tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835063314889465112024-03-04T23:43:28.422-06:00My Life SavingsFinding Joy in My InvestmentsAnn with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-68101262843223101482011-04-27T12:13:00.000-06:002011-04-27T12:13:04.381-06:00The Plight of EyeyoreIs it wrong to embrace the real you? The you that maybe some people don't like, but that you can spend your whole life trying to change and be miserable because of it? I am not talking about stealing, murdering, lying, cheating, abusing, hating, or anything sinful. Obviously those are things that imperfect people struggle with, that need to change, and those people need help to change those things.<br />
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For me, it's embracing something in me that I have struggled with for years. Something that I think I thought would go away someday, but now I think not. Today, I am sad. There is no particular reason for it, and maybe many reasons for it. Whatever the reason, it is what it is. I'm just sad today. <br />
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I have alot of days like that. Days that hold me back, and days that I have no way of explaining. But they happen to me and in me and all around me. Writing helps. Being understood helps. But nothing takes away the guilt of feeling that I am not doing something right. The guilt of thinking, "If only I would ____________". Fill in the blank with something that would heal my sadness-something I can do to make it all go away. <br />
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The truth is, I have the desire just to accept it for what it is, and work around it. I am not miserable doing that. On the contrary, I am miserable when I try to be anything other than what I am. I am what my friends call, an Eyeore. One of my friends even gave me a stuffed Eyeore doll and I absolutely love that because it means I am understood by someone out there! <br />
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Can Tigger be anything other than a Tigger. He can be just as annoying as an Eyeore only in a different way. Can an Eyeore be healed of his Eyeoreness. Can Rabbit be cured of his Rabbitness. <br />
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The point is, that I definitely have a very melancholy personality, sometimes much more than I wish to bear. I have thought for years now that I have clinical depression and I do take medication for that on a regular bases which helps extremely. I also feel like I have displayed symptoms of ADD for many years now but never wanted to admit to myself that I actually have a problem.<br />
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Knowing these things about myself has not made me a Tigger. Doing things to combat sadness, and knowing my limitations has helped , but still, the sadness comes, unexpectedly at times, knowingly at others. I cannot always explain to anyone why I feel the way I feel, but I cannot deny those feelings either. <br />
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The guilt comes when the reasons for the feelings are unidentifiable, because there is no solution. There is no fixing of the sadness, only stuggling through it, waiting for it to pass, sometimes hours, sometimes days, living life around the feelings you wish you never had. Wondering if there will be a day that you don't struggle with sadness ever again. <br />
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I don't think people understand it, and they may even get frustrated with us Eyeores because we are sad most of the time. But, I get frustrated with people who think that if you are not always smiling, then you are not right with God. That may be where some of my guilt comes from. Guilt for not feeling like cheering when asked or expected to. <br />
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The point of this whole post is simply accepting what I am. I'm human, and I am far from perfect, and one of my human problems is sadness, as much as I wish I could be Tigger. I wish I could wake up every morning and be cheery and encouraging-sometimes I am. But for the most part, I am lucky if I can get myself up at all. <br />
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I believe accepting what we cannot change, and changing what we can is the key. Sometimes others think that a person can change what that person really cannot. We place expectations on what "normal" is. When a person cannot live up to another person's "normal", that can be very painful and debilitating. <br />
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God does not place those expectations on us. He gives us grace, that we would not need if we could change the things we cannot change. God loves us. God works in us, and not the way we necessarily think He should. I have come to realize that I am where I am and who I am because of God. He made me with the personality that I have and for a reason. I have spent years of my life feeling guilty for my sadness. I now understand that embracing my humanity makes life more free, more liveable for me than it is when I am trying to change what I cannot. <br />
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I know that God is going to make all things new someday. I know that He is going to correct my weaknesses and flaws, imperfections. I simply cannot change my Eyeore tendencies into Tigger ones, and that gives me more joy and hope than I have ever had trying to change myself and feeling guilty for not being able to. <br />
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So underneath the unexplained emotions, there is a whole layer of joy that covers me and keeps me through those times I cannot walk, or breathe. The days I wish I could sleep all day, I cling to that hope of one day being free from the bondage of corruption and being delivered into the glorious liberty of the sons of God! I can walk and breathe in the spirit of God even though my flesh is weak, and tired, and sad. That makes me smile!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-66653358748338931322011-03-14T10:13:00.000-06:002011-03-14T10:13:15.517-06:00Thoughts Of DisasterMy heart goes out to the people of Japan today. Ever since the other morning when I first heard about the events happening on the Island of Japan, I have felt sorrow for all that the people of Japan must endure in the coming days, weeks, months and years of recovery. This magnitude of tragedy and loss I have never seen in my own little sphere nor do I wish to. And neither did they wish to go through this. But now, they are, and I can't even imagine the loss. Many people have lost loved ones and friends. Whole towns have been swept away. Even now there are very real threats that continue as they struggle to prevent another disaster of nuclear proportions. <br />
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There are no words of comfort that I can offer, I just pray for safety for those who have survived and recovery for the country of Japan. May God be with them.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-31212467594395113672011-03-08T10:44:00.000-06:002011-03-08T10:44:20.556-06:00Spring is coming...I cannot wait for spring to get here, and I know for sure that I am not the only one!! I can't wait to get out and pull weeds, clean away the leftover fall debris and begin preparing the soil for my vegetables. I am going to try this gardening thing again and pray like I've never prayed before that I can have a green thumb this year. I am extremely excited about eating my own, homegrown lettuce and broccoli. I am excited about finding perfect oblong, green cucumbers and ripe, red tomatoes growing out of their blossoms, and gently pulling them from the vine to my delight. <br />
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rrrrrRRRRRRRRRR...Whoa whoa whoa, wait a minute here, lady. Just back up the truck a little bit. Get your head out of the clouds. This has never ever happened in your life! Not really. I mean I "helped" grow a garden once, but it wasn't all mine and I just followed instructions, basically. <br />
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Okay, so this is the first real garden that my hands are going to dig into. It's my first real garden, well, I am hoping that it becomes that. And I so badly want to prove to the world that it is possible for Beth Molander to grow something that actually produces edible products. <br />
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So, I am venturing into to the land of dirt and worms, and I am hoping that they like me just the way I am. Just call me the Dirt Whisperer. And some weeks from now I can whisper my way to a beautiful garden of splendor. Um...Yes, I can do this. Oh, Lord, please let the dirt like me this year!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-71518734399154734322011-03-04T12:48:00.000-06:002011-03-04T12:48:43.940-06:00Lazarus Was a BumIn some sense of the word "bum", Lazarus was one. He had nobody, no stuff and no place for him. He lived in the streets where dogs were his friends and he ate leftovers from the nearby rich guy's table. Even though I don't know the situations that brought the man to rags in the gutter, in todays world, a man in his state would be considered just another bum down on his luck. Then he died-a bum. <br />
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You might know this story already. Rich guy goes to Hell, poor bum goes to heaven. Pretty cut and dry I suppose, but sometimes I think we just gloss over the fact that this sick, lonely, humbled man was the saint, and the guy with everything he needed and wanted was the sinner. Okay, I know that Lazarus was a sinner too, but something, someone saved him and left the rich guy behind. Why?<br />
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That is a question alot of people don't like to ask or answer. It's sticky, messy and can stir up a hornets nest. But using some things that God actually talks about in his own words and through other people, the hornets can be quieted. <br />
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First of all, I always hear that there is nothing wrong with having money. I am not sure where I stand on the issue of riches completely. See, God told a rich guy to go sell everything he had and give the money to the poor to get salvation. God said it was easier for rich people to pass through a needle's eye than to enter the kingdom of heaven. God took the bum to Heaven and sent the rich guy to Hell. What does that say to me?<br />
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Well, it says to me, "Maybe being rich isn't following God." But does it mean I have to be a bum in the street to follow God? I don't think so. I had a revelation today, after many weeks of torturous thoughts about the fact that we barely get by. We don't have alot of extras in my house, and sometimes we don't get all that we think we might need. But I had to pull back my layers and wrap my brain around the facts. What do I need to live in this world? Food, shelter, warmth and love. I have every one of those things.<br />
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The problem is there are so many things I REALLY want. My sister recently bought an Android phone and I was slightly jealous because that is something I really want. I am sitting at the library on the internet because we don't have it in the house and that is something I really want. I want to move to a nicer, bigger house and have a beautiful garden full of flowers and vegetables. I want a new car of my very own that stays clean all the time. Those are the things that I REALLY want. Or at least I did. <br />
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Today I am different. Today I am wondering what I am supposed to be doing-actually I have been wondering that for a long time-the last 18 months. My lovely friend told me I just need to be the best wife and mom I can be. That is something I do want to be for sure. But I have applied for a full-time job doing something I think I would absolutely love doing and would make good money doing. Visions of sugarplums danced in my head when I saw the ad in the stateline news. <br />
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More money, a new car, the internet at home, more food to choose from, more eating out, more fun, more stuff, more, more, more. I also thought about what I could give away and save, but that was probably an afterthought to my more's.<br />
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I am starting to think that I am better off having less money. Then I would have more of other things one of which is humility. How can I be like Christ when I have alot of money. He didn't have more than he needed and neither did his followers. Nowadays we think we need everything there is to offer in the world and if we don't get it then we are deprived. <br />
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My proclomation to the blogosphere is this, "WE ARE NOT DEPRIVED". I think Lazarus was deprived. He suffered. He had no food, shelter, warmth and love. He was lucky the rich guy was kind enough to give hims scraps and the dogs were there to lick his wounds. He never attained any of the neccessities of life after his stint in the gutter, but rather died there, all alone and destitute. Then the angels came and carried him to Heaven. <br />
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I sure don't want to be the rich guy, but not to avoid Hell. That has nothing to do with it for me, and if it did then I would be just like the rich man in my heart. No, I want to follow Jesus. Riches just get in the way of that, and following Jesus means giving up your wants, and trusting Him for your needs. Following Jesus means that all things truly are free for the taking but not necessary for me to take. Following Jesus means letting go of all the stuff that clutters up your little sphere of life and grabbing hold of the simplicity that is in Him.<br />
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I can tell you, that His basics ARE our necessities, and that spiritaul wealth abounds in the gutter. Humility abounds on skid row. The ability to "condescend to men of low estate" comes easier when you don't have far to descend. When you have nothing you want, that is one thing. But really, I think that you have to get to the point where there is nothing that you want. <br />
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This is where I want to live and I believe Paul called it contentment. Wherever you are at be content to stay there, and if God moves you, be content to go there. <br />
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If you are rich, I bet there are some things you could change in your life, but I don't know. I am nobody's judge. I am not rich and never have been, so I cannot counsel the rich, and would never even consider doing so. But for those of us who want more and can't have it, would it be so bad to stop wanting? Would it be so bad to just be content, even if we are bums on skid row? I know it wouldn't be easy, but not much worthy of glory or praise in God's world is easy to do in this one.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-85960881268058700862011-03-01T13:47:00.004-06:002011-03-01T14:39:17.501-06:00So You Think You Know SomeoneI am 36. I have 4 children. I don't work outside the home. I am married to an assistant pastor. <br /><br />That is who I am. But it isn't all of me. You probably wouldn't want to know all of me. As a matter of fact, there are few people who truly know what is rolled up into the package of me and still love me. <br /><br />To be honest, how many of us want to know all of someone? I mean the deep heart issues that belong to a person and make them who they are. <br /><br />People who know me and want to know me make me smile and laugh and cry and enjoy life. We click, mesh, walk together through the mire and mud of every day and understand that sometimes there won't be hearts and roses. Sometimes there are briers and thorns that hurt, and hurt bad. <br /><br />I know that it is not even remotely possible to know very many people in this manner. The very thought of knowing too many people intimately fries my brain. I couldn't give all af me to everyone and take all of everyone else. To begin with no one has that kind of time or energy, but I don't believe that is what God asks us to do at all. <br /><br />I do believe that God asks us to have that kind of spirit! The spirit that could know anyone intimately and still love them. His Son had it and we are suppose to emulate who He was. I really think that is what unconditional love is all about.<br /><br />Are you too good for someone. I have been too good for people before. I think I still find myself at times stumbling into that net and batting my way out after I come to my senses. <br /><br />Has anyone ever decided to share something with you that made you gasp and feel the urge to get them some counseling if they would let you? Oh, I sure can remember times when I made that mistake. <br /><br />I have also decided on many occasions not to share my questions, concerns or problems with even people who love me dearly because of what may happen when I do. <br /><br />My question is, should we as Christians approach everyone we ever come in contact with, with the idea that they are to be loved unconditionally, accepted without accusation, and befriended in honesty? <br /><br />Do we approach everyone this way? How in the world is that even possible, if it is even possible?<br /><br />People are people. But sometimes we don't expect people to be people. We expect them to be god-like or saintly, maybe even angelic as they live their daily lives. We think that they are perfect. And we find it hard to love them any other way than what we see them as. <br /><br />Sometimes we expect them to be horrible, awful rotten sinners. And we love them in word but maybe not in deed. We do our charity work for the month for their sake, and then we can dust our hands off after we are done with that mess. <br /><br />The way I see it, we are all trying to find our way in this world and some people have it easier than others, and some people have it harder. We are all just here together. How are we supposed to deal with each other?<br /><br />I have come to the realization that I am just this vessel that God made, and so are you, and so are they. It isn't my job to fix everyone's cracks and if I try to do that, I will never truly know anyone intimately. <br /><br />I am commanded to love, have joy, be peaceful, be patient, be gentle, be good, be humble, be self-controlled. I am reminded to be tender-hearted, forgiving and kind. I am taught to bear the burdens of others and not to judge the decisions that others make. If perchance, I desire to admonish someone, than what better way to be in a position to do that than to be an intimate friend of theirs. In Christ, we are supposed to be brothers and sisters, and I can tell you something you already know: Brothers and sisters know each other very intimately.<br /><br />I have no idea where to end. I barely knew how to begin. I just know that I want to be loved and understood as much as the next guy, and the next guy wants that too. It's what we need and what usually ends up curing a lost and forlorn soul-the spirit of unconditional love. As the children of God, that should be what we are to others.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-79727739799424195332011-02-17T10:43:00.004-06:002011-02-17T10:48:07.939-06:00Lalalalalalala....I feel a blog or two coming on. I want to blog so bad!! I just don't have the internet at home right now! I have so many things in my heart, in my mind. So many things I want to say, so little time at the library. I cannot spend my life at the library you know. I have been wanting to write and I plan to do more of it but I don't know when or how often. So I will see you then. I hope that I can bring words to this blog that will comfort and encourage, words that will lift up and give peace. I pray for that. This is not a therapy for me any more. This is a voice and I feel I should use it for something good. I am going to try. Until then... tata.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-22297020811963918102010-12-28T12:42:00.002-06:002010-12-28T13:12:24.987-06:00Christmas AfterthoughtsToday, on my way home, I had the pleasure of seeing frosted trees stuck in the snow like candles in a birthday cake. From the warmth of my car, as I listened to inspiring songs on my radio, the sun gently nudged flakes of old snow down from those trees onto my windshield. I took my time driving through the countryside, admiring the beauty of winter around me, and smiling at the fact that I could do such a thing from a cozy warm place. <br /><br />Lately, my mind has been wrapped around suffering. Or, rather the idea of it. People who suffer. What makes them smile, if anything. A cold cup of fresh, clean water? A bowl of mushy food? A warm blanket in the dead of winter? A dollar bill from the hand of a stranger? I think about it, and my heart hurts. <br /><br />Not for me, but for people. So many people in the world today are suffering. I mean the real kind, when you're so hungry your belly swells, or you're so cold you lose feeling in your fingers. Some people are so sick they fight for each breath. Some people are so beaten down that they think they are worthless creatures.<br /><br />It's all talk, I know, but my heart still hurts. So much so, that I have asked myself lately what in the world could someone like me do to help, if anything. I have my own problems in my own little world that need my attention. But is there something I could do? <br /><br />The only thing I have is me, and some time. I have words but they are not worth much to most people. I hope that this year, God would give me something important to do alongside the importance of mothering, homemaking, and helping other people out once in a while. I hope that other people get the same opportunity and jump in. Who knows what could happen if we give up some of life's pleasures to soothe other's suffering. <br /><br />Amidst the work of comforting the sufferer, I know there is joy. Pleasure that far surpasses a countryside full of snow and frosted trees. God's love can reach the deepest recesses of human pain and agony when someone touches that suffering with simple things. Simple things that so many of us often forget we need because we have them so freely. <br /><br />I have no more words, only thoughts. Thoughts towards the sufferers of the world. And thanksgiving for frosted trees stuck in snow like candles in cake.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-29940961836620483262010-09-15T08:48:00.002-06:002010-09-15T09:29:59.230-06:00I the words of a famous friend, "Shoot Me Please!".I am not a self-motivator. I come up with all these grand schemes that never come to fruition because I lack the ambition to carry them through. The excitement that comes from thinking up the idea is never enough to employ it. Once I think it all out and organze it on paper, I fizzle out and move on to the next big idea. I am an idea person. That's not a bad thing, it's just not a good thing without the other side of the coin-the motivator. <br /><br />When I homeschooled, I used to sit in bed a month before the school year was to start and write all my wonderful, amazing ideas for the year down in my handy notebook, where most of them would stay and be forgotten. I would find them halfway through the school year and think, "Boy, that sure would have been a cool thing to do." and then put the notebook away to be found next year when I would add my latest inventive notions.<br /><br />My most recent thoughtful endeavor was a plan for business. You know, the kind that makes money(Which, by the way, I am not very good at unless it's on paper. Then, it looks quite profitable). I bet you are just dying to hear the big idea, or not. Either way I guess I can say it. Maybe. No, I better not. I still might put some energy into that one. Maybe.<br /><br />The point is, I am not a self-motivated person. I am usually motivated by others, necessity, anger or guilt. And maybe most people are the same as I, who knows. I just know that I want more in life, but have not the motivation behind it, yet. <br /><br />I would like to make money, but doing something I am interested in doing. I understand that probably most people in the world aren't that fortunate. They do what they have to do to take care of their families. But I have that luxury for the time being. I don't absolutely have to work, but I want to help out my family financially, somehow. I don't want a desk job and I don't want to flip burgers. So what else is there for someone like me? Child-care? Pet sitting? Window washing? Student(this one I am not too thrilled about, but it may be necessary.)? I really have not had that "aha" moment when I see it all clear as day. Then again maybe most people don't. They just do what they have to do. But you know, I am not most people, and I really want my "aha" moment because then I, the unmotivated, would know what to do.<br /><br />It would be easy to think that I am just stalling. I mean, after all, it's a scary world out there and I'm a bit shy about working again. I never really had a great job that I loved, or made much money doing. But when I think about all the things a parent of four has to do that involves some sort of payment obligation, I cringe and think, "something's gotta give." And that something, I suppose, is me.<br /><br />I am all for working, mind you. It's all the stuff you have to do to get to that point that makes me want to run, screaming and flailing my arms. I am terrified, never mind motivated. Does anybody have a rich uncle who needs a gardener or a window washer? <br /><br />I feel like I did in the 9th grade, just before I had to give my very first speech ever. It was pretty bad, but I was motivated to get up there by my teacher and my report card. What's it going to take for me to just jump in and try this time around? Your guess is as good as mine, but it will come, eventually. Thanks for putting up with me until that eventful day, far off on the distant horizon. Can I make this thing go any slower? Please? <br /><br />I think, until that day, I always have my notebook full of ideas to keep me company. (Somebody please save me from myself!)Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-28551127012158884642010-09-09T10:21:00.000-06:002010-09-09T10:22:29.258-06:00Gone...It's official. I have completely dropped of off of the face of the planet.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-17855777505202632352010-06-17T12:28:00.003-06:002010-06-17T13:04:05.196-06:00On Blogging...I am going to humor some and try to write a post. To be honest, there are a thousand things that I could most likely write about, however I either lack interest in the subject or I fear it would simply be too deep a subject to limit to the size of a blog. <br /><br />No really, I think I am a mess in my head. It's just one big pile of blah, and even though I am trying to eek out a post I do not think I am succeeding at saying anything worthy of the written word.<br /><br />I have stayed away from writing for a long time now. I used to have so much more to say when I was lamenting about a dozen or more things in my life, but I have been trying not to complain or dwell on negative things. Hence, I do not have much to write about seeing that I have drawn upon those emotions of discontent so many times in the past and no longer wish to draw on them. <br /><br />I have never been one to enjoy writing about the daily tasks of life like doing laundry or cooking dinner, which some have notably succeeded in entertaining, or encouraging others with. I would rather ask questions like, "What is the meaning of life?" and take a crack at answering them. But I have found that the deeper conversations I have tried to have fall flat because of the lack of interest in them. And as soon as I turn to cooking, cleaning, and raising kids, there it is. Everyone shows up and we have a conversation. Maybe because that is where we find the answers to the big questions.<br /><br />As a matter of fact, as I write I am thinking, "I should really be doing some cleaning and laundry right now!!!" But I don't want to. I want to try to write this post. <br /><br />Maybe we all write posts for different reasons. But I think one of the biggest for me is to give others more insight as to who I am. I often go inward, to the deeper parts of me and wonder if anyone else out there gets me, or the fact that I even have these deeper recesses. Sometimes they are lonely places, but maybe we all have these deep lonely places in us that we wish would be filled with the warmth of friendship and understanding. <br /><br />Probably the biggest reason why I blog is the hope that something I have to say could affect someone so intimately as to make them think, or know that they are not alone in their feelings and there is nothing in this life that has not touched another as it has touched themselves. I believe the word is empathy-the power to enter into the feelings or spirit of others.<br /><br />Blogging, for me, did not start out that way. I began to blog years ago in an attempt to help myself work out the lonely and often depressing feelings I had as a young mom raising and homeschooling four children, while having no clue what she was doing. I was trying to get a clue. <br /><br />Now, I find it harder to blog because I do not need the therapuetic affects of the blog, but would rather help others. That's a taller order, even though I realize that sharing my struggles can help others.<br /><br />Well, I believe that I have reached the point of a sufficient blog. What a way to end this post, huh? I think it started off way better than it ended. But I am out of steam and I really do need to get something worthwhile done today!! Not that blogging isn't worth something. What, I am still not sure-at least not my blogging. I bid you, Good Day!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-72455962318851301882010-06-16T11:07:00.001-06:002010-06-16T11:07:41.590-06:00BLOG UPDATEI am alive...any questions?Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-16181497449363011792010-04-16T08:40:00.003-06:002010-04-16T08:59:45.858-06:00My Guy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYwcRdjXQBg5q8CDcWUAmhObM1_YuXmlT_-XwxJO0Jh6mUHGf5yuypHNyb1nE_RkSQuR1A57m_GKCkncNBkQLWnMlv8WnMqzSyUzpW-QvdtCMb37DaPTh9IT8LUoIgIUgPtozHQvbs0No0/s1600/1544.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYwcRdjXQBg5q8CDcWUAmhObM1_YuXmlT_-XwxJO0Jh6mUHGf5yuypHNyb1nE_RkSQuR1A57m_GKCkncNBkQLWnMlv8WnMqzSyUzpW-QvdtCMb37DaPTh9IT8LUoIgIUgPtozHQvbs0No0/s400/1544.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460747569636138546" /></a><br />On April 15th, twelve years ago, my first child, came into the world, and it's hard to believe he is turning into a young man. Isaac is an amazing kid, and I admire the wonderful qualities that God has given him. I look forward to watching him turn into a man, although I am a little nervous about the transition. But we all have to go through it, and hopefully he will come out on the other side no worse for the wear. Happy Birthday, kiddo!!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_H_AGX5JyWFIbdbHYMYusLcPuj1lLdgsnntBHad0ZyrzY3Ns20WF9rN8P2KWD-6Nt7WH04LaK7yYHOhpJcARlh2PM6U-wn6GXdC7SUJryy4yso3-oxKhPdz13l3UpzfZ6YXwwZkpXVdK/s1600/1724.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_H_AGX5JyWFIbdbHYMYusLcPuj1lLdgsnntBHad0ZyrzY3Ns20WF9rN8P2KWD-6Nt7WH04LaK7yYHOhpJcARlh2PM6U-wn6GXdC7SUJryy4yso3-oxKhPdz13l3UpzfZ6YXwwZkpXVdK/s400/1724.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460747563725245074" /></a>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-31313527056652820332010-04-06T20:46:00.002-06:002010-04-06T21:35:55.808-06:00So Out of TouchLately, the fight has been against myself. The battle that rages is a battle I have been fighting for years now, and I think there was a time when blogging had helped relieve some of the stress of this battle. So I am blogging about my battle once again. <br /><br />It is a battle against depression. If you have ever watched cartoons, you might be familiar with a character that was often beneath a small raincloud that followed him everywhere he went. I seem to have one of those, and I have struggled for a long time trying to fight it off. <br /><br />If you have ever had one of these clouds, then you already know that they are greatly misunderstood, especially by those who are perpetually followed by sunbeams and rainbows. They come and go as they please and you don't always know when one is on it's way, although sometimes you can smell it coming like rain on asphalt. There are things you can do to prevent the cloud or lessen it's effects, but you can't make it dissappear altogether, although the Lord knows you have tried, and prayed and cried many tears. <br /><br />That little cloud came to me today and made the skies gray and dreary. Why? I have no idea. Maybe if I hired someone to therapize me I could find out. It could be that I didn't get much sleep last night, and I feel physically yucky today. It could be that the kids are home and they woke up running, playing, and loud, which I was not in the mood for this morning. It could just be that there is no reasonable explanation but that silly little cloud over my brain that makes me feel trapped inside myself for the day. <br /><br />The depression is possibly something God has given me to keep me humble. I have thought about this for so long because I have prayed for God to take it away and He has not. Being depressed affects every aspect of a person's life, and I am thankful for the fact that this depression is not constantly on my doorstep, but when it does come, it hurts. It makes me crazy, or lazy, or both. I don't want to be around people, even my kids, sadly. It's almost like being in a bubble. Everything is going on around you but you're inside your own head trying to get out. <br /><br />It may sound horrible, but when you live with it, you have to learn how to deal with it. I have learned how to wait for it to pass, because it always does. I have learned that it does not define who I am, but masks who I truly am. I am still learning to talk about things. It is so funny how someone who loves words as much as I do would have so much trouble talking. I am learning that God has a reason for everything in my life, including the clouds. I am learning to trust Him more, and lean on people less, although He has blessed me with some truly amazing people in my life.<br /><br />I am not sure why I am blogging about my battle. Possibly, I am hoping it will help to talk about it. Or that others might understand me a little better. I am like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. I don't exactly like being Eeyore. I often hate it. But I don't know how to be any different-yet. I get jealous of people that seem to be so cheery all the time. People that seem to find the silver lining everywhere they go, in every cloud they see, if perchance they even see one amidst the sunshine and rainbows. <br /><br />Lately, I am just battling. Getting up and doing basic things that need to be done every day. Waiting for it to pass. Praying for God to take it away. <br /><br />I am okay. I have dealt with this for a long time and it is just life for me and for my family. And like I said, you have to learn how to deal with it. <br /><br />So we are dealing and it's okay, and God is good, and the sun still comes up every day and the seasons change and the world spins and life goes on. :) That's what keeps me going. Knowing God is in control, and being surrounded by so many wonderful people-especially my husband and children helps...just a little. <br /><br />So now, I'm going to go to bed and we'll see what a new day holds for me and the kids. Tomorrow is always another chance at the day.Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-16652896671611655582010-03-08T09:15:00.003-06:002010-03-08T09:22:54.790-06:00Hmmmm...I have been feeling a blog coming on but just can't seem to get it done. Maybe sometime today-or this week, or this month, or this year-I will get one written. Ah, life. It's a beautiful thing. As much as I LOVE to write all about mine I just can't seem to get it done these days. But, you know, there are times when I wonder why I blog. <br /><br />No seriously. I am not feeling sorry for myself, I just think maybe I don't need it like I used to. Blogging used to help me figure things out. But that has changed. It's more for the fun of it now, or to share something pressing on my heart. I don't rely on it for therapy.LOL <br /><br />So why am I doing it? I am going to have to think this over.<br /><br />Someone made a comment last night that they noticed I hadn't blogged in a while. This is what got me thinking. If you are a blogger, why do you blog. Let me know. I am suddenly extremely curious. <br /><br />Now I must go do some living so I may have something to blog about in the future.(chuckle)Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-6843276465763496942010-02-03T10:25:00.002-06:002010-02-03T11:12:06.564-06:00This is What I amI was in my car running errands this morning and the overwhelming feelings of some emotion came over me, as I cried and drove and talked to myself. <br /><br />I realized it wasn't the kidney stone that has interrupted the life of my family, or the death of my hard drive, or the broken washing machine, or my uncloggable toilet, or the mice we had been catching/not catching on a daily basis, or my heater not starting one morning this week, or my child still failing most of his subjects, or my unkempt house that gets clean and incredibly becomes unkempt in a matter of hours, or the mind in my head that forgets everything, or the inner struggle I am facing privately, or the constant fighting that my children are involved in...<br /><br />...no, in a breath, a moment of thought, as I gripped the steering wheel and focused my eyes out the front window of my van, I realized, I am just sad.<br /><br />I mulled this over verbally as I drove away from the shipping center where my broken hard drive now sat waiting to be returned. <br /><br />I had been trying so hard not to be angry. I had been constantly reprimanding myself for being upset over all these situations that continued to arise, week after week, day after day. I mean how bad could I have it-not bad at all compared to so many others who have lost so much.<br /><br />Yet that feeling has been lingering and has in no way been affected by my urging it to fly away and leave me be! Until today. <br /><br />I burst into tears and headed to the grocery store. "Is it a sin to be sad," I thought."Is this what grieving feels like?" Is it okay to be this sad, to let yourself feel something that you can't ignore. Loss, hurt, sadness, I can't tell myself not to feel. I have tried that. It doesn't work.<br /><br />It isn't that I am not thankful, because I am. It isn't that I have no hope, because I do. I am just sad. <br /><br />I went to the grocery store and did my shopping, and then I came home to eat and blog. I had planned on sharing my experience, and saying that I just want to be sad, knowing it would pass, knowing that it will be okay, realizing that it's okay to be sad and I can let myself feel. It's not a sin, just because people have it worse than me, to feel true human emotional feelings. It's okay to cry because life is hitting me hard right now. <br /><br />I have no great revelation to share that I am cured of my sadness, or that I feel better already, or that I am going to go save the world now. No. But if there is anything that I can tell you, it's this: No matter what anyone may think about your particular situation, you have to let yourself feel sad when you are sad. If you don't, you're going to get angry, and every little thing is going to get very, very big. Grieve, cry, stay in your jammies once in a while, whatch movies all night, whatever it is you do when your sad-do it. Let it out, and then move on. <br /><br />Putting on a happy face doesn't solve the problem-believe me. You might find yourself depressed, sitting in a fed-ex parking lot, holding back the tears just so you can muster up enough poise to walk in, drop off a package and walk out, only to get back in your car and explode in tears. Of, course, when you finally let it all out, you will feel better. I promise.<br /><br />Don't judge me. Don't judge people in general. We all have feelings. We all make mistakes. We all hurt. We all cry. We all get mad. We all need. <br /><br />And today, I am just sad. And God is sitting right here beside me while I am sad, letting me be sad and reminding me it will be okay in the end. He isn't telling me to get over it or to smile and be happy because I am a Christian. He just loves me. And He loves you too! That just made me smile to write that. He's so good. I want to be like that! I think that's why I am sad, and why I am going through this storm. And I am okay! I am at peace and I hope that you can find the same!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-32404306503118586742010-01-20T09:38:00.003-06:002010-01-20T09:51:00.465-06:00Two Little BoysTwo little boys, lyin in bed.<br />Starin at the ceiling, one of em says,<br /><br />"You be the <span style="color:#000000;">ssssss</span>, I'll be the pop!"<br />Imaginary 'crackers zoom to the top<br /><br />Of the hotel room, in the middle of the night,<br />little did they know, to mommy's delight.<br /><br />I could almost see the reds and the blues<br />light up their faces in soft mingled hues.<br /><br />Two little boys lyin in bed.<br />staring at the ceilin, doin' what he said.<br /><br />One makin' "ssssss" sounds, the other little "pops"<br />Imaginary 'crackers zoomin' to the top!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-53834414211282880022010-01-19T13:19:00.004-06:002010-01-19T14:06:27.840-06:00What Was I Thinking?I have felt led to blog for so long but the words just aren't coming. I am a thinker and it's often a curse that leads me to have many discussions with myself, and blogging is the alternative to that. So much has been going through my mind lately.<br /><br />I am learning so much from the Lord that I wouldn't even know where to start. Sometimes, He shows something when I least expect it and I am in awe. Someone trying to encourage me when they knew I was struggling with anger and child-rearing reminded me to "think on these things."<br /><br />What things? The pure, honest, just, good, lovely things in life. Christ tells us to do this in Philippians. I have read that verse a million times I am sure, but it just dawned on me in that moment as I read the note someone sent me, that I have to THINK. Dwell on, meditate on, think on the pure, honest, just, good, lovely things in life.<br /><br />I havn't been doing that. I have been dwelling on how awful my children are, and how bad a mother I am, and how I yell too much, and how I lose my temper, and how my kids get in trouble alot, and I am so hard on them, and how I need to spend more time with them, and how much they fight and how mean they can be to one another, and how selfish I can be and how I wish I could snap my fingers and change everything-and the list goes on.<br /><br />I know, how have I not shot myself yet? I don't know, but I sure am angry. I am just plain angry. Angry at myself, my kids, the world. It's not a fun place to be, and I know that I don't want to be there. The trouble is I haven't been thinking about the good things, and I am sure that if I actually gave it some good hearty thought-being the thinker that I am-I could come up with many more good, pure, lovely things to put into my head!!<br /><br />That's it. That's what I am going to do. Lovely things. Pure things. Good things. Honest things. Just things. Think about them.<br /><br />And I can share them with you too when I think of them. It may take another blog to do that- maybe many blogs!<br /><br />My first thing is memories. They always make me smile. I have a journal full of silly anecdotes involving my children as they were growing up, and once in a while I will pull that treasure off my headboard in my bedroom and share some stories with my children. Once in a while they will beg me to read the stories again and I can't resist no matter how hard I try. They will bring them up sometimes just out of the blue and say, "Remember mom?". I can't help but smile about it and neither can my children!!<br /><br />I would like to share one of those stories with you. I was driving somewhere when Zachary was three and Austin was one. Isaac was at school, I believe. My little Zachy kept saying something over and over. I couldn't hear him too well, but he did not relent. I listened closely and finally figured out that he was trying to tell me that there's a "Sot in my hoe, der's a sot in my hoe." Of course, I had absolutely NO idea what the boy was talking about but he would not let it rest, and repeated the phrase over and over again. I couldn't resist his sincerity and perserverance as he continued to try and make his momma understand him. I fixed my rear-view mirror on where he was sitting and took a peek back at him. I can still see his serious expression as he held his leg up for me. I noticed in a moment, his white, little big toe sticking out of his bright red sock. It took me a second or two, but I got it and replied to him. "Ooohhhh, there's a hole in your sock." He then, gave me a great big smile, put his leg down and turned his attention to the moving scenery out the window.<br /><br />That is one of my favorites, and there are several more.<br /><br />It's been a while since I wrote in that book. Maybe that is my problem!<br /><br />"Finally brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, THINK on THESE things." Philippians 4:8Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-15923240072397532612010-01-13T08:01:00.000-06:002010-01-13T08:04:13.689-06:00Wordless Wednesday??<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9qvNw1lVmK_VMPNqomHPU34HMedlwP3XtavloUdFbVCl3vVPios0md8wjCIxI-QAW_Yxcyi_HZ0KmABPQAQWckAFtM6WecvXfW-k1I3fC_9EDM2QrKXM9xY3wZKRIIofp9U0TyacUDcV/s1600-h/009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426224542994385698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9qvNw1lVmK_VMPNqomHPU34HMedlwP3XtavloUdFbVCl3vVPios0md8wjCIxI-QAW_Yxcyi_HZ0KmABPQAQWckAFtM6WecvXfW-k1I3fC_9EDM2QrKXM9xY3wZKRIIofp9U0TyacUDcV/s400/009.JPG" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"> Ode To Winter<br /></span><br /></div>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-76054325276819406992010-01-01T21:47:00.006-06:002010-01-01T22:30:49.893-06:00The Simple Things in Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA4I77Q-maLd7WpiiDFRZ-wU2s08r08hj6QAsfvLthWYrI0WSB76_CBIDJ0g8Waabzhfb-H7nWAiOwPHop5QP9vREZBuAcSpLnIYhXupfiML_bsO-ocxMkFD41KJFGzBndrakh1aKA3cWR/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421986552085894082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA4I77Q-maLd7WpiiDFRZ-wU2s08r08hj6QAsfvLthWYrI0WSB76_CBIDJ0g8Waabzhfb-H7nWAiOwPHop5QP9vREZBuAcSpLnIYhXupfiML_bsO-ocxMkFD41KJFGzBndrakh1aKA3cWR/s400/008.JPG" /></a><br /><div align="center">This is a goodwill purchase that I almost didn't get, but after much deliberation decided the possibility of keeping four children busy for hours on end outweighed the nagging sense that I shouldn't spend the five dollars on the box of cheap plastic and marbles.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Let's just say the five dollars has been repaid ten times over already!</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">My suspicion that boys love this stuff paid off, and they are still, at 10pm, playing with it-in between bowling sessions with Grammy on the wii.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPMuJogVF2hzINtUKpdY-9nTlvGIsHZ7zMmTfDTpJPxm3QtPc3q6ds5ErZkhKvjse6NNdGEhUA6S8CuSjiwEkrXJknq4iPi-rn7dl6dhMyViOi9UTx9p6ylYIQ-STRxvZThBcs9q0ATXh/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985900279190562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPMuJogVF2hzINtUKpdY-9nTlvGIsHZ7zMmTfDTpJPxm3QtPc3q6ds5ErZkhKvjse6NNdGEhUA6S8CuSjiwEkrXJknq4iPi-rn7dl6dhMyViOi9UTx9p6ylYIQ-STRxvZThBcs9q0ATXh/s400/004.JPG" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Ain't life grand...sometimes?<br /></div><p align="center"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985521148137730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOslKYwruKWuUl1FEqn08eheAEslJKNGL9zmSCEr1wBxbzB70m7AX78qMkzrIqchmsll3Tn91mX2k0lZscgY681LvUnlyICiD5qBf9zzUW-aONSoxUo_Xk-2NqjKbbGVjHmET1SW8ae7Q/s400/030.JPG" />Austin spent so much time sending those marbles(probably twenty-something all together including ones we already had)down the tubes and around the cyclones. I was able to get some great shots of his concentration.<br /><br /><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQaJhXAD62egrYzlVFh3IKvcHgBJNQgwUrROvFeMog3BY1pR5g0zXnvsAYUf6dDZMres-QDj5QuWGuoXYK9OX_SLaSiFUUdfEM-44u4QpsaVaSEl87pZLrVYmEYGMTycu0Qg04YIrUE19/s1600-h/027.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985512647243554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQaJhXAD62egrYzlVFh3IKvcHgBJNQgwUrROvFeMog3BY1pR5g0zXnvsAYUf6dDZMres-QDj5QuWGuoXYK9OX_SLaSiFUUdfEM-44u4QpsaVaSEl87pZLrVYmEYGMTycu0Qg04YIrUE19/s400/027.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I have always loved his little pudgy fingers-even though he is now eight.<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirITGEQ5_ODlLeNu7r-K66hyphenhyphenjl3mIFTVqZDPbKtuPkX3nornP1vgufoDKMAlDE3Q0n7_JI1sqoUZvAPlLVUuqoTx2RGitpMOcH3Rri592iXnGoJWGxmVpqmkNFrbBsDZQ0ym99KSPDyU0h/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985505832453474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirITGEQ5_ODlLeNu7r-K66hyphenhyphenjl3mIFTVqZDPbKtuPkX3nornP1vgufoDKMAlDE3Q0n7_JI1sqoUZvAPlLVUuqoTx2RGitpMOcH3Rri592iXnGoJWGxmVpqmkNFrbBsDZQ0ym99KSPDyU0h/s400/011.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Zach took some turns sending the marbles down. The boys would race their marbles, or send a bunch of them down-sometimes so many that they would get congested and stop moving.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGWswyXrmR-QTC5PQqGy5NTKxbQLwoPdAs8ksJSitneAkwSbGfVedus_oCaSnRXVDicp1NcZdR_aMS5pXw9lb5YT_4phyphenhyphen8tO_B8gPZQHBcoMBaPNO9C8JHxhAVMlXEDDrelWyYZsUmQBw/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985498219388738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGWswyXrmR-QTC5PQqGy5NTKxbQLwoPdAs8ksJSitneAkwSbGfVedus_oCaSnRXVDicp1NcZdR_aMS5pXw9lb5YT_4phyphenhyphen8tO_B8gPZQHBcoMBaPNO9C8JHxhAVMlXEDDrelWyYZsUmQBw/s400/006.JPG" /></a><br /><br />The cyclone-like the ones at wal-mart you can drop your coins into.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPWi_m43wN0976yFY48wbyOSzNGSYmls1fWBpPNr1MlFW_jf8r3keN19rc17BwfB4H1AKpsXzbgGGrkr4VN87RcEMw7Su_Cjj5eX_VwuBJnZJ0NVImbxmim6_97VT9yYmks-24Avpg-8K/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985478104941458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPWi_m43wN0976yFY48wbyOSzNGSYmls1fWBpPNr1MlFW_jf8r3keN19rc17BwfB4H1AKpsXzbgGGrkr4VN87RcEMw7Su_Cjj5eX_VwuBJnZJ0NVImbxmim6_97VT9yYmks-24Avpg-8K/s400/002.JPG" /></a> I see a budding engineer in my eleven year old. I can honestly give him something with the instructions to put it together and walk away, worry free. He always figures it out. I got him a Rubik's ball for Christmas thinking it would keep him busy for the whole trip to Connecticut. He had it figured out in an hour.<br /></div><div align="center">I love my kids and I am praying that this year is a new beginning for us. I want to learn how to be selfless and I know it isn't going to be easy.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Lord help me keep it simple!<br /><br /><br /></div><div></div>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-51562507468382736322009-12-16T11:20:00.008-06:002009-12-16T12:55:39.105-06:00A not so cheery ChristmasThe pine needles on my Christmas tree are weepy. The blasts of heat from the furnace stir the cold air in the room. I am listening to someone's Christmas music, yet the sentiment is not cheer, but sad, hopeful, meditation. <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>My life has changed, and it just so happens that it's Christmas. Last week, I lost the father I never really liked. I wanted to say that I never really knew him, which is partly true, but I knew alot about him. And I loved him. I pitied him. He lost so much joy in his life because of his bitterness and anger. He never got to share in the joys that we all wished he would have. Marriages, babies, family gatherings, Holiday sentiments...my father did not participate with his heart. I think that's all we wanted as kids-a daddy's heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now My Dad is not with us anymore and it's as if the veil has been lifted. So many things unsaid have begun to be said. So many feelings unknown have begun to flow. And life goes on. But now there is a warmth, a sentimental feeling that was barred in my fathers life. In his death, he brought five people together that have been together physically, but not in heart. We now have a mutual pain, a mutual feeling we can all relate to. I have hope in the sadness this Christmas, because of the healing I believe has come to our family. It has begun and I pray it continues!!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Part of the sadness is that I live 1,000 miles away form my brothers. I finally see a glimmer of hope and I am too far away to really capitalize on that prospect. Our planned trip to see everyone at Christmas is looking less plausible by the moment. Money is scarce this year, as I know it is for many many other people. Gifts for anyone or anything are the farthest thing from my mind!!</div><div><br /></div><div>The tears have finally come today, and I wondered if they ever would. Death is never a joyous occassion, but at Christmas it strikes the nerve a bit harder, and the heart mourns a bit deeper. It's Christmas. Christmas. Just saying the word conjurs up visions in the mind of things pleasant. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I am trying, amidst the sad but hopeful meditations of my heart, to look at the pleasant things, to soak them in, and drown out the cold, sad sentiments that chill me today. The sun is shining. The tree still looks so beautiful covered in white lights. My blessings are too numerous to count! I am sure it will not be easy as I already let my mind wander to the difficulties. I'm human! Aren't we all.</div><div><br /></div><div>But here are some wonderfully pleasant things to think on! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjR4l076ni-X-A3GFQbUG-I0B3rQ1Lgiz1btRLc0r75f0FDV104QzJPzaNkC5jXXzwwcDWsuG46DiCAKCIxtpy_guaayZ4ERHfZvGDcju-6brwVnYoE69_D3msIIzfShRzlgiCf4bIOUwl/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415906423781869874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjR4l076ni-X-A3GFQbUG-I0B3rQ1Lgiz1btRLc0r75f0FDV104QzJPzaNkC5jXXzwwcDWsuG46DiCAKCIxtpy_guaayZ4ERHfZvGDcju-6brwVnYoE69_D3msIIzfShRzlgiCf4bIOUwl/s400/033.JPG" border="0" /></a>Nephews, nieces, and siblings. I took lots of pictures!<br /></div><div></div></div><div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKycfCaegAMVC0XL-BvI2RtvaEM5prLHSw9yvTv3NZdGA4gwc6630_oj90mXl7aCThhg0AbrmNidbD6s0jLlMIb3oKj5Ze65THuL7XCNXSK-GKOakVtxMsAMo8KTZxQSdHFx86KsUhd266/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415906428196530850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKycfCaegAMVC0XL-BvI2RtvaEM5prLHSw9yvTv3NZdGA4gwc6630_oj90mXl7aCThhg0AbrmNidbD6s0jLlMIb3oKj5Ze65THuL7XCNXSK-GKOakVtxMsAMo8KTZxQSdHFx86KsUhd266/s400/001.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXMAmwGbSzYOBYGt-fuzYtlp0Okfevfk3RL2qXRZtHUsamys000g0ZBK6qg7bN8_XLaVEtmz7MU7a5PgnYSx9b9pFs1aKCLkNiaPYCRHRrlbvvAuxVwiQFbQliHi2wQI1csTKtuxRqU0U/s1600-h/017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415906415449813090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXMAmwGbSzYOBYGt-fuzYtlp0Okfevfk3RL2qXRZtHUsamys000g0ZBK6qg7bN8_XLaVEtmz7MU7a5PgnYSx9b9pFs1aKCLkNiaPYCRHRrlbvvAuxVwiQFbQliHi2wQI1csTKtuxRqU0U/s400/017.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooxantcnYMrbUXnreKIRoNdShuomGpoIj-wgzdrMsJJwdG4RoVezeFFfibs_8G9ZJpe5EOw1QkwO7F7KAhna7mq2DGS5gHEr6E0i9-eJDRfYUKo31yw_b96w5IFyhooUAqmm3NEa2iSZ_/s1600-h/038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415906430352602114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooxantcnYMrbUXnreKIRoNdShuomGpoIj-wgzdrMsJJwdG4RoVezeFFfibs_8G9ZJpe5EOw1QkwO7F7KAhna7mq2DGS5gHEr6E0i9-eJDRfYUKo31yw_b96w5IFyhooUAqmm3NEa2iSZ_/s400/038.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAaJmFuc4_PqXEjL6BnScSleSO-uz8S-1UO5bOHs2BdIz5eWXF9vSdhDW4GE3Vu_kLqCI2DaS2pGBpkJzri1c1IJ_-hOEOfiiQ_BaosuCNu08rKlQ7Vx1FiaDDn4cHSVSK6pG-vE-G_PF/s1600-h/063.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415906440848387810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAaJmFuc4_PqXEjL6BnScSleSO-uz8S-1UO5bOHs2BdIz5eWXF9vSdhDW4GE3Vu_kLqCI2DaS2pGBpkJzri1c1IJ_-hOEOfiiQ_BaosuCNu08rKlQ7Vx1FiaDDn4cHSVSK6pG-vE-G_PF/s400/063.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8P_rxX268NUiUIxncM3YIfEdTaunFfQe9sctAeaRDu-JtAw_tI2K-lE1S1qG9VsJ2hCTtqI0U9ny0bKRMJr1VrXZ7vfC8dkmdE5SYhhQQtVyfrB0RKlzQkslaGsBfo9NP7r4fvf4Sc8D/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415904000847915666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8P_rxX268NUiUIxncM3YIfEdTaunFfQe9sctAeaRDu-JtAw_tI2K-lE1S1qG9VsJ2hCTtqI0U9ny0bKRMJr1VrXZ7vfC8dkmdE5SYhhQQtVyfrB0RKlzQkslaGsBfo9NP7r4fvf4Sc8D/s400/012.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsY3ZcIKKO6kixlsRsNKrmNOx_EQQaePXdy8S2Xgkao45LYQgZ3r1QccL_DTdGhNKejTFKQ80kKXm3zlviYtAUejwyXqUiM0VR55Wfoe4XkNJ0hVtiOrUvxqvRCKngeLADwH6joz3DCXfd/s1600-h/030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415903997419692306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsY3ZcIKKO6kixlsRsNKrmNOx_EQQaePXdy8S2Xgkao45LYQgZ3r1QccL_DTdGhNKejTFKQ80kKXm3zlviYtAUejwyXqUiM0VR55Wfoe4XkNJ0hVtiOrUvxqvRCKngeLADwH6joz3DCXfd/s400/030.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV01gPXPvQhNsvycwGwAeWDwPhyphenhyphencazSJfKxTFKJsEx6dPoHEJ42NxP1cReQI4ef2HURFKRdaOfacPFRzYm37oXlTFwoRVByTJ1zKNX6kqODFuA3DFupTXWrr0XCvuojKdZSlHe5-GRRLKv/s1600-h/031.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415904017586335762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV01gPXPvQhNsvycwGwAeWDwPhyphenhyphencazSJfKxTFKJsEx6dPoHEJ42NxP1cReQI4ef2HURFKRdaOfacPFRzYm37oXlTFwoRVByTJ1zKNX6kqODFuA3DFupTXWrr0XCvuojKdZSlHe5-GRRLKv/s400/031.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LbHeQx7fTLNyEc0QgsbXKIMzqJSYSA5YPCxvoks1sjehD__HYmmkJvaFwkxJKthztGBVqhASGE-GH7M2t8OM0sBMn72o1hhUgta21eLH3z467aEOXW4aa1_fTUVNOmP2XgRzgobvEcRH/s1600-h/055.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415904036723470882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LbHeQx7fTLNyEc0QgsbXKIMzqJSYSA5YPCxvoks1sjehD__HYmmkJvaFwkxJKthztGBVqhASGE-GH7M2t8OM0sBMn72o1hhUgta21eLH3z467aEOXW4aa1_fTUVNOmP2XgRzgobvEcRH/s400/055.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrpnO6BTXJK9O8Qb5LTOkpLHBrQm1vHjEBW1iEpKu8meD0jqXw1FZM0B3S2WIdwZ5a6TJ0nEioP3uGcZgI-HtxPbLHlhwH4J_fhSwT9Pj64sEROM-YfgG72ePgJtV7zOSmc_MvCWj9sl6/s1600-h/058.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415904025064657282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrpnO6BTXJK9O8Qb5LTOkpLHBrQm1vHjEBW1iEpKu8meD0jqXw1FZM0B3S2WIdwZ5a6TJ0nEioP3uGcZgI-HtxPbLHlhwH4J_fhSwT9Pj64sEROM-YfgG72ePgJtV7zOSmc_MvCWj9sl6/s400/058.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-57345534449304449182009-11-30T11:02:00.002-06:002009-11-30T11:25:00.870-06:00Hmmmmm...<strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Sometimes, I really miss blogging. I am wasting my morning away trying to make this thing warm and cozy, because really, isn't blogging the new way of "calling"? Course, who goes calling anymore-that's like 1800's retro. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Now it's a quick comment on facebook, a note sent by email, and a three paragraph blog about my life that maybe some of the closest people to me will enjoy but for a moment. Isn't it great. No, I mean it! This whole technology era is a miracle-worker, right? I can talk to ten people at the same time, respond to questions in my email, and show everyone my latest family photos right from the comfort of my own home. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I am still in my jammies as I speak(write). Hmmmm... The only thing we can't do is share a pot of yummy flavored coffee. Maybe one day some genius will come up with the bright idea of having virtual coffee on the web. Heck, maybe it's already out there and I am just not with the program. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And now, I can even put my favorite music on my blog for your pure listening pleasure(well mine too). To top it all off-it's CHRISTMAS season and I can play CHRISTMAS music. Whoopee!!! </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Ain't life grand. Of course if yer not doing anything and you want to come calling I'll put on a pot of some kind of coffee, and we can waste the morning away getting caught up. My house may be insanely disasterous, and I may be in my jammies, but that's okay. You could wear yours too if ya want. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Oh, the joys of technology!!!! Oh the joy!! Heehee.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> </span></strong>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-26009095360687999282009-11-23T08:38:00.001-06:002009-11-23T08:40:31.574-06:00I am trying so hard to be thankful! Life is hitting me hard right now. So many things, little and big, and I am so tired.<br /><br />Maybe we all have these moments in our life when we are carrying this carpet bag full of stuff. I wish I could just dump mine out and walk away, but you just can't do that.<br /><br />I see others who are hurting and I realize how my bag of stuff is nothing compared to what they have in their lives.<br /><br />I see how thankful some people are and pray that God fills my heart with as much gratitude.<br /><br />I think I am just not used to riding this rollercoaster life. I like the merry-go-round, simple and slow. That merry-go-round disappeared months ago and I don't see it coming back for many years.<br /><br />How do you adjust? How do you go from being home all the time, homeschooling, seeing your kids all the time, just being a wife and a mom, to living in the van, seeing your kids in a rushed manner on a daily basis, forgetting half the things you need to sign, or do, or take your kids to, working, trying to build a business, never getting your house clean because your always gone, etc, etc, etc...<br /><br />I'm having a bit of trouble. And I am ashamed of my house.<br /><br />Then there's my Dad, my family. I don't know how I feel, but I know we have some decisions to be making in the very near future. I never thought I would be doing this at 35.<br /><br />I can't change anything. I know I have to step up to the plate as a mom. It's been hard, but I really need to do better in this arena! I love my kids and always want what's best for them, but my laziness can get in the way of that!<br /><br />I know that putting my feelings here makes me a bit vulnerable, but I think I just need prayer and encouragement and that is why I am writing this.I have so much to be thankful for, and I don't want my gratitude to be swallowed up by the muck of emotions swirling around in my heart! I want to be happy, if anything, for my family. They don't need a mama that is constantly grouchy and sad.<br /><br />I just have to know that God is here and He is walking me through this little tempest. I at least have peace in that.<br /><br />The computer is a bit of a trifle to me right now, which is why I have been invisible. I am sorry to those who may feel I have not been the greatest friend or sister or daughter, or that I have ignored you. It has been a struggle to merely keep in touch with my children, so I hope you understand. I have been so blessed with awesome friends in my life who I do not deserve, and I love you all! Know that I think of you often!<br /><br />I hope that everyone out there can see God's hand in their life no matter what's going on. It gets rough from time to time, but God's in it all, he's never far away. I pray that we can all see the things in our lives that matter most and thank God for them.<br /><br />Praise God and I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-4389968596787930412009-09-20T14:04:00.009-06:002009-09-20T14:51:00.907-06:00Our World Away from the World<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfIZh4i5ppTZLVgnn33N1ZXiPF6wg_tMDx-IzuJ8aQaqBojJam2u23UcZsIB6YlYvocQGQirzsC-F7Tf5Ewugm3ArcZ4LO_yyaeBwjfWEO-1j8jfxrn2PcQFkr-ET8TLZaFisGQpg9CbK/s1600-h/013.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383648559516769602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfIZh4i5ppTZLVgnn33N1ZXiPF6wg_tMDx-IzuJ8aQaqBojJam2u23UcZsIB6YlYvocQGQirzsC-F7Tf5Ewugm3ArcZ4LO_yyaeBwjfWEO-1j8jfxrn2PcQFkr-ET8TLZaFisGQpg9CbK/s400/013.JPG" border="0" /></a> There is something magical about a flowing stream surrounded by trees and sunbeams. It's another world. A far away place.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">This place is an invitation to adventure and imagination. A place to explore and dream or just play in the sandy dirt beach.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I still see what a child sees when I come here, and I wish I still had the energy of a child.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">When I feel the breeze cross my path and the sunshine warm my face as I walk through the beams poking through the trees, as I hear the rushing swish of water trickle by and see my children, shoeless, playing in it's coolness, I smile and think, "This is magic!"<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Fh9uPM7tQQv5lEGxdIGGY9cPgzn7t049R9Cghq-war2IiPN1zZF9pFxjGtTwKhnzwxzAjoGwyhqw3qrcfYDsR2UaIh3uul0whuQX2U7XYvG4Y4oZT8KzHB0NVO7uPLevvRD57CUP2YiT/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383648209366294482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Fh9uPM7tQQv5lEGxdIGGY9cPgzn7t049R9Cghq-war2IiPN1zZF9pFxjGtTwKhnzwxzAjoGwyhqw3qrcfYDsR2UaIh3uul0whuQX2U7XYvG4Y4oZT8KzHB0NVO7uPLevvRD57CUP2YiT/s400/014.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I am grateful for this enchanted place. It is hard to tell how it makes me feel in words...</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">...but as it has been said, pictures are worth thousands of words!<br /><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizm-48aevUTm34iMC9uthS4v2wDKNEy0lNHHI2XvmOB3QYXYDQD-fKxEag9pUlHObomFIaZ5CsKraLJ9z9cP0FWXD1JmTS9sQVTeDBXU0t1ANha0Rh1PdXwcKaUD1IRM5HszQepn2F-E2Z/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383648186301669730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizm-48aevUTm34iMC9uthS4v2wDKNEy0lNHHI2XvmOB3QYXYDQD-fKxEag9pUlHObomFIaZ5CsKraLJ9z9cP0FWXD1JmTS9sQVTeDBXU0t1ANha0Rh1PdXwcKaUD1IRM5HszQepn2F-E2Z/s400/008.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEE6PT6DinKwWQFeoen9GizfBGR9XKF-__d4JY_Elf4LcB3HM7h58fGpXgon30ZIDSuFVwNfJXpXF5iilboOv9iY1FYU3S1hDwf-n6x4KGIrjpzy30CFjwg9ykHMBQhL_BOmxj_wWstyH1/s1600-h/021.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383648175893522642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEE6PT6DinKwWQFeoen9GizfBGR9XKF-__d4JY_Elf4LcB3HM7h58fGpXgon30ZIDSuFVwNfJXpXF5iilboOv9iY1FYU3S1hDwf-n6x4KGIrjpzy30CFjwg9ykHMBQhL_BOmxj_wWstyH1/s400/021.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGg9aQ7oyILFZijuHPJfls1CcRVpUPEoosCN-C9SxzBoAs9td62u4r5GJjdAZOu6US-nLJfmmx-kcucae6B78fmhTbaVBdoJJM4brKVImC2roRUhVKVvaxwXZGlfaXlR8fqQn-VEAKt9v/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383647434489063602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGg9aQ7oyILFZijuHPJfls1CcRVpUPEoosCN-C9SxzBoAs9td62u4r5GJjdAZOu6US-nLJfmmx-kcucae6B78fmhTbaVBdoJJM4brKVImC2roRUhVKVvaxwXZGlfaXlR8fqQn-VEAKt9v/s400/020.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfc8UuiKl7IcjybeGqTEawgIIO_BwO5O06lbuAGJO1twkUFTdN77CXAD4Cijm-WlkxVxDuXNUraumCWe0b_BYJbubesSIVpJlwMdhZP8HnSKV0R74_gQGoVOVPIwVs_wqOoyfl1GmNx9v9/s1600-h/017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383647428047535154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfc8UuiKl7IcjybeGqTEawgIIO_BwO5O06lbuAGJO1twkUFTdN77CXAD4Cijm-WlkxVxDuXNUraumCWe0b_BYJbubesSIVpJlwMdhZP8HnSKV0R74_gQGoVOVPIwVs_wqOoyfl1GmNx9v9/s400/017.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxOzEe1MyX8Y8u9bExBmvA5oUT8ef_-0SdoQte7JH-xe8n5ezUo6snRvr_D9opjTgThr6SzSv9nzgmnMCoHMZy0dW-2P9rQ-j84VkjUTast0n2tOhbWnzakT589dr59tFw4-femk9N0Hy/s1600-h/024.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383647419304256290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxOzEe1MyX8Y8u9bExBmvA5oUT8ef_-0SdoQte7JH-xe8n5ezUo6snRvr_D9opjTgThr6SzSv9nzgmnMCoHMZy0dW-2P9rQ-j84VkjUTast0n2tOhbWnzakT589dr59tFw4-femk9N0Hy/s400/024.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjfonWhkYSa_sGj4AX_SinUCkj7uOX93r5jORWVwpY99hnzXNbiiIwoQNKIHB8POE8J38-KP5rI-wD09Ulr_k7NDmfu0Np3eGrofZgn9t4O1T8rRdBZ3vWXy2K4ZmX3XQ42p0RVfMcDuD/s1600-h/030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383647408854152354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjfonWhkYSa_sGj4AX_SinUCkj7uOX93r5jORWVwpY99hnzXNbiiIwoQNKIHB8POE8J38-KP5rI-wD09Ulr_k7NDmfu0Np3eGrofZgn9t4O1T8rRdBZ3vWXy2K4ZmX3XQ42p0RVfMcDuD/s400/030.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BByza4ewma-HWacMueVf6Nw0BQBtoC6rOgnQJxSoybxbECJ4h0F4cu7zHNL2HZk_q-fybHkpje686xqGJosxiUGe_9HprB1xWUIo3n_X3OTrgnYtTrOGskS9VdQvSKfeVQJy-9kwmEiD/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383647396732247570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BByza4ewma-HWacMueVf6Nw0BQBtoC6rOgnQJxSoybxbECJ4h0F4cu7zHNL2HZk_q-fybHkpje686xqGJosxiUGe_9HprB1xWUIo3n_X3OTrgnYtTrOGskS9VdQvSKfeVQJy-9kwmEiD/s400/033.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBEzrP0_FK_xAEnWTttUPpIvwOeX3HsZoZ8EitwkiLr4LjxkjckfK3fmfCHTLwuGKPkXieZ_MYv9lPNtl1dtZDIimJNqBoZNel8V76FY5ISpGWnhWlnTEUBzYTTwjfoHu0MdAhssTbKtN/s1600-h/038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383646497935981026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBEzrP0_FK_xAEnWTttUPpIvwOeX3HsZoZ8EitwkiLr4LjxkjckfK3fmfCHTLwuGKPkXieZ_MYv9lPNtl1dtZDIimJNqBoZNel8V76FY5ISpGWnhWlnTEUBzYTTwjfoHu0MdAhssTbKtN/s400/038.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QpQ4cmHql4snrEHA0d_Thnu51YNTDU_aSttgKxiZGUkh_dGuDrUFw7FKS6wLduz1CqQuWuyXM4vCAeoc9MKix2ff8GfbaCGB72oTCpbtkZ5AYjhbLYIUrN2cQZzAz-zEBGui_2qsV-jJ/s1600-h/036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383646485658774002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QpQ4cmHql4snrEHA0d_Thnu51YNTDU_aSttgKxiZGUkh_dGuDrUFw7FKS6wLduz1CqQuWuyXM4vCAeoc9MKix2ff8GfbaCGB72oTCpbtkZ5AYjhbLYIUrN2cQZzAz-zEBGui_2qsV-jJ/s400/036.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaCKffGLK5lZTdeB0ff7ka1RvVFRVbNzRRGMKk_IFmY12hvw2Fg3_dTa1uz8MPStheWxdfxsbULUU-ydxMnDvAJArXfx6mcAPB_dmSHSq5xEFIAA2AxJxuYsB03GMHIAssFwKRzK82Srj/s1600-h/062.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383646474500032034" style="FLOAT: left; 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MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_9k6t_mCne6dJ9Kby8E0N0suQ_Nfzj86kLzguV12YDUz5Rg9B7_hj4_pbqhQLvbCfw2nWtsEEWUDhVdzYHbzyIVGDAqs2_ZFBHm1X-4EIM90qRc0jvWrCZ9y7Ygs3BRmTHNSmeCR5P8Y/s400/025.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGu8Rse-j_0vnG5BXT5RWTRM3-dBaHmyUD0aqwhXC638zCAPK4Is_x_10mmav4_H9kVRzvNQea28XJTYywdiYU4AcrBSKcX0T4ER5ncBrfgdXT_t-a0KVDCCKdUHLAmzV5ILJIPzGmaon/s1600-h/051.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645118601380514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGu8Rse-j_0vnG5BXT5RWTRM3-dBaHmyUD0aqwhXC638zCAPK4Is_x_10mmav4_H9kVRzvNQea28XJTYywdiYU4AcrBSKcX0T4ER5ncBrfgdXT_t-a0KVDCCKdUHLAmzV5ILJIPzGmaon/s400/051.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRiN1yfpapGVgIkvTWetnAY59M4G8PaA58LFAI07Xwj3swoYkKf2Rdd76LWKRkZv__iJle6zLNU2ujyaoepS5hizA4-TLrfpi6sR7EgzqZkNH42hJuM25B_8kE9jHo2Sz7uimCuR4sSiq/s1600-h/041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645110329637810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRiN1yfpapGVgIkvTWetnAY59M4G8PaA58LFAI07Xwj3swoYkKf2Rdd76LWKRkZv__iJle6zLNU2ujyaoepS5hizA4-TLrfpi6sR7EgzqZkNH42hJuM25B_8kE9jHo2Sz7uimCuR4sSiq/s400/041.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85h7f96dDzWgGOFvvNFevxdJmFMMSLz7FbIAXLdRfZBBTFbjVBc1z8-3wticXbpPQm1qnWyTNPDsdOMmS24xrD53YgVfuaqZGpYcZ0J4_jTIk_-XLNlJgUPHvIx7bhyxcTKOe8klZMJyX/s1600-h/048.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645097503493778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85h7f96dDzWgGOFvvNFevxdJmFMMSLz7FbIAXLdRfZBBTFbjVBc1z8-3wticXbpPQm1qnWyTNPDsdOMmS24xrD53YgVfuaqZGpYcZ0J4_jTIk_-XLNlJgUPHvIx7bhyxcTKOe8klZMJyX/s400/048.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DTBw5TlKpTWKS9txVute3coOi5CT9Qy2OKfL7F5PvBhfpN_qvvtG_YnWrY5aEiy7nOShG_Ed4IBstb7Ll802fr7Y_OcHnb5r4MmAAQ3Mkjfc_b1MWn6PPBOS8lZLanw4LE9Zt_3O0eUg/s1600-h/050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645087011810674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DTBw5TlKpTWKS9txVute3coOi5CT9Qy2OKfL7F5PvBhfpN_qvvtG_YnWrY5aEiy7nOShG_Ed4IBstb7Ll802fr7Y_OcHnb5r4MmAAQ3Mkjfc_b1MWn6PPBOS8lZLanw4LE9Zt_3O0eUg/s400/050.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0-wxgICsmdqCHIFqp5SF-5PjezWJkTf8eAf7CTN_BnBs69GtK9kMLZjMV8QjiurlxlEvFneA8QKdJQSd3_YUDTkB4qRDSbZSK2jR7s49nz8J1D12GDPY24gW8ztCONf4no7kupTG9jIj/s1600-h/053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645077485175186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0-wxgICsmdqCHIFqp5SF-5PjezWJkTf8eAf7CTN_BnBs69GtK9kMLZjMV8QjiurlxlEvFneA8QKdJQSd3_YUDTkB4qRDSbZSK2jR7s49nz8J1D12GDPY24gW8ztCONf4no7kupTG9jIj/s400/053.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNQK6RpTMmeHz0w6ibtmJMXwV4Olp_fhRDTF7hKYzgwNVLGZoj0O3_Mz9pYKNUuXp9Xib6s3bG_Ly9mcIToKAg_2c0CB7p7-zEbu4DIViLgxm5pca1OsxhlCvrzLa1QkYjTMBKkvbjjtV/s1600-h/055.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644102101271794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNQK6RpTMmeHz0w6ibtmJMXwV4Olp_fhRDTF7hKYzgwNVLGZoj0O3_Mz9pYKNUuXp9Xib6s3bG_Ly9mcIToKAg_2c0CB7p7-zEbu4DIViLgxm5pca1OsxhlCvrzLa1QkYjTMBKkvbjjtV/s400/055.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I wasn't the only one who saw the magic here. Apparently a group of highschoolers had their photographs taken here. They actually got IN the freezing stream water in their prom dresses.-but I'll bet the pictures will be worth it.:)<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LPeQ5CX3NTeOjHSo2iSeSA3deq_oIuGzLew7Mdto88tA_Jbyoq25T4HJHKh19yXhA5-7V6JkbVBYzO1Oxt3QOv7c0SFwb2eUpjoherS7V4y3FTZsqXLz9axh6vmMdYFLuGTvGN3v4GGj/s1600-h/057.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644087950482242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LPeQ5CX3NTeOjHSo2iSeSA3deq_oIuGzLew7Mdto88tA_Jbyoq25T4HJHKh19yXhA5-7V6JkbVBYzO1Oxt3QOv7c0SFwb2eUpjoherS7V4y3FTZsqXLz9axh6vmMdYFLuGTvGN3v4GGj/s400/057.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiET9bJs8-ICMBm4ErDYrm3yF7f9Nj3Rv7FJWBoATGATGI_LYJQq47AiVcbTfhtMAe3T44gt3XrBKegoyLx3SEBqT0TEH41aN8iJTN4ma1yXTCpIoPZA4Uq_xiKw-hvIBKAY5rbpfctEBOb/s1600-h/056.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644075900097954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiET9bJs8-ICMBm4ErDYrm3yF7f9Nj3Rv7FJWBoATGATGI_LYJQq47AiVcbTfhtMAe3T44gt3XrBKegoyLx3SEBqT0TEH41aN8iJTN4ma1yXTCpIoPZA4Uq_xiKw-hvIBKAY5rbpfctEBOb/s400/056.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Qu4npTnXjSKF9x-_XKoyviPwKGQ42y8M8Ob3G2ouLfuew4Ag2Bgecsu1tkDgwEHp8xESdUJY83LTZki0yzL6nV9o5DeLKBUfjIkuV-e_nyagrwd0_dhguV4_-IV5aX0gvpfAAeNzkWTL/s1600-h/065.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644061911286578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Qu4npTnXjSKF9x-_XKoyviPwKGQ42y8M8Ob3G2ouLfuew4Ag2Bgecsu1tkDgwEHp8xESdUJY83LTZki0yzL6nV9o5DeLKBUfjIkuV-e_nyagrwd0_dhguV4_-IV5aX0gvpfAAeNzkWTL/s400/065.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOJcgsyTihVBs9ReEeWao0__0ya0Exr6VriTVaOPZEyYIa-9siIbreucjZXpPU019X2JY2n3cBSiFQkkeU8bLZq2EYQ1bveLhecPWm26BXAOp2JBrCYSC92woWK8Eqj2SyEpQnQHTt5TV/s1600-h/047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644050178837250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOJcgsyTihVBs9ReEeWao0__0ya0Exr6VriTVaOPZEyYIa-9siIbreucjZXpPU019X2JY2n3cBSiFQkkeU8bLZq2EYQ1bveLhecPWm26BXAOp2JBrCYSC92woWK8Eqj2SyEpQnQHTt5TV/s400/047.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Aren't they beautiful? I know, I am completely biased.:)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-63297426376430426392009-09-01T06:54:00.004-06:002009-09-01T07:24:23.565-06:00Farewell To Noise<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iEhSIg0dRvBk-vlkgIsW4o6MqLbszqLQ-huOan2V08qMY8sY6Pp-4_8tVTiBdj8FwI2R95kCPdHVheit0qGCsSA_6mxK84rnBIJUlG0fH-N7m1JAl_u_6gCQxIH9mNTsZ2vLtgIccwzU/s1600-h/236.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376482480658139138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iEhSIg0dRvBk-vlkgIsW4o6MqLbszqLQ-huOan2V08qMY8sY6Pp-4_8tVTiBdj8FwI2R95kCPdHVheit0qGCsSA_6mxK84rnBIJUlG0fH-N7m1JAl_u_6gCQxIH9mNTsZ2vLtgIccwzU/s400/236.JPG" border="0" /></a>The house is quiet. I can hear the rinse cycle of the washing machine as it spins the clothes, and fills with water. The clocks are ticking, the keys of my keyboard are clacking, and a little girl outside just screamed. My children have left the building...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWUmJrpeoJEXiTAPYAc7Kpa8ZKKLu9Amnvx97o5f7EGFqUWgNyudf6ZJZF1fLCrB7ro2jAhQ21Bs-yd8KhTzGDsTnJrvIin-tg0pq3-OxDBjdRInlR99aa454mlA1A8xch3OcLLtFyN5i/s1600-h/237.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376482465735749266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWUmJrpeoJEXiTAPYAc7Kpa8ZKKLu9Amnvx97o5f7EGFqUWgNyudf6ZJZF1fLCrB7ro2jAhQ21Bs-yd8KhTzGDsTnJrvIin-tg0pq3-OxDBjdRInlR99aa454mlA1A8xch3OcLLtFyN5i/s400/237.JPG" border="0" /></a> Twelve years ago we started the journey, parenthood, and it has gotten louder and louder ever since that day my oldest let out his first scream. I cried, daddy cried, gramma cried and it was one big happy family. Eleven and a half years later, and many hours of laughing, crying, talking, running, jumping on furniture, writing on walls, screaming, fighting, slamming doors, watching videos, playing games, eating lunch together, getting snowsuits on and taking them off five minutes later because someone forgot to pee, tying shoes, kissing booboos, hugging necks, tousling hair, putting children in the corner, discussing words NOT to use, dancing in the living room, making cookies with the kids, answering a zillion questions, kind of listening to descriptions of bike tricks being done in the alley or the cool airplane that just passed over head, restoring relationships between my kids and the neighbor kids, passing out homemade cookies, teaching math, reading and writing, etc., etc., etc., I get to hear the washing machine now.<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2QekttXpj0C8hC6-BJ-eawgm7cMRAzZCjaDq4KHOY-tar_qMIKWjdicespN_mtu5zGVnbjp5hbGRXpn1tbSd9ibAr6vfqziZoHOtxY5RKSQd7VjvOhQXFDQrWQe66xDuWl682_-1MNXo/s1600-h/238.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376482458892567490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2QekttXpj0C8hC6-BJ-eawgm7cMRAzZCjaDq4KHOY-tar_qMIKWjdicespN_mtu5zGVnbjp5hbGRXpn1tbSd9ibAr6vfqziZoHOtxY5RKSQd7VjvOhQXFDQrWQe66xDuWl682_-1MNXo/s400/238.JPG" border="0" /></a> I could say it's a beautiful sound. I could shout "GLORY HALLELUJAH, I can hear myself think." I could think of plenty of things to do with this old quiet I have rediscovered, and I am sure I will! But for now, I am basking in the memories of the noise, and watching the little ghosts come in and out of the house and run through the living room with muddy shoes on. Maybe tomorrow I'll do something with the quiet, but let me say good-bye to the noise today.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4TmM_aEHLAzYyPuz7Tp6G39dZ2b5MX648y86Jr8HFkqltyyIn6Txi-71Inc1DiXDqHTjBssz-s4k_Dzoi4NP786_xz3cX1ZTvZIoWyHJf6VMTEOQqjCUqSEsIUOpd8W9eFKzrR06bPuB/s1600-h/240.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376482445892201762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4TmM_aEHLAzYyPuz7Tp6G39dZ2b5MX648y86Jr8HFkqltyyIn6Txi-71Inc1DiXDqHTjBssz-s4k_Dzoi4NP786_xz3cX1ZTvZIoWyHJf6VMTEOQqjCUqSEsIUOpd8W9eFKzrR06bPuB/s400/240.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><em><span style="font-size:180%;">It will always be beautiful noise to me!</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"> </div></div>Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183506331488946511.post-87987099667003044132009-08-16T20:17:00.003-06:002009-08-16T20:43:34.405-06:00Trying to get out of the Funk!As a mother, there are certain things that just stab you in the heart. I have been walking around with a knife in my heart for about two weeks now because my children are all going to school in 14 days.<br /><br />Now, some may think that I am silly for feeling this way, or maybe a little crazy for not jumping for joy at the fact that I will be completely alone after almost twelve years of having children constantly with me. But, I am having such a hard time with letting them go in my heart. I taught the two younger ones school for their first two years and enjoyed doing just that. I was planning on teaching them for another year, but an opportunity arose to send all of my children to one school for a little bit more than sendig two to another. As much as I tried to run away from the idea, I couldn't pass it up, as our desire has been to place them all in school eventually.<br /><br />So, what is wrong with this momma? I think some things are just difficult to put into words and this is one of those things. I worry about my kids. I cry over them. I pray for them, and I have always wanted to be there for them no matter what. We don't have a perfect family, and there are things I often see that I want to magically snap my fingers and fix. And despite the times when they are fighting or being crazy, or just plain naughty, I love having them home. I wish I could handle homeschooling all of them, but it is just too much for me-but it is also difficult at times to have two in school and two at home-I feel split in two.<br /><br />I just don't want them to go. I know, I am crazy, right? All I have known how to do these past 12 years is be a stay-at-home mom. I am moving into this new phase of life and I am a bit nervous at the very least. I can see someone asking, "WHY???". I mean, I am going to have a quiet house-wow-what is that?? I will have an opportunity to work outside the home and help out financially. I may even be able to get my house in order and KEEP it that way.<br /><br />Despite ALL of that, I feel like this. I know, I know, it will pass. And I will be just fine. But for now, I wallow in the muck of the unkown. I never did like going there, but it's probably a good thing for me to be getting out of my comfort zone!!Ann with an Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03921132567075352540noreply@blogger.com3