about dog breeds...or lizards...or belly dancing costumes...or our ancestry...is amazing. All because she gets interested. Guess she's an all-or-nothin' kind of girl. So give her something she's working on eight hours a day and I'm sure she will stun me yet again.<br /><br />In many ways I almost envy her...the musical talent alone would be awesome...but I could never BE her. She likes cats, birds, and various amphibians. Hill don't go there.<br /><br />But best of all, Ang loves me. And I love her, too. What else could sisters want??Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-19235965750823167342010-12-27T14:22:00.006-05:002011-01-18T19:40:22.060-05:00PopeyeIf ever a life was full of blog fodder, my life was the past few months. Funny though, there's been no time to blog! And so today is catch up and blog time!<br /><br />Let's see...the last time I blogged was August and as most of you know, WOW-OH-WOW has my life changed!!...in just about every way I can imagine.<br /><br />In October, my boyfriend proposed to me on a beautiful beach in Naples, FL. THAT was a story worth blogging. But not today.<br /><br />In November, just six weeks later, my fiance and I got married in Staten Island...or should I say ON Staten Island? I don't know, but THAT was a story worth blogging. But not today.<br /><br />In December, my husband and I went off to the British Virgin Islands. THAT was a story worth blogging. But not today. Oh wait, I AM going to blog about one little bit of minutiae. In a word, "Popeye."<br /><br />What do you think of when you hear/read the word, "Popeye?" I think, "he's strong to the finish 'cause he eats his spinach, he's Popeye the sailor man."...."Toot, toot!" You too?<br /><br />But I think of more, MoRe, MORE!<br /><br />One day (on our trip to the BVI's) we were sitting down for breakfast at a restaurant at a marina. A waiter approached and told us he'd be serving us. His name? Popeye. Seriously. And so the song began to play in my mind....which also made me think of Robin Williams, who played a DANDY Popeye...which made me think of my father, who LOVED that movie and laughed hysterically throughout...and who used to watch the cartoon with me every morning before Kindergarten. <br /><br />But that's not all, oh no, that's not all! One more thing that comes to mind when I hear "Popeye" is my wonderful friend Kristen's little girl, Savannah. Why? Take a look at this ...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwtVH9TlMCNseVQDRSxHF77sBplLRxV1034si8SBvnlnu8YhTQD4vWE8wnkyKjgu_dHvBoL0b-8Co9ALQ-KzaC137qm9X3j1xD6mPUM5Cnt86FrtsNoe93VjfXNeRgiBJlFmD2MArgR-MZ/s1600/bananapopeye.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwtVH9TlMCNseVQDRSxHF77sBplLRxV1034si8SBvnlnu8YhTQD4vWE8wnkyKjgu_dHvBoL0b-8Co9ALQ-KzaC137qm9X3j1xD6mPUM5Cnt86FrtsNoe93VjfXNeRgiBJlFmD2MArgR-MZ/s320/bananapopeye.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563689517844522338" /></a><br /><br />Go ahead and say it. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.<br /><br />Note to self: MUST get more popeye shots. (I thought I had a good stash of her popeye smiles. Now where did I put them Hmmmmm...)Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-64845305239842761922010-08-30T21:25:00.004-04:002010-08-30T21:59:04.210-04:00The Woooshee TubeYou can't have an afternoon like I did and not blog about it. You just can't. Some of you saw the skeleton of this post on Facebook. Prepare for the full fleshed-out blog version now...or click that little x up on your tab, lest you be bored.<br /><br />The last week I've worked long hours at school and not even begun to be caught up. There's just a mountain of work to teaching, especially at the beginning of the year. But today was different. I knew I needed to get home because the afternoon and evening would be rush-rush-rush! So I took off only an hour after quitting time. I got home to take over the care of my girls. Mom had things she needed to go do. When I got home I realized I needed to pay my car payment TODAY so Mom agreed to delay while I ran and did that. No problem. I'd rush to the bank, get back, and Mom could go. Easy.<br /><br />Or not.<br /><br />I went to the bank. Everything went smoothly. I drove home, turned into my drive, put the car in park, turned off the engine, pulled out the key, and turned to the passenger seat to snatch up my purse, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? Why it was this little thingamabob...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Yc_xScqv0hx95Zqj9luSed6Fr-p6C7TpAd43O7fnnhVsaX-G31pAl7USxGfgymz4p1RkdtdWUIRWE5T5HzddDrUYyWmD-y7gxZM3p5eAFCqRzAWnxrkNZAVrSh2QKUXxkgDtyAPSbGGO/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Yc_xScqv0hx95Zqj9luSed6Fr-p6C7TpAd43O7fnnhVsaX-G31pAl7USxGfgymz4p1RkdtdWUIRWE5T5HzddDrUYyWmD-y7gxZM3p5eAFCqRzAWnxrkNZAVrSh2QKUXxkgDtyAPSbGGO/s320/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511381461538557506" /></a><br />It's the little cylinder that goes in the woooshee tube at the bank's drive-thru. I cracked up and ran in the house with my woooshee tube to show my mother. Alli met me at the door with, "WOW! THEY LET YOU KEEP THOSE THINGS?!?!!" I told her no and ran on past to confess my deed to my mother.<br /><br />I don't remember if Mom laughed. I was laughing too hard to know, really. She recommended I take it back immediately, lest they come after me, lol. So I did. I called them on the way to let them know what I'd done and that I was on my way back with the woooshee tube. I didn't want them sending the police after me, lol. Great headline: Local teacher steals bank woooshee tube. The lady on the phone sounded pretty amazed that I had the tube. (Imagine that...like no one else has done that before???) So anyway. I head back to the bank, pull right up to the woooshee thing and put the tube back in. I glanced at the window and couldn't believe my eyes. Not ONE person looking. I thought for sure there'd be half the bank employees with their noses pressed up against the glass to see who the ding-dong was that took off with the woooshee tube. I was wrong....and very relieved, lol.<br /><br />I can only wonder what my next great feat might be.... Stay tuned!Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-10936356806800145442010-08-16T22:19:00.004-04:002010-08-16T22:44:38.194-04:00First Days and Heart StringsRemember your child's first day of kindergarten? When my first was ready to go, I was okay with it. It was hard to believe my baby girl was big enough for kindergarten, but she was in my school, so I could cope well enough.<br /><br />Then a few years later, her baby sister, my BABY was off to her first day of kindergarten. She was in the class next door to mine and it was still REALLY hard. I had wanted so badly to spend a year home with her, but had lost them all to day care (although she was with THE BEST, a very close, very dear friend.) So she was off to school and my heart was sad. Still...I don't think there were any tears.<br /><br />Today was my girls' first day back to school. Meg went off to 7th and Alli began 4th grade. Meg in 7th BLOWS MY MIND. But 4th grade? Just another year. Not a major landmark in my thinking. But for whatever the reason, Alli was nervous. Her first day of 4th grade and she was SO nervous. She would go from talking ninety-miles-a-minute to laughing, to complaining that she was feeling sick. I'd tell her she was going to be fine and to just breathe slowly so her tummy would calm. The usual stuff. She was clearly not sick, but had some nerves.<br /><br />We start driving to the school. About a block, maybe two, down the road, she's telling me she's carsick. I assure her she couldn't be carsick, that it's just nerves, and to keep breathing like I'd told her. Nice and slow, etc. Again she vacillates between excited talking and nervous complaints. At one point when she was feeling good, she told her sister to keep track of whichever kids weren't nice to her and to let her know...implying that she'd take care of the situation and those kids would KNOW to be nice to her big sister. It was very cute.<br /><br />We get to school and I tell her to get out of the car. She doesn't move. So I look at her and she's holding a hand to her mouth, trying to will herself not to get sick. I wait and try to reassure her. Finally she gets out, gives me a big smile for my camera, walks around the car and then...well we won't be graphic, but let's just say it wasn't pretty.<br /><br />So I debate...do I take her home? I mean, she just got sick. But then, I think it's only nerves, so maybe sticking it out would be better...get beyond the nerves, you know? Well she starts looking better and tells me she's feeling better. I walk her into her class, let her teacher know she's been sick from nerves. The teacher is reassuring to her and Alli starts settling in. Now what happens to Mom???? I start to cry. Not wailing, mind you, but I'm choked up and fighting back the tears. <br /><br />How does that work? How is it that our kids are tied so tightly to our hearts that seeing my little girl nervous over her first day of school shook me to the point of tears. I don't know how it works, but you know...I'm glad it does. I'm glad for those heartstrings and wouldn't have it any other way.<br /><br />So anyway, I gave her hugs and kisses and saw she didn't need me and off I go. THEN the tears really came. So what did I do??? I called my mommy. (Apparently those heartstrings are still intact, too.)<br /><br />Before I called her though, I thought, "You know, Satan...you're not going to win. This is going to be a positive day whether you like it or not. Because this is going to be a great year, whether you like it or not!" Then I called my mommy, finished crying, and pulled in to my school.<br /><br />And you know what? It WAS a positive day. I can't remember a first day in years where I haven't felt really overwhelmed...frustrated...even somewhat panicked. I didn't feel that at all today. And this evening? I wasn't a major success. Things ran later than I'd like, but kids' homework got done, food into bellies, hugs and kisses passed all around, and now they lie sleeping peacefully, recharging for another day of learning and growth...and loving.<br /><br />I can't believe how blessed I am. If I lived the rest of my life without another blessing besides that of two little girls that have been entrusted to me, I could still say I am blessed beyond measure.<br /><br />And one more thought occurs to me. About those heartstrings.... If we feel so strongly about our own children, can you begin to imagine what God feels for us. His heartstrings were so tight He sent Christ to provide salvation for us.<br /><br />Incredible. WAY more than hmmmmm....Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-56873016649676659112010-08-15T22:16:00.003-04:002010-08-15T22:28:06.890-04:00God is GoodYou know...there were no big thunder-cloud revelations today. There was no lottery check or instant success or suddenly sparkling house (that WOULD BE a miracle). It's just a matter of relationship. In my heart, I KNOW that God is good. There is so much that comes to us in life that I can't explain. There are times in life where I understand why people ask "Why?" I am blessed to not be a "Why?" asker. It would be my undoing, I fear. I think scripture says that it rains on the just and the unjust, no?<br /><br />But today I've felt hope and peace in my heart and I know where that comes from...or rather WHO that comes from. I can remember as a child singing, "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart." There was a verse that said, "I've got the peace that passes understanding down in my heart." Experiencing that peace...interestingly enough, leads to that joy. It does. I know it does because I feel that right at this very moment.<br /><br />My life is not perfect. It has its challenges, to say the least. I go through the ups and downs, like any other person. But it isn't circumstances that give us peace. It has been during the most difficult struggles that God has placed that peace that passes understanding in my heart and in doing so has communicated His love to me in such an incredible way. I wish there were some way to communicate that so that each and every person who wanders through this blog could feel and experience it.<br /><br />But if I can't do it, I'm not worried. God's love is so great that He WILL find the way to let you experience it, too.<br /><br />He's just that good.Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-39706622769551688062010-08-11T08:50:00.002-04:002010-08-11T09:06:49.155-04:00Hear that? No? Exactly. It's called...SILENCE.12 years, 3 weeks, and 4 days ago, my life changed...in soooooooooooo many ways. One of my mini-me's was born that day, as you probably guessed. And NO I did not figure out the weeks and days, I found it on an automatic generator thingie-ma-bob. I'm not going to bore you with all the ways my life changed, though. Just one. I think. But sometimes I ramble so don't hold me to it.<br /><br />From the get-go it was clear: Meg didn't know how to sleep and had no great interest in it. *I* happen to love sleep so much that I would claim it as a hobby if people would let me. Yes, I'm very ambitious. :) Thanks for noticing. ANYWAY, for months I fought with the fact that by 5:30 Meg was ready to start her day. Ready to babble and play and eat and all the wonderful and less-than-desirable things that babies do. Bottom line: MY day was also beginning. Forget about trying to sleep until 6 or 7. It just wasn't going to happen.<br /><br />Time passed...years passed and things improved a bit. Some days she could actually sleep until 7 or SHOCKER: 7:30, but I'm telling you, people, that took years. And I'm sorry. Despite your own opinion on the matter, 7:30 is NOT considered "sleeping in" on a Saturday. Shoot, it took me a while to concede that 9 is "sleeping in." <br /><br />But as I sit here blogging, both my girls are still asleep and it's 9 o'clock! That has left me nearly awe-struck, lol. Of course now apparently I'm getting old and "naturally" wake earlier, so I've been up for a while. But my house is quiet and my girls are resting...and there was no one to wrestle the computer away from! :)<br /><br />Finally got their sleep pattern where I want it. Now we'll get to enjoy the challenge of waking them for school next week...oh well, that's life. But I tell you what: this school schedule better not blow things and start waking them early on Saturdays again.<br /><br />That's all I'm sayin'.Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-3403783226787950072010-08-09T22:33:00.003-04:002010-08-10T11:00:57.825-04:00A Breath of Fresh AirYou know how you can miss something and not even realize it until you get it back? That's how I'm feeling these days. Like I'm breathing fresh air for the first time in a long time...and didn't really realize what I'd been missing. <br /><br />It has been so long since I've been excited about a coming school year. Recent years have found me dreading the school year as each day of my summer break passed. I've approached the year with a deep sigh and trudged back into the classroom. I haven't MEANT for my attitude to stink. I've just been stuck somewhere back in some place between struggle and survival. Ever been there? Not a fun place to be. And it's not a place you jump into. You slip into it one step at a time.<br /><br />My journey to that place reminds me of a story in the Bible. It's one of my favorite stories because it involves my favorite of Jesus' disciples...Peter. I love Peter. He was so real. He was full of flaws (I know all the disciples were, but Peter gets told on a lot.) He lived life with gusto, too, it seems. I love the story where Jesus walks on the water and Peter asks him to call him out to walk on the water, too. Jesus calls and Peter goes! And while so many of us fault him for faltering faith that found him sinking, I like to commend him for having the faith to get out of the boat. <br /><br />My journey is similar to Peter's experience. Peter started sinking because his eyes weren't focused on Christ. It's not that he wasn't WITH Christ, but his focus wasn't on Him. And with his focus off his Savior, he saw the winds and the waves and started to sink. The same thing happened to me. Over the past several years, I wasn't away from Christ, but my focus hasn't been on Him like it should. I've had my eyes on the challenges and trials and responsibilities of life and what *I* could do to face them and meet them. I slowly sank into a survivalist mode...doing just what I needed to in order to get by. Doing what I had to do to meet responsibilities but only that, nothing more.<br /><br />But just like He did for Peter, Christ has come through for me. Peter cried out to the Lord and Jesus lifted him from the sea and saved him. One day, just a few months ago, I was wrapped up in a difficult ongoing situation and thinking I should have taken something to calm my stomach so I could face the difficulty when seemingly "out of the blue" came the thought that I wasn't going into the situation alone, that Christ was going with me. With that thought came complete peace. I believe with all my heart that HE was reminding me. And since that time my outlook has changed. There's excitement where there hasn't been in a very long time. There's anticipation instead of dread!<br /><br />And so I'm facing this school year in a way I haven't in years. It feels like a breath of fresh air. I didn't realize what I was missing. I didn't know *I* could feel like this.<br /><br />And it occurs to me: Christ gives us hope. Not just hope for eternity with Him. He gives us hope for today and tomorrow, too. My heart is thankful...and enjoying the breath of fresh air.Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-28677998554615253082010-08-05T11:03:00.002-04:002010-08-05T14:02:27.727-04:00Trash or Treasure??Blogging on my phone today...<br /><br />You know the saying, "One man's trash is another man's treasure.". I'm hoping it's really true, because today is garage sale day. Ha ha. Early this morning as I sat watching people slowly drive by, eyeing all my "trash," I thought, "Ah, drat it! It's their trash, too!" Then a couple hours later, when I had melted into a sweaty little puddle and begun dreading moving all the trash back into the garage just to drag it out again tomorrow, the treasure-hunters arrived! Yay! I began wheeling and dealing like a pro! ("Pleeeeeease take it! Here! Have this too! My kids will carry it for you!)<br /><br />Funny how not too long ago all these pieces of "trash" were treasures to me. What is it about us people? We see things and think, "Ohhhhhh I need that!" or "I HAVE to have that!" And we do what we need to do to get it. Time passes and we find ourselves throwing it out or selling it...whatever we need to do to get rid of it.<br /><br />Confession: I have some strong packrat tendencies. Know what that means? It means that I have difficulty designating old treasures as trash. Which also translates to the fact that I'm struggling to regain some order in my house. Some people are okay with being that way but it frustrates me. I want my home to be beautiful and peaceful. I think a home reflects on the person who cares for it. Right now my home says I'm a chaotic mess...not quite the message I want to send. Not the person I am or want to be. So...it's on. I WILL conquer it.<br /><br />So come on people and claim these treasures!! I've got a battle to win!Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-47808649314533748892010-04-03T22:22:00.002-04:002010-04-03T22:38:00.733-04:00Up From the GraveWhat a triumphant thing, Christ's resurrection. Hope for eternity! Sin was defeated and Christ lives!<br /><br />I don't make light of that at all, but I'm going to share my thoughts...which wandered to the silly. NOT silly about Christ. Silly about words.<br /><br />When I thought "Up from the Grave," (of course it was set to the hymn's melody in my head but I don't know how to make the little music notes so we'll go with plain text)...when I thought those words, my mind grabbed at the irony. The concept of someone coming up from a grave USUALLY is spooky or creepy, isn't it? The ONLY time it doesn't strike me as scary is when it's in reference to Jesus. And then there's this wonder and awe and bursting hope.<br /><br />But back to the spooky version.... Anytime someone very near and dear to me passes away, I dream about their funeral and they ALWAYS sit up in their caskets. It ALWAYS scares the bejeebers out of me! NO MORE UPPY!!!...not in my dreams anyway. Yikes.<br /><br />And now back to the good "up from the grave,".... I cannot imagine the grief and utter desolation Christ's followers must have felt, having watched him die such a brutal death on the cross. I can't imagine their confusion, their Messiah gone when they had to have felt things were just getting started. But He was gone and how their hearts must have broken. <br /><br />I also couldn't begin to imagine their joy when they went to His grave so early Easter morning and found that their Messiah wasn't "gone" gone...but was risen and alive and triumphant over the grave.<br /><br />Can you imagine?? I think of something I can really relate to...like when my dad passed away. The next day I was on a plane, full of grief, and on my way to my parents' home for all the funeral proceedings. If I'd walked into the house and Dad had been there to hug me again and to tell me that he'd defeated cancer and was alive and well, I can't imagine how delighted I would have been. <br /><br />It had to have been similar for those who went to Jesus' grave, don't you think?<br /><br />INCREDIBLE.<br /><br />It's my prayer that the same Jesus who defeated sin and the grave will fill each of your hearts this Easter season and give you hope for this life and for eternity.<br /><br />Love,<br />HillHillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-13987764654980505452010-03-27T08:52:00.005-04:002010-03-29T21:56:41.171-04:00Harry Potter, That Age, and VisionSomewhere around nine years ago I had long hair. I also had a two year old and a new baby. The hair became a nuisance and I decided it was time to get it cut. So I went in to the hair dresser and had her work her magic. I walked out of the salon with that GLORIOUS I-just-got-my-hair-drastically-cut-and-feel-so-fresh-and-chic feeling. You know the one I'm talking about. ...unless you're a man, in which case, I'd guess I just lost you. Well...farewell then. On with the story....<br /><br />The next stop in my day was the pharmacy. As I was leaving the pharmacist's window, an elderly man, with a smile that can only be described as mischievous, said to me, "Hi Harry!" Confused, I just looked at him. Not missing a beat, he clarified, "Harry Potter...just forgot your glasses, right?" I couldn't help but laugh and walk away.<br /><br />Talk about bursting a woman's bubble. RIGHT after a brand new haircut...being mistaken for an adolescent boy. Dang it.<br /><br />Sadly, I have a history of similar incidents.<br /><br />In grade school I got my haircut really short and my dad called me, "Scott." (Reference to Scott Baio.) Just what I wanted to be...a teenage boy heartthrob.<br /><br />Same haircut, walking through the grocery store...produce aisle if anyone cares...I overheard two elderly ladies talking about me (obvious by the staring). "He looks like Albert on Little House on the Prairie!"<br /><br />Those were the glory years.<br /><br />Back to the Harry Potter story. Fast forward about three years and I'm sitting at the opthalmologists's office. I'd had a change in my vision, but apparently it wasn't significant enough to require glasses. The doctor's explanation? "You're getting to 'that age.'" I SO wanted to say, "We're not talking about my mother here, ya know." But I didn't.<br /><br />Well, bad news. The transformation is complete. I AM Harry Potter. And I have reached "That Age."<br /><br />Let's hope I use my powers for good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMuzaOsEqEaLRaIGKqMHuZJB0sfuDhHwrOP5lyQ9Yd5LYWMQsZqx4Q5jxSjg-PjDuaRdHyCfgGspqVHMxOipjQwcnOeaQCR6QT1aHOhEdD19e3arQnRyzwKVDMWf9ot3v_9d5PPsOw2-j/s1600/0323102315a.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMuzaOsEqEaLRaIGKqMHuZJB0sfuDhHwrOP5lyQ9Yd5LYWMQsZqx4Q5jxSjg-PjDuaRdHyCfgGspqVHMxOipjQwcnOeaQCR6QT1aHOhEdD19e3arQnRyzwKVDMWf9ot3v_9d5PPsOw2-j/s320/0323102315a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453298622498112018" border="0" /></a>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-24367391788719168882010-01-01T18:13:00.008-05:002010-08-07T00:30:18.360-04:00Farewell 2009...a Reflection<span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div>Stolen from <a href="http://sowhatwasisaying.blogspot.com/">Sunshine's blog...</a></div><div><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?</span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rode on the back of a chiropractor's Harley.<br /></span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span></span><br /></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If I made a resolution, I can't remember it. I don't think I made one.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Did anyone close to you give birth? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yes.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span></span><br /></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Did anyone close to you die? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Not this year, thankfully.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What countries did you visit? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">No visiting this year...oh wait. I went to New Jersey/New York with Guy. But that's not another country, is it?</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Love for a lifetime. Is that greedy?</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">April 1. My wee lil ol' heart broke.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was your biggest achievement of the year?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I don't know if I "achieved" anything big this year. I started dating again, but don't know if that counts as an achievement, per se.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was your biggest failure? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I don't know. (Aren't I being informative?)</span></span></span></span></em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Did you suffer illness or injury?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oh I had a GREAT stomach virus in November. </span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was the best thing you bought? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A little black dress.<br /></span></span></span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'd deserve an award for pointing fingers and naming names here, wouldn't I??</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Where did most of your money go?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Credit card bills...which actually shows that the question about whose behavior made you appalled and depressed should have answered "mine." Ugh, if only I could get out of debt!</span></span></span></i><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What did you get really, really, really excited about? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dating again.</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b></span></span></span></i><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? (c) richer or poorer? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a. At the moment, it's a draw. </span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span></span></span></span></span></em><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">b. Same.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span></span></span></span></span></em><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">c. Again, same.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What do you wish you’d done more of? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Writing. And devotional time. And cleaning.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What do you wish you’d done less of? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Procrastinating.</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How did you spend Christmas? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With my girls and mom.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Did you fall in love in 2009? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yes...maybe too quickly???<br /></span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span></span><br /></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was your favorite TV program? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grey's Anatomy<br /></span></span></span></i></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></strong></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I try really hard not to hate anyone. But there IS one new "difficult person" on my list.<br /></span></span></span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was the best book you read? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I don't think there was a single book that left me wishing for more...unless I read a new Lori Wick book. She always rocks. Wait...let me go peek because I think she had a new one this year.... Oh great. Can't find it, but googled and found she's had one out since March that I haven't read! Well, now I have something on my wish list, lol.<br /></span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was your greatest musical discovery? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Josh Turner...you didn't know I discovered him, did you?</span></span></span></span></em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What did you want and get? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Help. My mom came to stay with us and help me with my girls.</span></span></span></span></em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What did you want and not get? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Committed Looooooooooooooooove</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What was your favorite film of this year? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Was Mama Mia this year? Because I looooooooooooooooove it. No? How about All About Steve?</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I don't recall. You know...they say that memory's the first thing to go.</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dreams come true?? Answers??</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Folks don't usually use the word fashion and Hillary in the same sentence. In fact, it's so foreign to me that I don't even know how to BEGIN to answer this question. I just try to keep the important stuff covered. :D Yes I just said that.</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><strong><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What kept you sane? </span></span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Who says I'm still sane?</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Greg Page. Always.</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What political issue stirred you the most?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Hmmmmm....could it be the newly elected Obama and his "health bill?"</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Who did you miss?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dad</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Who was the best new person you met?</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Lyla. I got to hold her for like...an hour...when she was only a day old. ::siiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh::</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Maybe I learned that one shouldn't trust too quickly. It doesn't hurt for people to prove themselves. And it's not like I suffered a real betrayal, per se. But I jump into everything with both feet (and my heart) and give everyone the benefit of the doubt. That can really lead to hurt sometimes.</span></span></span></i></div><div style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></i><span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.</span></span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Do you know where you're going to? Do you like the things that life's been showing you? Where are you going to? Do you know?"</span></span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><strong><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Happy 2010!</span></span></span></span></em></strong></div>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-38567299575356956862009-12-25T12:27:00.005-05:002009-12-25T13:09:39.053-05:00A Perfect Christmas...It's what we all hope for, right? A perfect Christmas. Everyone "home" for the holidays. The perfect gifts. The perfect dinner. The perfect weather. Everyone getting along. Perfect traditions. Everyone healthy. Everyone happy.<br /><br />Sounds like a dream come true, but how often does it all happen? Someone in the family doesn't make it home...or you couldn't afford that certain gift or it was out of stock...or the turkey is dry and you-know-who burnt the pumpkin pie...or slush or sunshine instead of a cold snowy day...turkey making people tired and grumpy... Auntie's in the hospital...Susie has the flu...or that sad look in Granny's eye hasn't gone away.<br /><br />We wish for a perfect Christmas. We expect it and we stress ourselves over making things perfect. But think about the first Christmas. There wasn't a lot about it that was perfect, was there? I doubt Mary thought, "Perfect!" when she found out she was giving birth in a stable. Joseph probably shared her sentiment. All the political unrest at the time? Not so perfect either.<br /><br />But one thing WAS perfect: God sent a Savior to all of us. <br /><br />Well, I had a college professor who shared a little devotional thought just before our final exam one year. It was the BEST Christmas devotional I've ever heard. I sat there listening, totally hooked, but after the final, I wrote down notes. I can't find them anymore, so I won't do justice to what she shared with us but I want to share what I remember.<br /><br />Rather than worry and stress over making things perfect, look with me for a moment at the original Christmas story. We all know the basics of Jesus being born to Mary in a rugged manger, etc. But let's look at more than that. Let's look at what the angels had to say.<br /><br />They appeared months before...to Zechariah (the husband of Elizabeth who was Mary's cousin). The angel came to tell him that Elizabeth, who was barren, was going to give birth to John the Baptist...who would pave the way for Jesus. When the angel first appeared to Zechariah he was afraid. And the angel spoke, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard."<br /><br />Six months later, another angel, Gabriel, came, this time appearing to Mary. Gabriel greeted her and Mary was troubled and wondered at his greeting. So Gabriel said, "Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God."<br /><br />Then came Joseph's turn. He was troubled over Mary's pregnancy and had decided to divorce her quietly. But an angel came to him and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife...."<br /><br />Finally came Jesus birth and there were the shepherds not far from his birthplace. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.'" Then they went on to announce Christ the Savior's birth.<br /><br />Over and over, the angels appeared to people...humans...like you and me. And each time the people were afraid, worried, scared. And every time the angels told them, "Do not be afraid." Words of assurance..."your prayer has been heard"..."you've found favor with God"..."I bring you good news: A Savoir is born!"<br /><br />So what do you say? Why don't we lay down our worries...or better yet, give them up to the same God who sent those angels (and His Son) to people like you and me.<br /><br />It Came Upon a Midnight Clear's third verse says...<br /><br /><em>"O ye beneath life's crushing load, </em><em>Whose forms are bending low,</em><br /><em>Who toil along the climbing way </em><em>With painful steps and slow;</em><br /><em>Look now, for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing;</em><br /><em>Oh rest beside the weary road And hear the angels sing."</em><br /><em></em><br />Merry Christmas, everyone. I pray that all of you can find rest and peace during this season. God bless you all. I love you!<br /><em></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm sorry it's a bit late. It was supposed to be my Christmas Eve post, but a virus tied up my computer.</span>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-39690393940247774702009-12-01T15:42:00.002-05:002009-12-01T15:55:01.432-05:00What To Do, What To Do...Man oh man, how I wish I could figure out what type of occupation would be...satisfying. As y'all know from previous posts, I'm on the lookout for a different job. For now I'm looking within the school system. (I'm desperate enough that I applied for Middle School today!) For personal reasons (like being there in the summer for my girls) it's a must. But I sincerely wish I could figure out what I REALLY want to do. <br /><br />It's true that I dream of writing a novel. But honestly, part of me's afraid of that. What if I write and someone thinks it's ridiculous...like someone who's opinion I value. I mean, WHAT IF I wrote a novel well enough that it got published but people near and dear to me thought it was hokey or something. Or stupid. Or...whatever. Nevermind the little detail of actually writing something good enough to get published, lol. Who worries about that? Pfffft.<br /><br />Know what? I'm a nerd. Self-proclaimed nerd, thank you very much. Okay, okay, other people have told me so, too. Or wait...maybe I'm a geek. Sometimes it's hard to differentiate betwixt the two. I like stuff like typing. I like short sweet projects that are in and out in a short time. Not something that takes months. I like creative things. I like working with graphics on my computer (not like I'm a trained pro, but I can play, baby!) lol I like things like...bouquets of sharpened pencils. Okay, that part's not true. But it's a fun part of "You've Got Mail." :D <br /><br />AND I like technology. I like every new gadget that comes out. I don't OWN every new gadget that comes out but I do a bit more drooling over them than I should, probably. I like things with buttons. (Ok, Wiggles fans, I hope ALL of you burst out in "What's This Button For?" because secretly that's been my theme song for years now.)<br /><br />And I love books. I love them so much that I ENJOYED working in the book section of a shipping department of a publishing house...because I was dealing with books. It wasn't like I got to sit and read them. I was picking them up and putting them with order forms and off they went to some lucky soul. But I liked it because it was books.<br /><br />I'm crazy.<br /><br />The end.<br /><br />Sign up below to order your copy of my first book. Ha ha.Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-67261761202111107282009-11-25T17:36:00.002-05:002009-11-25T17:57:37.246-05:00Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'!Life can feel so crazy sometimes. And when it seems the craziest I have this tendency to want to just hunker down and do nothing...like waiting for a hurricane to move past. When it's at its craziest I just don't know where to start. Or I tell myself I don't know how to wade through all the details...or I'm just too scared. (Not in a big-bad-little-girl-scaredy-cat way, but just too apprehensive to make a decision.)<br /><br />And change? I'm very reluctant about change...unless we're talking about rearranging furniture and then, well, look out, because I LOVE to keep it moving...mix it up. There've been places I've rented that furniture could only fit in one way and it...drove...me...nuts. But other changes I'm reluctant about. Well, truly...not ALL changes. When things are rotten, I welcome change wholeheartedly. (I'm NOT stupid.) If I really like or love something as it is, I can't imagine change being good...and I resist. Well, there are some things in my life that have become increasingly rotten and to make a change would be HUGE. Huge hassle. Huge task figuring out what would be best, what would work and fit around all the details of my life, and what results do I really want, anyway.<br /><br />This week, I have begun to take action. My job has not been a good situation. I feel crushed/bruised by my superior and I have a very challenging group of students this year. The kids are FINALLY beginning to come around, but the other "garbage" is still there. I feel hurt and unwanted and it's SO hard to get up and go each day (although I'm working at even that...as much as I can.) So this week, after receiving what I think is pretty sound counsel from a friend, I started applying for other openings within our school district...a transfer. (So if you're thinking of me, you might pray for something good to come through.)<br /><br />I feel better just for having decided to pursue a change. Life will still be crazy, I'm sure, but maybe it'll be the good crazy.<br /><br />(I'm not saying Happy Thanksgiving until tomorrow.) :)Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-36104166413497225782009-11-23T23:03:00.003-05:002009-11-23T23:14:01.599-05:00Say wha???I teach kindergarten...as you all know. I recently went to observe a teacher at another school to see if I could get some brainy ideas to get a better handle on my very "active" class. I've adapted several of the little tricks (for lack of a better term) that the teacher used. One in particular has led to some humor and I thought I'd just pass it on...<br /><br />When the class is being pretty noisy, losing focus, etc., I raise my hand high and say, "Give me five." The expected response is that everyone stops what they're doing, raise their hand high, and look at me. I don't know why, but it seems to work like a charm. However, Friday afternoon, I was losing them, so I stopped what I was doing and said, "Give me five." One of the rather...challenging...little boys didn't miss a beat. He immediately said, "Give me some sugar!" Bahahaha, who can NOT laugh at that?<br /><br />Or how about this one...<br /><br />When I was observing at this other school, the teacher was doing small group reading lessons. In their story there were two ants who desperately wanted this big red juicy apple but couldn't get it off the tree. So one of their ideas was to just yell at the tree, "GIVE ME THAT APPLE!" By the end of the story they learn to ask nicely and use mannerly words like, "please." Reviewing the story, the teacher asked why the ants couldn't get the apple in the early part of the story. One little girl said, "Because he was talkin' trash to that tree!" Then there were others chiming in about "trash talkin'." Very funny stuff from a five year old. Trust me.<br /><br />Not earth shaking stuff here, but hey, it's more upbeat than last night's blog! :)...and for the record, that's something to be thankful for!Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2951727183458114902.post-38994296733902773572009-11-22T22:00:00.002-05:002009-11-22T22:40:15.612-05:00HeartachesThe Thanksgiving holiday is coming down the pike. It is...upon us. You can tell because of the massive CHRISTMAS-IN-YOUR-FACEness that is in every retail place these days. When it's THIS "in your face" it's undoubtedly turkey time...or past. And judging by the fact that I'm not suffering a turkey hangover, I can tell it's turkey time.<br /><br />For some reason that suddenly reminds me of a sing-songy thing we used to sing and laugh at as kids... "he's a redneck, turkeyneck" (repeat about 1000 times or until your mom gives you that look.)<br /><br />Anyway, it's time for digging deep and sharing what we're thankful for, right? I have SO much to be thankful for...but I don't feel it right now...which is downright shameful. (And I don't mean that flippantly.)<br /><br />Instead I feel overwhelmed. I feel fearful. I feel like life is going to blow up in my face and when the dust settles I'll see that I didn't measure up. I'll find out that I'm not enough...for anyone or anything.<br /><br />And there's a big part of me that figures "who can blame anyone for judging me so?" I can't think of an area of my life where I "cut the mustard." I realize that this is such a pity-party thing...but it's this big dull ache right now and I had to vent it. (Aren't YOU the lucky readers??!) I'm just not sure how to get a grip when I feel like this.<br /><br />Do you know how dangerous dreams are? Maybe some people dream the possible, but I don't think I can. I dream of things that are not attainable. I don't dream of accomplishments. I don't dream of "doing." I dream of relationships. I dream of stuff like...being chosen. I dream of stuff like...being wanted more than anything else that life offers. I dream of real true love...and finding that it can be reciprocal and not just some romantic nonsense in my head. I dream of someone seeing me, faults and all, and just loving me anyway.<br /><br />I know it happens. I have this awesome brother. (Don't tell him I said he's awesome.) He's married to his awesome little wife. (You can tell her I said she's awesome.) They love each other. Like...for real. They see the faults, but the love is there. It's solid. It's a fact. Like a universal truth. I can love that way...but what do I have to offer that someone would feel reciprocally? (Is that even a word?)<br /><br />My brother knew...he KNEW...by the end of one date, that he he had found "the one." He KNEW. I'm happy for them both.<br /><br />I just can't help but wonder how on earth I made such stupid mistakes. Did I totally mess up the plan that God had for me? Or was it meant for me to walk this road...feeling invisible and bruised?<br /><br />For the first time in years, here lately, I've felt hopeful. Hopeful that life was going to unfold in a positive way and it's not that those hopes have been smashed. It's that the fear has been stirred. What if I'm not enough?<br /><br />Tough question.<br /><br />I now return you to your Thanksgivinginess...and hope to get going here wth some humor very soon, cuz, frankly...this blog was (dare I say it?)...<span style="font-size:78%;">sucky.</span>Hillaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705309459113809600noreply@blogger.com1