tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36842835120894146102024-03-05T01:31:46.281-08:00The Errand of Earthly Angelsbuilding relationships through service and love
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-30280907981028846612015-05-18T10:01:00.001-07:002015-05-18T10:01:18.616-07:00Letters of the past, present and future...This past week I was looking over some letters I have written and others have written to me. I thought I'd like to start a series of letters. Tid bits of love saved for myself and others for a later time. I appreciate reading these and have been impressed to share some. If it's not your thing, then move right along…<br />
<br />
Letter to my daughter and future fiancé:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 4.5pt; tab-stops: -40.5pt; text-indent: -45.0pt;">
Dear
Emmeline Sage and STBSIL,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>February 15, 2015<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am dumbfounded that you are getting married!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now, you barely even talk about boys
but you do smile oddly when a cute boy walks by or yell at me when I say hi to
the popular boys at school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know you
like them but are afraid to talk about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just like you blush and try to avoid talking about puberty and the facts
of life. ;)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: -4.5pt; margin-right: -.5in; margin-top: 0in;">
Emme you have an amazing talent to
love others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have a gift of a tender
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You love your family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love watching you with your friends and
with your siblings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can play with
Eva as well as you can play with our 18 year old babysitter!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will accomplish so much!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know you will want to study, what, I don’t
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it is, you will do it fantastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My guess is you will desire to serve a
mission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I think that would be a
fantastic opportunity for you and that you could help many find Jesus Christ,
but if you choose not to go and get married instead, I will know it is because
you felt it in your heart that God wanted not to go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emme, you are at a critical point in your life right
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that you will make the best
decision to marry the right man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, look at your fiancé:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Does he work hard like your Dad? Is he a worthy priesthood holder like
your Father?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does he love you and puts
you second in his life, first being God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Does he want kids and is he good to his Mom?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Being a wife and a mother is not easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However all the hard work is worth it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have you, just as a small example! ;) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t put off having kids!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the true joy in life! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find it a privilege to be a wife to a man
that loves God more than me and who is a fantastic Father!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are so incredible lucky; you were raised
by a prefect Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, no one is perfect
but he was the perfect fit to raise you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Emme once you learn to embrace motherhood, with all the messes and
sleepless nights you will find a joy that I can’t express.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stay home with your kids; you will never see
them take their first steps again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
blessed to do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have loved
watching you grow!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have surpassed
all my expectations!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are rare!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now soon to be son-in-law, welcome to the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enter if you dare!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are so thrilled that Emme has chosen you
and you have chosen her!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is a rare
rose among thorns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I expect you to
know this and remember this for the rest of your life, Emme is as precious to
me as water is to a traveler in the Sierra’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, I have been tempted to threaten you if you hurt my daughter in the
slightest, but I too have been married a long time and know it is not easy, so
I know there will be pain, but let me teach you how to love a woman deeply and
she will respond and love you beyond your understanding; listen to all the
craziness, even if it doesn’t make sense, scratch that, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">especially</i> when it doesn’t make sense, all she needs is a nod and
say, “I know, that’s just crazy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Give
Emme wings to fly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loves to do her
own thing but she will always return home to her sounding board, aka, you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Women need to get out and socialize and not
feel guilty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let her go, smile and clean
up while she’s gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will respond
will affection and respect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Encourage
her to remember her true heritage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
is a beloved daughter of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PLEASE, treat
her as such! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that all the counsel is over, you’ll notice that I
didn’t hound on Emme as much, there is a reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had 18 years to already do that, if she
hasn’t figured out yet, good luck STBSIL!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You’ve got this! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom from the past<o:p></o:p></div>
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PS I love you more!<o:p></o:p><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-28258724970380605042015-04-14T12:51:00.003-07:002015-04-14T12:51:38.715-07:00I Won the Lottery!!!!!!!!There is no other way to express my excitement than the feelings of winning the lottery. I came home from a long and wonderful Spring Break to San Diego and Mesa when I opened my door to a perfectly clean house. I thought at first I should pat myself on the back, "Impressive Auna Leigh, way to be on top of things!" Then I looked around a bit more and I noticed my blinds were clean, my carpets were WASHED, my floors mopped, towels were washed and folded, a new Turban Twist hung by my shower, kid towels were sewn and folded. I always thought myself to be pretty clean, but dang, never THAT clean. <br />
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I knew only one person in the world crazy enough to clean my whole house, with the time and love for me. I walked next door and pounded on the door, "Ms. Maybury you've got some explaining to do!!!!" Seriously, what kind of person cleans your house, top to bottom just to, "Pay it Forward"!? I asked my sister this and she said, "Not your sister!" <br />
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I have lived in the same house for now six years and I have had many neighborly acts of kindness that have lifted me and given my self-esteem wings to fly, but this had to take the cake. Ms. Maybury already watches my kids with no warning, tutors my son in speech, wakes up at 5:40am to kick my butt at the gym, cooks me yummy sugar cookies, walks with me in a storm to return library books, etc.<br />
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Everyone needs a little Ms. Maybury in their life. I am sorry if you don't. I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have that bundle of joy and service within reach. I am forever grateful that the Lord has put an earthly angel right next door that has given me more than I am worthy of accepting. Sometimes in life you give and you give and you give and then other times your windows open and the Lord pours blessings in. Mine comes in with a hearty laugh, the biggest grin you've ever seen, jeans, tennis shoes and a heart of gold. <br />
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So, Thank You friend, thank you other friend who wishes to be unnoticed! I love you both with a kind of love that only one has for an angel in their life, Christlike love. You two made me feel like I'd won the lottery! I guess I did, to have friends that would break into my house and clean every nook and cranny. Thank you God giving me these angels. <br />
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PS. I wished I took pictures of my home when I walked in, but within 30 seconds it looked like a bomb went off. Oh the joys of motherhood!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-28725977271975513002015-01-26T18:18:00.001-08:002015-01-28T11:15:17.034-08:00swimming in wet clothesTonight as I was trying to relax and unwind in the tub, while using my nebulizer, I know, you can imagine how uncool I looked. Maybe you were more worried about me getting shocked. In case of the later, I'm writing so, we're goooood. While in the tub my two littlest earthly angels made their debut in my bath completely clothed. They laid there in there tight little clothes suctioned to their skin. Now they are running around in there wet jeggings. I should get them dressed, heck I should get dressed, but as Disney Channel plays in the back ground I sit down to pour my heart out. <br />
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I love my kids. I love my life. I feel blessed more and more every day, but that doesn't mean there are days I feel like I am swimming in my clothes, more like drowning. You get the picture? I sat in Sunday School yesterday as we were taught how to best help our children to learn. Hands were raised steadily through the hour lesson and example after example were given and I sat there with my hand in my lap and my mind racing for ideas to share. </div>
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The thing is I am usually one of THOSE people that fellow classmates hate, but teachers love. I usually have something to share that has worked or hasn't worked for me. This last Sunday was different, I kept thinking, I have no clue what I am doing. I really feel like I am winging it, 90% of the time. Honestly, I'm treading water in the massive pond of Motherhood. To tell you the truth, I hate Mommy blogs, whether its crafts, parenting, food, etc. Yes, I am well aware I am a mother blogging! </div>
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So I am keeping it real; I have no grand plan on Motherhood, no cleaning plan that works, no dinner schedule that dazzles the masses, my baby sitting co-op is slowly dying, I don't have a workout routine guaranteed to shed the weight, nor do I care to work it off right now. I lack in so many areas it makes my head spin. I am just trying to stay afloat. </div>
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I have a quote in my home, well actually I have a few of them, that reads "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain." It doesn't tell you had to harness the storm, or the five steps to a cleaner, brighter happier sky, but to simply dance. Flippin' DANCE. I had these shoes I used to wear to dances in high school and I'd say, "They make me jump higher, run faster and dance like no ones watching." Turn up the music and dance to your own craziness!</div>
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Here's to the crazy Mom's who roll down the windows and blast their horns when they drop their teenager off; the Mom who finds an extra pair of kid socks in your sweatshirt sleeve; the Mom who forgets snacks and zip locks popcorn for the starving first graders; the Mom who shows up late to a daughter half time performance, etc. You rock! We mom's adore you! All of us stand by and wish we had your style, your patience, your attitude, your hair and your adorable smile. Power to the moms! Keep swimming. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-46108979542252476042015-01-08T15:11:00.003-08:002015-01-08T15:11:58.271-08:00train wreck <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynsmnF_TwDrfzH__JFIFE_y3md0kPZUCfnqCq9-6OXUNcW5mkB5RcrbRfirtBtGzsom_FflY8Aj3HdCRKPSysJ-nnN6Q7nrEwGcyTE0LhLY5EbhLlxB-zXa7rQDcXQkQNRLo9qy5S1wo/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynsmnF_TwDrfzH__JFIFE_y3md0kPZUCfnqCq9-6OXUNcW5mkB5RcrbRfirtBtGzsom_FflY8Aj3HdCRKPSysJ-nnN6Q7nrEwGcyTE0LhLY5EbhLlxB-zXa7rQDcXQkQNRLo9qy5S1wo/s1600/images.jpeg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span id="goog_182215395"></span><span id="goog_182215396"></span>Not too long ago I got caught in a scary predicament. I was a voice in the dangerous gossip train and the conductor blew the whistle. Everyone was ordered to stay aboard as I was kicked off. As I fell, it hurt. There were tears and heart ache. I hated watching the train pull out and my friends look the other way. I saw the whispers behind my back, the look over the shoulder to make sure I wasn't listening. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut tight and never boarded that train, but I had to climb aboard to notify one fellow passenger. One. It just took one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It wasn't a fun story to tell, it was full of heart ache, deception, secrets and lies of others. I was abandoned that day, stuck in a rut, hurt deep to the bone because I had cause so much pain for my friend. I thought, "If only she could see the truth, she would know I am a good person. She would love me. She would see me as honest. And then the guilt would be gone. I wouldn't feel so darn sad and lonely." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Well as all secrets do, the truth leaked out. This time my friend took initiative and got the answers she needed. When I heard, my heart sank. The relief I had anticipated never came, my heart felt heavier because it was all true and my friend was hurting and there was nothing I could do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I tell my daughter who is in the pit of drama, aka, middle school, to keep her mouth shut. Remember the phrase, "If you ain't got nothn' nice to say, don't say nothn' at all." It's that simple. Or at <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2012/04/the-merciful-obtain-mercy?lang=eng&query=stop+it">Dieter F. Uchdorft</a> once said, "Stop it." In a General Conference for my church he said, "<span style="color: #2f393a; line-height: 18px;">This topic of judging others could actually be taught in a two-word sermon. When it comes to hating, gossiping, ignoring, ridiculing, holding grudges, or wanting to cause harm, please apply the following:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: #fefbbf;">Stop it</span>!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Six months after this ordeal I overheard some women discussing my friends predicament, good friends. I sat by and didn't participate, thinking I was safe for not casting a stone. Not until another gal spoke up and said, "Can we please stop talking about this.? I just really love her and don't want to hurt her." I sat back, I may not have been participating but I was doing nothing to stop it or protect my friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's been now over two years and finally this friend will smile at me and pull me into her arms. Before the holidays I saw her and she told me she loved me. I know her life is far from peachy but to see her heart soften and accept me for my imperfections soothes my soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I pray that we can accept others for who they are. Period. Friends need people to have their backs when the rain hits. Friends need someone to hold their hands and have a shoulder they can cry on. Don't be sucked into the drama. Stand up for your friends. Love them all the time. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">So when the gossip train arrives at your station and blows the whistle to welcome you aboard, don't hesitate to throw the nearest elephant on the tracks. STOP IT, before it leaves a train wreck at your station.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Love you- Auna Leigh</span></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-82772258076196486302014-12-15T12:41:00.001-08:002014-12-15T12:41:16.347-08:00He is the Gift<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">I am in love with this time of year. Especially this year. I decided not to send out Christmas cards and not to do neighborhood treats. I'm sorry and you're welcome. You see, I think all of us hate the rat race of Christmas and the guilty feeling we get when two dozen Christmas treats land on our porch and we haven't done one thing for anyone outside of family. I'm sorry you won't be getting my carmel pretzels this year or a fancy smancy Christmas card, but what I am really giving you is a little less guilt this season, less sugar rush for your kids, less expectation from me. So, when I smile and wave while bustling my kids around town or I'm humming a holiday tune in line at Walmart, let that be my gift to you. Simple love and Christmas joy! </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">The first Christmas gift wasn't wrapped in gorgeous paper and there </span>certainly was not any perfect bows. It was a gift of unconditional love. The love Mary had for the Lord. The love Joseph had for Mary. The love the Lord had for His son Jesus Christ. May we remember this holiday season amid the chaos and self induced guilt, our Savior who was born to save us all. </div>
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He is the gift. He is why we can live again. Here is a little</div>
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movie on the Savior that doesn't take much time:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxh7s6Hxx5WJDeMg7oUE8xMfcwKa6E2knazrvqUrqGtbLhFQ2IkwQca_MDHiZ9L3HuRNqHagMUaroYHPtr78Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Merry Christmas friends! I hope you can feel the love Jesus has for all of us!</div>
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~Auna Leigh</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-68921138435581591212014-12-09T12:18:00.002-08:002014-12-09T12:18:56.838-08:00free hugs<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't quite know how this will go, nor where it'll end. We'll just have to start at the beginning. Ever since I was a little girl I was known as a love bug. When my mom asked my sister what she wanted to be when she grew up, my sister responded, "More loving, like Auna." This was something I was apparently born with. I have a gift to love. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was always bummed out when I didn't make the dance teams, or excelled in Home Ec. I roll my eyes when I see perfectly put together moms. I've struggled for years with the knowledge that I do not possess a visible talent. It's no super human power, but I have come to realize that love is needed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We can all show our love in many ways. Kindly offering to let someone in your lane, smiling at a stranger, waving to your neighbor, or offering a middle schooler a ride. Apparently the last is a "no no". Last month when we had Arctic weather I offered a girl around twelve walking on slippery ice a ride. I rolled down all my car windows so she could see there were other kids in the car and offered her a ride. My daughter was mortified. "Mom, I don't know what it was like when you grew up but you CAN'T do that any more. Some girl at school was being followed, last week." So I guess stay away from offer kids you don't know anything. I guess most kidnappers are moms with carpoolers already in the car. ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love dropping off my kids as school and waiting to hear, "I love you Mom." even though its usually quick and not while looking at me. I love when they don't and I get to roll down my window and yell, "Honey, you forgot to say I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" I even like to add blaring music or a honk of my horn. Saying I love you is important, but showing love is magical. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEG-XUnVGfWM2wsvsdbPJjKuu59Jre65Fgb52lfbUO-IVduu-TfiFJwy_44yE7vPrI3SRoRq9bIVFEamQgPHGn-Dba2Qw-YCH2uZXZOusAuakV-We2mHEPG_DG79Lai7fmpBTH3LXztuM/s1600/20141129__20141130_A8_ND30FERGUSONJPIC~p1_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEG-XUnVGfWM2wsvsdbPJjKuu59Jre65Fgb52lfbUO-IVduu-TfiFJwy_44yE7vPrI3SRoRq9bIVFEamQgPHGn-Dba2Qw-YCH2uZXZOusAuakV-We2mHEPG_DG79Lai7fmpBTH3LXztuM/s1600/20141129__20141130_A8_ND30FERGUSONJPIC~p1_300.jpg" height="320" width="286" /></a></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Psychotherapist Virginia Satir famously said: "We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth."</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><i>Hugs are so important, there's a National Hug Day. If you don't believe me, google it. </i></span></span></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></em>
<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">f you need a hug, give a hug. </span></em></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></em></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I hugged a couple of my friends and I notice I received more endorphins and I felt happier. Appropriate physical touch helps reduce stress, and makes us feel loved and accepted. Many report that when people are in comas they respond better when they are being touched. </span></em></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></em></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have two littles that know how to give hugs. All my children love hugs and need them equally, but these two just know when you need the biggest hugs. I love getting wrapped up by my seven year old. I love how healing they make me feel. He wasn't always a cuddly one. In fact he was a very busy two and three year old. He was an angry five year old. He struggled. We tried many things. What worked for us was recognizing his strengths and focusing on them. One was his magnificent hugs. I make sure I get one hug a day from him because they didn't always come easily. </span></em></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love getting hugs and giving hugs. I love when I'm "discussing" with Mr. C and tensions are high, tears are falling and he wraps me up in a big hug. A part of me wants to push away and sometimes I do, but if I let him hold me, then slowly the tension melts away. It's not a huge miracle, BAM I feel better; rather it is a smidgen of a hope that helps resolve our differences. </span></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></em>
<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I grew up in a house that hugged a lot. We loved a lot. I guess having 5 girls and then a little brother, made us a more "touchy feely" family. I am grateful for a Dad that wraps me up in a bear hug, my mom who holds my hand, my sisters who usually do some kind of grabbing, mostly inappropriate so, aunts who remember my birthdays with lip balm, grandpa's that hug and whisper, "You're my best girl!" </span></em></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></em></em>
<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">When you're feeling down and out, happiness is only a hug away. So get out there wrap up that Christmas shopping and spread some love with a smile and if you're feeling it, a great big hug! </span></span></em></em></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-15266283724310257112014-11-19T13:57:00.002-08:002014-11-19T13:57:59.785-08:00snow angelsFor a while now I have been thinking about my dear friend Charlotte*. I knew life wasn't as peachy as she made things look, but I felt like I could never crack the outer shell. She comes to my mind often and I never follow that inner voice. Until one day I had a very unique experience. Out of the blue I texted her and simply asked how her youngest was doing and if we could borrow an old movie. She responded that they had just left the hospital for some testing. They thought it might be whopping cough. I told her I'd bring a meal over. She graciously declined, like every other woman I know would do. But I wouldn't except no for an answer. I told her that a meal would be on her porch at four regardless if she ate it or not. <br />
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I ran to the store with my day passé of two and we started down each isle. I always feel uneasy of what to bring people, because I am NOT the best cook. Yeah, I can make anything from a box, but that's about where my skills end. So I went out on a limb and bought key lime pie fixings, spring salad with fresh berries and noodles to make a soup. Nothing fancy by any means, but it was a challenge for me.<br />
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When I made it home I unloaded and said a little prayer and the neatest thing happened, unseen angels were my aid. (Only wish they would have reminded me to put salt in the bread.) Everything came together with ease and it looked and smelled wonderful. As I loaded the car this overwhelming feeling of love and peace washed over me. I knew it wasn't meant for me, it was meant for my dear friend Charlotte. I brought it in with my little assistants and talked with her 18 year old daughter. I debated there for a good five minutes, wondering if I should share this experience. I knew I had to. I said, "Sam*, will you tell your Mom that the Lord loves her. He must think she is pretty amazing because he asked <i>me</i> to tell her." Sam smiled and told me thank you for sharing and I was off and on my way to pick up the rest of my passé from school.<br />
<br />
Later I received a beautiful text from Charlotte, "I just talked with Sam. She told me everything you brought and what you said and I am sitting in my car bawling. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that and feel that right now! I had a really horrible weekend and I'm so thankful for your inspired goodness and love. You are a huge answer to prayer. I'm so humbled by what you did for us tonight. Thank you. This means more than you know." Almost, a month later I received an inspiring thank you from her husband that stated, "Thank you for responding to the promptings of the spirit. Your meal came on one of the darkest days I've had in years. Thank you."<br />
<br />
I am so grateful they responded. Most of the time when I feel prompted to do something I don't get to know the whole story. I want to reiterate the truth, that I don't share these experiences to boast in my strength, but in the Lords. <i> I </i>am nothing without my Savior, who gave all. We are all here to help others along their path. Charlotte answered my prayers years before when she came and cleaned my house with me. <br />
<br />
Recently I read this darling book, by Angel Randall. My sweet five year old picked it out. It is a sweet story of how angels are always close by and ready to assist. All these little girls needed to do was ask. It's worth the read, my kids love it and ask to read it every night, even the 11 year old who thinks I know nothing. <br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">See a need, pray for help, and then see the angels go to work. Yes, it takes effort on our part but you will be guided and directed in His work and blessed in other areas of your life. I am extremely grateful for angels that assist me daily, both seen and unseen. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-64840081238587637662014-11-10T09:54:00.001-08:002014-11-10T09:54:26.135-08:00Daily Imprints<div class="Default">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">As featured first on <a href="http://www.realimprints.org/">Real Imprints</a> today:</span><br />
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Ever
since I was old enough to talk, I always said that I wanted to be a Mom.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I idolized my Mom.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I remember when my
brother was born, I was eight years old and became his second mom.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">We bonded early on.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I would wake up in the
middle of the night when he cried.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">As he got older, anytime
he got in trouble or praised, he would reply, "Auna did it!" </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I didn't know exactly
what being a mom entailed, but the idea of holding babies all day long, feeding
them bottles, rocking them to sleep, and reading them books,</span><span lang="NL" style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: NL; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> had
me hooked.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Every woman I looked up to was a loving, nurturing
mother. <span class="Strikethrough"><span style="text-decoration: none; text-line-through: none;"><span style="text-decoration: none; text-line-through: none;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span>I thought I could do so
much, being a stay at home mom. </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I would raise a nation in
the walls of my home.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I would teach honesty,
integrity, humility and love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would teach
them their states and capitals, and maybe even </span><span lang="NL" style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: NL; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">homeschool.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I had a dream of a nice family of 4-6 kids, being raised
on whole wheat bread, no TV, great literature and love. </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Don't
tell my kids but, I don't know anything.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I basically wing it.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I shoot from the hip most days.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I use Google and Pinterest</span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">
a lot.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I fail more than I win, but I try.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Somedays I'm more on my game, and then there are days like
today, that I am still in my sweats with incredible bed head.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I am still in a crash course on mothering, eleven
years and five kids later. I have failed Patience 101, too many times to count.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Along with Love 101, Nurturing 101, Listening 101,
etc. </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I barely graduated Infancy 501, and I</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">’</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">m now starting a new
course, Preteen 101 and I am scared out of my mind. </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="color: #262626;">Here
are five little professors</span><span style="color: #262626;"> that I am trying to attend to at the same time.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I will share a tidbit of what they have taught me. </span></div>
<div class="Default">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSeGVTqb1-B1x8vxbpNBnaiwA5VcMX2PO9I4Y9T05kbKog8tUbSwcNQ4ELNuqoaZN7hueYezQSHr_-ERkVW-tl4LHe1T6Btq6I7QhSbKYc08Ld7dPLwk4e1fijynBNIlAGmN9X12PRB0/s1600/IMG_2863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSeGVTqb1-B1x8vxbpNBnaiwA5VcMX2PO9I4Y9T05kbKog8tUbSwcNQ4ELNuqoaZN7hueYezQSHr_-ERkVW-tl4LHe1T6Btq6I7QhSbKYc08Ld7dPLwk4e1fijynBNIlAGmN9X12PRB0/s1600/IMG_2863.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #262626;">This summer
we spent a lot of time on the road, and enjoyed our little family.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">One of those trips was Lake Powell.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">We had never been there
as a family.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> I had been in my youth
and absolutely LOVED it, and wanted to share it with my family!</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">So we packed up and headed south.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I am from a fun loving, sometimes crazy family.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">My Dad is always trying to kill us on the tubes,
behind the boat. </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">We play a dare game of
BUSHED, wee hours in the morning.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">This trip was jumping off
cliffs.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Many people were jumping and feeling the adrenaline
course throughout their bodies, except Brigham.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He is a cautious kid.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He is determined to try
new things and he will practice hours to get it right; although, cliff jumping<span class="Strikethrough"> </span>just
wasn't his thing. As I gazed up from the
base of the cliff, I totally understood. It took him two days and many counsel
sessions with his Dad and Uncle, until he finally made the jump. </span><span style="color: #262626;">When
he made it down, he popped out of the water with a look of triumph and pure
pride.</span></div>
<div class="Default">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="color: #262626;">Brig is
an example of determination, hard working and a magnificent negotiator.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He forces me to try hard things and really enjoy life.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He reminds me daily how I need to be better.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtIIT9yZ5Jahsk16r3nZSaSHndyMgWiZPswrOuhkjomsGybeYV8mPdNMxZy6YT_i8m3CSR0NUmgQ8UbBpe-bC0f37m5c5iZWaI0QFHf2EKG3D24zkVGY4227raxE8hNYR6HLa4awzfJg/s1600/IMG_3213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtIIT9yZ5Jahsk16r3nZSaSHndyMgWiZPswrOuhkjomsGybeYV8mPdNMxZy6YT_i8m3CSR0NUmgQ8UbBpe-bC0f37m5c5iZWaI0QFHf2EKG3D24zkVGY4227raxE8hNYR6HLa4awzfJg/s1600/IMG_3213.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #262626;">I
never know what I'll get out of Elleigh Belly. </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She likes to keep me on my toes.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She's funny, sassy and always keeps me guessing.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">One of my favorite things about this five year old, is
her ability to make a friend and make them smile.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She loves to smile and wave at people in the grocery store
and say, "Hi! What's your name?" </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I try to remind her not
to talk to strangers, but she has it all figured out, "They aren't
strangers any more." </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She makes everyone around her happy.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She once asked her teacher, "Does my breath
stink?" and then breathed in her face. </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She is my mini me.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She is a socialite and isn't afraid to be the life of
the party.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">When I entered kindergarten, my mom filled out a
questionnaire about me. At the end she said, "Auna is the kind of girl who
will dance on top of the table for you.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Please don't stifle her
enthusiasm." </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I, in
turn wrote that very same statement on Elleigh's form.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Elleigh has taught me to enjoy life, be a good friend
and keep others laughing.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYi1PpTqLfdGBw5FFB-yLPv8tfH8CTYnJ-hXmE52IkFGUbO97yFqQmb64SXfU6_bQOPof564TSytp_WIgPkdYmc27JSHbXprC2WZK06K2mmc15ctWbR5iez8QOP5HiKjbE3LwIvBM1fs/s1600/IMG_6639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYi1PpTqLfdGBw5FFB-yLPv8tfH8CTYnJ-hXmE52IkFGUbO97yFqQmb64SXfU6_bQOPof564TSytp_WIgPkdYmc27JSHbXprC2WZK06K2mmc15ctWbR5iez8QOP5HiKjbE3LwIvBM1fs/s1600/IMG_6639.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Truman has ran holes in
his shoes, literally.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">This kid is meant for
speed.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He took off last year in his running career.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">At his school they have a running program.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He had three other boys in his class that he would run
with.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">They received their 10, 25, 50, 75 and 100 mile awards
together.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">They had a healthy little competition, and if one of
them was out of town, they would be devastated that the others would pass him
up.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">One day I got an email from Truman's teacher. </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">"These boys!</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">They were running again today.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Heath fell hard.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I thought they would keep
running because they are all so competitive.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">However, they all
stopped, picked him up and waited for him until he was ready to run.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Then they all walked a lap together and then ran the
rest of the way with him."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #262626;">Truman
has a heart of gold, his compassion surpasses an average 7 year old.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I love his snuggles and especially his daily hugs.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">He knows I can't make it through my day without one.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I am taught constantly patience and love from this
guy.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
<div class="Default">
<span style="color: #222222;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">This little bit of sunshine, Eva Dahlia is wise beyond
her years.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She understands things that other 3 year olds wouldn't
get.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">This summer in McCall, we had Craig's Mom up for the
weekend.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">As any other grandma would be, she was a bit nervous
with all the kids around the water.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">By the second day we
convinced her to try the jet ski.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">As Eva watched her, she
walked out to the dock and yelled, "It's okay Grandma.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">If you need me I'll be right here." </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">It was so darn cute and
what added to the cuteness was Eva wouldn't step foot on a jet ski.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">Eva always has a kiss or hug ready.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She loves to snuggle at bedtime and wraps you up
around your neck for a bear hug and won't let go.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She told me last week, "Mom, I be nice, if you be nice.
K?" </span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She is constantly
reminding me of our agreement.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">She gives me a daily dose
of kindness and sympathy.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">I cry regularly as I
watch her grow, hoping the world won't change her endearing sweetness.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCisP4y8lafavAhTM7ds_HwnZvaEvwsd-Ov-FEwDW_PbhbfQ_s0r183EFqXr2N1LAoxeMJKEel3OE4zjrfO42z6TaEgUb7iu7PPrf-2Y3R2-wcKJJe57M47BDpgU32vSkm53ZOQZtdVI/s1600/IMG_7914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCisP4y8lafavAhTM7ds_HwnZvaEvwsd-Ov-FEwDW_PbhbfQ_s0r183EFqXr2N1LAoxeMJKEel3OE4zjrfO42z6TaEgUb7iu7PPrf-2Y3R2-wcKJJe57M47BDpgU32vSkm53ZOQZtdVI/s1600/IMG_7914.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Miss M
is always teaching me.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I am not a perfect Mother
and she reminds me every day. She calls me out on my bull crap.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span lang="NL" style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: NL; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">She's only eleven</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">, but she acts like my
mom most of the time.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I remember fighting with
her once and hearing, "Mom just stop!</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">It's not helping!" </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Slap in the face of
reality.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I hope that my guinea pig will turn out OK, and that I
don't mess her up too much.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">So far she's fantastic
and I am loving having a little diva to share shoes with.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">A few years back she was struggling with a girl at
school.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">The girl was bigger and older for her grade and made
fun of Emme and her art work.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">She came home in tears
and wanted to "just die".</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I sat with her and tried
to explain why people aren't nice sometimes.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I told her she didn't
have to be her friend and to just stay clear of her.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">She had many friends that year and I encouraged her to
play with someone else.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I even thought about
talking to the teacher and asking for Emme to move seats away from this
"friend".</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Yup, my Momma instincts
were coming out and I wanted to meet this girl and have a little
"talk".</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Well, before I could get
any of my ideas out there, she came skipping home the next day, happy as can
be.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">As it turns out I have a very forgiving daughter.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">She didn't take any of my advice.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> Instead, she invited her
to sit with her at lunch.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">She acted like nothing
happened.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">She chose to not take offense and forgive. She has taught me to forgive and love unconditionally. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I am
pretty sure this isn't your typical<span class="Strikethrough">ly</span> imprint
story, but these kids have left some very deep imprints, if not holes, in my
heart. </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">They push me to be better, to stand taller and to love
deeper.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I hope one day I will be worthy of their love.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I am not much of a great student, but I love to learn.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Helvetica; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">I hope my little professors will be easy on me; I've
never done this before.</span><span style="color: #262626; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-44386574573946787672014-10-13T10:07:00.001-07:002014-10-13T10:07:09.138-07:00secret pal<br />
It was Christmas time over fifty years ago, in a small town of Connecticut, USA. There was a young mother far away from her own closely knit family of sisters in Salt Lake City, UT. She was newly married, with two very demanding children, the youngest demanding constant care being born six weeks early. She married a man that swept her off her feet, weeks before his deployment. It was a hurried wedding, and then a long time spent apart. Naoma was her name, with crystal clear blue eyes, far skin, with brown hair. She was far from your typical Utah Mormon girl; she was glamorous. She even had a hint of mischief in her eye. <br />
<br />
As the snow fell and her heart was weakened through the ugliness of home sickness there was a faint tap at her door. She almost thought it was the wind. She slowly opened the door, and there on her doorstep was a tiny wrapped present bearing her name. As she opened the card, she read, "To Naoma, Love Your Secret Pal."<br />
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From then on every birthday, holiday and some times out of the blue she would receive a knock on her door or a random stranger giving her something from her "Secret Pal". It was sometimes home made bread, flower from a garden, a nice trinket or just a sweet card, but Naoma always felt loved living in a <span style="text-align: center;">little town across the continent from her home.</span><br />
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As the years went on, the gifts continued. Now Grandma Naoma was rather old and gray. As once declared at age 16 by a palm reader, "You'll live so long that you'll dry up and blow away." She loved telling that story and towards the end of her life she would get it all mixed up and say "I'm going to blow up and dry away!" Fortunately for us the former happen and she died peacefully a few months ago at the age of 90. We miss her so much. We miss her constant love, listening ear, games played together, food fights and her famous chocolate chip cookies and fudge.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGdWGsPandbwk7u0f0bIOwiMuvRoShaLdQ5rxTP9Itj2QEhuV0a6bC1Fdrk4hNZ8zT98bHs6CS2WItfSsP50XrVw3MW0BsOMvOtMDWzMCRrkjePvXCMpIDZlg-Qgu1vf-TXQsfuT3Yto/s1600/image-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGdWGsPandbwk7u0f0bIOwiMuvRoShaLdQ5rxTP9Itj2QEhuV0a6bC1Fdrk4hNZ8zT98bHs6CS2WItfSsP50XrVw3MW0BsOMvOtMDWzMCRrkjePvXCMpIDZlg-Qgu1vf-TXQsfuT3Yto/s1600/image-2.jpeg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naoma Elizabeth Logie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was late in the evening when an elderly lady came into the viewing room in Bountiful, Utah. She was sort of plain and stayed back for awhile. No one quite knew who she belonged to. As everyone started to leave she brought forward a tiny bouquet and set it next to Naoma's hand. She whispered softly into her ear and started walking quietly away. My dear mother-in-law walked up to her and ask how she was aquatinted with Naoma. She replied, "I am not. I am on an errand for a sister of mine in Connecticut. She asked me to bring this tonight and to tell Naoma how much she loved her. Years ago your Mother Naoma was having a pretty lonely Christmas, upon a request from her Bishop (pastor of our church) she dropped off a little present on her doorstep. That sister of mine magnifies everything she touches! You should see her garden! She hasn't stopped ever since that day and now she's pulled me into this plan when Naoma came to live with you." My mother-in-law lit up with delight! "Oh I know your sister! She was the nice lady who lived around the corner, whose garden was envied by all the congregation. She was the one who was my Mother's "Secret Pal". " They sat arms linked together and reminisced long into the evening.<br />
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Although I don't know this woman in Connecticut I dearly admire her. The simple acts of kindness she rendered continued thru the decades and were demenstrated on a regular basis. I am sure her heart is pure gold and she radiates sunshine with every step she takes. <br />
<br />
You don't have to look far for someone to serve, they may sleep in your own bed. I love the whole secret service idea. It's so fun to do surprises! The other day I planned a Surprise Birthday party for my husband in a very short 2 hours. Although his birthday is in December I thought, he's too good not to be celebrated more often. So I sent kids in all different direction; benefits of having 5 kids! Emme made the cake, boys mowed the lawn, and the girls decorated. I cooked the dinner and wrapped presents; one of which was an old pair of his underwear (gotta love kids humor)! He came home in shock and confusion, sprinkled with pure delight! I may be slightly delusional and this side of ADD but know that life is too short to not be a little crazy.<br />
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So try it. Plan a little surprise service project. See how long you can go undetected. Make it a game. Or you can be completely nuts and hire an artist to delivery a singing telegram for someone! There are no limits. Make someones day and by doing so you're day will be better too!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-34005484138908019102014-10-01T10:36:00.000-07:002015-01-08T15:17:46.535-08:00good things happen in 3's<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">I am going to start with a disclaimer, good things and bad things happen in threes. One of my threes is an amazing sinus infection that left me in bed for 3 days, fever for 7 and still stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey. The service that was rendered this week to me and my family, as hard as it was to receive, left me awestruck! I had hand sanitizer, vitamins, bread, meals, kids babysat, etc. I have been richly blessed and am praying to get better so I can start making my service deposits. While I wait I will reveal in the love that surrounds me through service and friendship.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">This story took place not far away, not too many years ago:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">As I sat down for sacrament meeting in an old building on the outskirts of town I looked around. Hmmmmm. It looked small and quant. Um, pretty sure most the congregation graduated the same year as my great grand parents. We felt like neon signs were flashing on our row, with children climbing under and over our pew. We juggled 1, 3 and a 5 year old and a pregnant belly, the best we could. Where had my husband moved me too!? How was I going to meet anyone? And I failed to mention we lived in Idaho Falls, Hell's winter cousin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">I can't express to you the depths of despair I fell into when we moved. I had moved states away to California and flourished there. Being four hours away from home, in the "armpit of Idaho", I felt millions miles away in my mind. My kindergartener and I would fight every day after school. My one year old pushed my limits daily. One day I found him butt naked on his bike pedaling to my neighbors for a popsicle. My husband would hold me when I cried myself to sleep at night for weeks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">Once I had Miss L I started a little ritual of walking in the mornings, just a mile before Craig had to be off to work. He worked long hard days. He'd leave early and arrive late at night. I felt like a single mom a lot that year. As I would make my way through the subdivision and take in all the beauty of aluminum siding and left over snow, I'd pray. I had many good chats, one stands out from all the rest. I remember praying that God would give me opportunities to make friends and serve. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">It wasn't long that I got the first impression to phone a neighbor who was recently pregnant and super ill. I asked if I could bring in dinner. What!? I should have checked my fridge, because I was clean out of everything. Luckily, I had frozen rhodes rolls. I put them out and brain stormed how I would load 4 babies, 5 and under and make it thru Winco without dying. Time slipped by, Craig had to work late again. So I loaded my kids up and drove over to Little Cesar's and picked up a $5 pizza. I felt ridiculous as I walked up to the steps with rolls and a hot pizza, while my crazy kids screamed in the car. When she came to the door she began to well up with tears. "How did you know? I just got off the phone with my mom and she said, "Honey what does sound good?" and the only thing that came to mind was rolls. How could you have known?" I stood there and wanted to scratch my head and think how did I know? But I didn't, only the Lord knew. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">Later that week I felt the need to bring cookies to a sister I had met once at church. I didn't know anything about her, but felt the desire to get to know her more. I went to make my families favorite chocolate chip cookies, nothing too fancy, but a crowds favorite. I went to grab the bag of chocolate chips only to find they had been eaten through, almost to the bottom. So I thought of trying snicker doodles; couldn't find any cream of tarter. By now your thinking, seriously go grocery shopping woman! But things were tight around our house and we were trying to make everything spread as far as it could go. So I ended up making no bake peanut butter chocolate cookies. I didn't even have a paper plate or ribbon or a cute little card; it was a good little home makers nightmare! I dropped them off on her doorstep, because no one answered the door. The following Sunday or should I say, Roller Derby, I ran into her. "Thank you so much for those yummy cookies. I haven't made those in years. They've always been my favorite." I noticed a theme. Do you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">Finally the last day of the week I decided to try making home made bread. I was feeling a little domestic, so I pulled out my kitchen aid. Now, I'd seen my mom do it a million times, she even invited me over to teach me. But here I was a couple hundred miles away attempting to venture down a road I'd only dreamed about. It took me all day, I ground the wheat, fed a baby, let the yeast rise, changed a diaper, mixed the ingredients, let it sit, picked up a kindergartener, put in oven to rise, all lopsided and funny. Presto! 50 min later a rather large loaf, if I dare call it that, was done. I quickly buttered the top and wrapped it with a paper towel and wheeled down the street in my stroller, to a lady who had just come home from surgery. I knocked, no response. I gave the knob a jiggle, it was unlocked. Dare I go in? Of course! I walked in, put the loaf on the counter, wrote a little note and dashed back out the door. A couple weeks passed when I bumped into her. She said, "Was that you who made the home made bread?" I sheepishly replied, "Yes." She went on, "It was soooo good. I had gotten home from the hospital that morning and was too drugged up to get the door. When I finally woke up I saw the loaf of bread. I devoured it. I think I ate the whole loaf in one sitting. You need to teach me sometime how you make it." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">By this time I knew that it was all in the Lord's hands. He knew what these dear sisters needed. Were all three of this ladies good liars, just trying to make me feel good? Possibly, but I felt divinely guided. I lifted and inspired and in turn was blessed to see the Lord's hand. I made three good friends that week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">Below is a story <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/10/we-never-walk-alone?lang=eng">President Monson</a> told that is better expressed and close to my own I wanted to share:</span><br />
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Tiffany’s difficulties began last year when she had guests at her home for Thanksgiving and then again for Christmas. Her husband had been in medical school and was now in the second year of his medical residency. Because of the long work hours required of him, he was not able to help her as much as they both would have liked, and so most of that which needed to be accomplished during this holiday season, in addition to the care of their four young children, fell to Tiffany. She was becoming overwhelmed, and then she learned that one who was dear to her had been diagnosed with cancer. The stress and worry began to take a heavy toll on her, and she slipped into a period of discouragement and depression. She sought medical help, and yet nothing changed. Her appetite disappeared, and she began to lose weight, which her tiny frame could ill afford. She sought peace through the scriptures and prayed for deliverance from the gloom which was overtaking her. When neither peace nor help seemed to come, she began to feel abandoned by God. Her family and friends prayed for her and tried desperately to help. They delivered her favorite foods in an attempt to keep her physically healthy, but she could take only a few bites and then would be unable to finish.</div>
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On one particularly trying day, a friend attempted in vain to entice her with foods she had always loved. When nothing worked, the friend said, “There must be <i style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">something</i> that sounds good to you.”</div>
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Tiffany thought for a moment and said, “The only thing I can think of that sounds good is homemade bread.”</div>
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But there was none on hand.</div>
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The following afternoon Tiffany’s doorbell rang. Her husband happened to be home and answered it. When he returned, he was carrying a loaf of homemade bread. Tiffany was astonished when he told her it had come from a woman named Sherrie, whom they barely knew. She was a friend of Tiffany’s sister Nicole, who lived in Denver, Colorado. Sherrie had been introduced to Tiffany and her husband briefly several months earlier when Nicole and her family were staying with Tiffany for Thanksgiving. Sherrie, who lived in Omaha, had come to Tiffany’s home to visit with Nicole.</div>
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Now, months later, with the delicious bread in hand, Tiffany called her sister Nicole to thank her for sending Sherrie on an errand of mercy. Instead, she learned Nicole had not instigated the visit and had no knowledge of it.</div>
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The rest of the story unfolded as Nicole checked with her friend Sherrie to find out what had prompted her to deliver that loaf of bread. What she learned was an inspiration to her, to Tiffany, to Sherrie—and it is an inspiration to me.</div>
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On that particular morning of the bread delivery, Sherrie had been prompted to make two loaves of bread instead of the one she had planned to make. She said she felt impressed to take the second loaf with her in her car that day, although she didn’t know why. After lunch at a friend’s home, her one-year-old daughter began to cry and needed to be taken home for a nap. Sherrie hesitated when the unmistakable feeling came to her that she needed to deliver that extra loaf of bread to Nicole’s sister Tiffany, who lived 30 minutes away on the other side of town and whom she barely knew. She tried to rationalize away the thought, wanting to get her very tired daughter home and feeling sheepish about delivering a loaf of bread to people who were almost strangers. However, the impression to go to Tiffany’s home was strong, so she heeded the prompting.</div>
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When she arrived, Tiffany’s husband answered the door. Sherrie reminded him that she was Nicole’s friend whom he’d met briefly at Thanksgiving, handed him the loaf of bread, and left.</div>
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And so it happened that the Lord sent a virtual stranger across town to deliver not just the desired homemade bread but also a clear message of love to Tiffany. What happened to her cannot be explained in any other way. She had an urgent need to feel that she wasn’t alone—that God was aware of her and had not abandoned her. That bread—the very thing she wanted—was delivered to her by someone she barely knew, someone who had no knowledge of her need but who listened to the prompting of the Spirit and followed that prompting. It became an obvious sign to Tiffany that her Heavenly Father was aware of her needs and loved her enough to send help. He had responded to her cries for relief.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 21px;">We too can go out of our way to serve in the tiniest of ways.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 21px;">I probably could have made a grande meal with all the trimmings and it wouldn't have made any difference when all she needed was a roll. I could have made the best chocolate chip cookies and all she needed was a taste if home. We may plan out ways to reach out that take time, effort and energy. But many times people just want the time, a listening ear or someone who cares.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-49750592071437135372014-09-22T10:38:00.001-07:002014-09-22T10:38:20.690-07:00Poppy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYvzSQqJ1mBllgAGJPGs3MZdfm3W4G-Mb5l9y8yWJJOcyeQXs2xu7qeD4RRXezT9Yn22pQQ7fO6wrstP5NoEpgbEypbsTdpsp1G9nwJH2Z6qancWKjI8OohESbSHPmZcUe_S0uoMT0Aw/s1600/Dad_hunting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYvzSQqJ1mBllgAGJPGs3MZdfm3W4G-Mb5l9y8yWJJOcyeQXs2xu7qeD4RRXezT9Yn22pQQ7fO6wrstP5NoEpgbEypbsTdpsp1G9nwJH2Z6qancWKjI8OohESbSHPmZcUe_S0uoMT0Aw/s1600/Dad_hunting.jpg" height="282" width="400" /></a></div>
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This post is for the man that raised my mother, who later became a drunk, moved to the mountains, loved me, but never took the time to show it. My grandpa, Poppy passed away a little over two weeks ago. My hear and mind have been aching over the memories of my youth and the regrets of the more current years. I have felt hurt for his lack of attention and affection. I hurt that he missed my wedding, graduation, each of my kids births and baptisms. I miss the opportunities we could of had hunting, shooting, talking and shared holidays. He made a lot of bad choices in his life. He chose to drink, he chose the mountains and by making those choices he missed out on a lot. <br />
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But, I too made choices. I could have taken my family up to visit, he only lived an hour away. I could have called more or remembered his birthday with a card or visit. I could have been there when he died. I too made bad choices and I am sorry. I feel like the worst granddaughter. How could I ever hold bitterness and resentment so long that I missed out on a decade of memories? This relationship, I have failed. I am sorry, so sorry. <br />
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The day before he passed I went to visit him. I went out of duty, out of respect and deep down, out of love. When I walked in, he looked already gone. My anger and bitterness was immediately swept away. All I could do is hold his hand and tell him how much I loved him. I watched him wince in pain and struggle to breath. I knew this was the end, the last time we'd ever be together on this earth. However, I looked to the future. I knew that he would give up his mortal tabernacle to go home to his Father; I prayed that he would go quickly and as comfortably as possible. <br />
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I will miss his scratchy beard he'd let me play with, his flannel shirts I'd snuggle into when he pulled me into his lap. I will miss his jokes. I will miss his teasing and the love in his eyes. I will miss hearing him say how proud he was of me. <br />
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When my mom was a little girl running to the bus stop, Poppy would come running out yelling, "Wait! Don't leave me! You forgot your kiss!" Well, that's how I feel, "Wait, I want one more kiss. One more decade of memories." But I won't get it here on this earth. The time will come though, that I too will return to my Father, where my Poppy will be and I will run into his arms and make an eternity of memories with him. <br />
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I wanted to add some funniness to this sad post. Poppy was known for many funny one liners that I'd like to share:<br />
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Oh, crap on a crutch!<br />
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That kid is one fart in a skillet!<br />
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If the horse don't buck, there ain't no rodeo!<br />
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100 years from now it won't make a difference.<br />
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It'll feel better when it quits hurting. <br />
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As the funeral grew closer, family flew in and time was shared together. We laughed and cried and laughed some more. We spent many late nights talking, then I would wake up early to take care of my kids. I was starting to feel spread thin, between being a mother, wife and daughter. I have five busy kids, one husband who was sick and a needy extended family. I also had many emotions that needed time to heal. I was on the phone with a loved one and snapped. I thought out loud as I chucked my phone across the lawn! "Why can't you see what I DO do!!?" Hearing those words come out of my mouth was like lightening bolt. I had a ginormous epiphany. Did I look at what my grandpa gave me or what he didn't give me? Did I even see what he did do? He gave me a pretty darn good Mom, love and affection and praise, his funny sense of humor, Christmas sleigh rides, Halloween Trick or Treating, snowmobiling excursions, memories with cousin in the mountains, cow pie fun, teaching me how to spell, C-U-P (see you pee)! Why was I so focused on how I was wronged? This wasn't his problem but mine. I am owning this. <br />
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So many times we like to point the finger and put the blame on failed marriages, rotten childhoods, gossiping friends, rude neighbors, a fellow driver on the road. We too play a part on the relationship or the lack there of. Instead of asking yourself, "Why don't my parents ever call me?" ask "When was the last time I called to check in on my parents?" Look for the good in people, focus on what they can give. I hope people will do that for me. I fail in so many areas, but I do alright in some parts of life. I hope others will see the good in me.<br />
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The challenge for this week is to give people the benefit of a doubt and see the good others do, instead of pointing out everything they do wrong. Choose to not take offense by others actions. You never know what others are going through. Think "What Would Jesus Do?" My great Mamee Rose would say, "Jesus loves you and so do I." If you really do love them, show it. I will wager that you will not only have more love for others, by the end of the week, but you will be happy. <br />
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With love,<br />
Auna LeighAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-43768374615804607462014-08-28T12:50:00.001-07:002014-08-28T12:52:42.534-07:00listen..<br />
When I first got the "call" to start this blog on service and friendship I had an experience that I felt needed to be shared. <br />
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I was leaving the gym early one morning in a rush to get home to send my kids of to school when I saw someones car lights on. I got in my car quickly and started my engine, reminding myself that it would be ok if I didn't run back in the gym and find the driver of the vehicle. I came up with every excuse out there. Right as I turned to leave, I slammed on the breaks when I felt the words in my heart, "Auna, if I can't trust you with this, then what can I trust you with?" Simple, but a punch in the gut and with a sharp left turn and up straight through to my heart. I put it in park, ran in and asked the first person at the desk if she had a minivan with its lights on and of course it was. This experience reminded me in a simple way that I need to follow the promptings of the spirit no matter how small or inconsequential we may think it is. We never know. </div>
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I was headed home from Costco during the summer when I saw a 15 passenger bus that was pulled over on the side of the road with flashing lights. I again reasoned with myself that they were fine. We live in the cell phone age, where paramedics could be there in 5 min. flat. Yet, I couldn't shake that nagging feeling, so I wheeled the car around and pulled up behind them. I met two bell choir directors and ten of their crew. One boy had gotten ill. They had been traveling for a day and still had one more day til they arrived at their competition. I grabbed my first box of Creamies I have ever purchased at Costco and handed out popsicles. It was divine intervention, because I was going to buy ice cream that day. A Popsicle miracle! ;-)<br />
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When I was due, I mean overly due, with my last baby, I was sitting at home with my 3 youngest kidos. They were watching cartoons and I was practicing my relaxation/mediation for delivery she, POP, I mean literally I heard and felt a pop and all of a sudden I felt like I had peed my pants. I went to change and realized my water had broke. Immediately my phone starting ringing, it was my dear friend and visiting teacher ( women who look after women), Mindy, calling to check on me. She asked how I was, I said, "Great!" She asked then, "What can I do?" I said, "Well I am pretty sure my water just broke and I am alone with my kids. Can you come over?" She sped over in ten minutes and pulled in just as my husband arrived. I thanked her repeatedly for following the inspiration and she said it was nothing, but it was. I think too many times we get a thought to help someone and push it aside as nothing of importance but it may be. This reminds me of a story told by <a href="http://mormon.org/">President Thomas S. Monson</a>:<br />
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My brothers and sisters, the Lord’s purposes are often accomplished as we pay heed to the guidance of the Spirit. I believe that the more we act upon the inspiration and impressions which come to us, the more the Lord will entrust to us His errands.</div>
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<span class="story" style="border: 0px; line-height: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I have learned, as I have mentioned in previous messages, never to postpone a prompting. On one occasion many years ago, I was swimming laps at the old Deseret Gym in Salt Lake City when I felt the inspiration to go to the University Hospital to visit a good friend of mine who had lost the use of his lower limbs because of a malignancy and the surgery which followed. I immediately left the pool, dressed, and was soon on my way to see this good man.</span></div>
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When I arrived at his room, I found that it was empty. Upon inquiry I learned I would probably find him in the swimming pool area of the hospital, an area which was used for physical therapy. Such turned out to be the case. He had guided himself there in his wheelchair and was the only occupant of the room. He was on the far side of the pool, near the deep end. I called to him, and he maneuvered his wheelchair over to greet me. We had an enjoyable visit, and I accompanied him back to his hospital room, where I gave him a blessing.</div>
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I learned later from my friend that he had been utterly despondent that day and had been contemplating taking his own life. He had prayed for relief but began to feel that his prayers had gone unanswered. He went to the pool with the thought that this would be a way to end his misery—by guiding his wheelchair into the deep end of the pool. I had arrived at a critical moment, in response to what I know was inspiration from on high.</div>
</span><span style="background-color: transparent;">My friend was able to live many more years—years filled with happiness and gratitude. How pleased I am to have been an instrument in the Lord’s hands on that critical day at the swimming pool.</span></div>
We all have been given the gift of agency, the freedom to choose. Living in America, we are given more freedoms than most of the world. Everyone on earth has been given the Light of Christ that shines within us. The Light of Christ has been said to be our conscience. We all inherently know right from wrong and we have agency to choose to do the right thing…but do we? How many times have we chosen to go against our moral code? I know for myself, too many times to consider. I am far from perfect; I struggle with anger management; I find it difficult to love myself; I please others before God; I have yet to return silver wear from a church function. Okay, the last one is true but I am sounding like a Narcissist here, so I will try to ver back on track. <br />
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Throughout our lives we will have thousands of opportunities to listen to the promptings God sends our way through the Holy Ghost. We have the gift to use our agency for good; to better the lives around us and within us. Pray to recognize the spirit and immediately follow the council.<br />
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Be kind. Listen to the Light within and follow His mission. For when we are following the Lord's mission, we will find it is our mission. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-47188664926293313712014-08-18T09:21:00.005-07:002014-08-18T09:21:57.549-07:00chicken noodle soupA few years back my older sister went through some serious finical troubles. The economy went down real fast. Building jobs shut down almost over night. My amazing brother-in-law was in over his head, with too many specs not moving. They tried everything from selling big ticket items to working for pennies. Before they knew it they had to foreclose on their gorgeous home that sat on two acres. It was a rough year on their family. Many tender mercies and growing experiences, but there is one I choose to share.<br />
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With little time to find another home in the middle of the school year a kind neighbor offered them an old farm house they could rent for free, if they helped clean up the place. It was old, mice infested, but it had character and gosh darn it, my sister LOVED it! When I heard about the mice, I called her in a panic, but she played it off and said, "I took care of it. I yelled, "Ty, grab your bb gun." and I layed on top of my bed, waiting for him to show. Then "POP!" I shot him! One hit to the head!" I giggled then and still think it's hilarious. Jennifer always knows how to make lemonade with lemons. <br />
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During this trial Jennifer had a dear friend pass away. Jennifer would spend hours a day there, multiple times a week and sometimes a couple of times a day. She would wash dishes, do laundry, change her sheets, massage her feet and one night she even brought in a bottle of wine, which is against our religious <a href="http://www.mormon.org/">beliefs</a>, and said with a giggle, "Are you sure there's not one more thing you wanna try?" Jennifer brought in meals, helped her dress and would spend hours simply talking. A few weeks before her passing she told Jennifer, "When I get to heaven I am going to send you another little girl, a fiery one, to keep you on your toes!" Jennifer who had no plans on having anymore kids said, "Leigh don't you dare!" <br />
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Well, within 3 months and without even ovulating Jennifer was pregnant. She spent most of the time hung over her toilet puking all her innards out. She was put on an IV at 6 weeks. Still she couldn't keep anything down. One night was extremely bad. My mom called to check in on her, "How ya doing Sis?" My sister replied, "Not good mom, I feel like hell." Inside Mom felt torn, she knew she had to be somewhere early the next day that would require her there all day, that she committed to months before. That night as Mom went to bed she prayed to God, "Heavenly Father, I know you are there and can make anything happen. All Jennifer needs is just a good home cooked meal. Please Lord can you make this happen."<br />
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The next day about mid afternoon on a Saturday there was a knock on my sisters door. There stood the lady who now lived in her million dollar home holding homemade chicken noodle soup with mashed potatoes, my sisters favorite. My sister was gracious and thankful and deeply touched by this woman's kind heart. Soon my moms phone was ringing, "Mom, you'll never believe who was at my door and what she brought!!?" My sister related the story and my mom's heart was full of gratitude as she thanked the Lord for hearing and answering a mother's plea.<br />
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The best part of the story continues when nine months later Portia Leigh was born and true to Leigh's word she was a fiery one! My sister was now living in Mesa, AZ. My mom grabbed a box of Krispy Kreams and drove over to my sisters old gorgeous home and knocked on the door. The kind lady answered and my mom said, "I know you don't know me from the man on the moon, but not too long ago you took a meal over to my daughter who used to live here. I just wanted you to know you were literally an answer to my prayer. I just want to thank you for doing something outside your comfort zone." The lady started crying, "Thank you for coming and telling me the whole story. I have always wondered how my service was viewed. I didn't feel like a meal would be sufficient owning their old home they were forced to leave." <br />
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Prayers are answered through our tiny hands. In the Book of Mormon, in the Book of Mosiah 23:10, "…the Lord did hear my cries, and did answer my prayers, and has made me an instrument in his hands…" The Lord knows us, listens to our every prayer; he weeps when we weep. When trials are burying you, try to pray and listen for his reply. When you feel a thought to help someone out, do it! This is the Lord's lifeline; he is reaching out to you. He blesses us thru others. This life is about looking out for others that need your help. You will never regret serving others.<br />
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Enjoy the last few weeks of summer,<br />
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Auna Leigh<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-18079661958422848022014-08-01T12:57:00.004-07:002014-08-01T12:57:51.163-07:00rekindle...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white;">I am really excited about this post. I have been wanting to talk more about my relationship with my dreamy Mr. C, but I had to wait for the right moment. He is my best friend, soul mate, companion forever and the father of my children. He is incredibly sexy, has the perfect body from head to toe. </span><span style="background-color: white;">My favorite is his eyes and smile. </span><span style="background-color: white;">He is ridiculously smart, funny and talented in just about every area of life. Which drives me nuts with envy sometimes but, makes me adore him even more. I love how giving, kind and dedicated he is. He has a heart of gold, the wisdom of an owl and body of a god. And he's mine, all mine.</span><br />
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I love watching old married people, walking hand in hand, grocery shopping together, kissing, etc. I could watch them all day long. Might freak them out a bit, but I just LOVE the elderly. When Mr. C and I were dating he asked once, "When we're ninety do you think we'll still french kiss?" I replied quickly "Heck ya!"</div>
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This summer we have been traveling a ton and "discussing" a lot as well. We've had our highs of highs and lows of lows in a short six week time period. It's been one roller coaster after another. Without airing dirty laundry I'd like to think we have a typical marriage with struggles like anyone else. As of this moment we are soaring high above the clouds, with feelings of newly weds. I am giddy as a school girl and constantly miss him while he is at work. While the highs feel amazing and feel like they are but a brief moment, how do we even know they are a high without feeling the lows that feel like they drag on forever?</div>
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Marriage is the most important friendship to work on and to enjoy. This last vacation we were in Washington staying along the beach. It was beautiful and breathtaking. On the drive up he hid my books I was planning on reading and asked to just talk all 10 hours. I thought it might be hard to keep conversation for that long, but we did and on top of that, we enjoyed it. This was his way of showing love for me, because conversation is a large LOVE language for me. </div>
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When we arrived we looked over our family reunion agenda and the first in the mornings was yoga. I got excited, because it is my new found love for exercise. I told Mr. C. His response was what I was expecting, "Well you and your sisters will have fun." I could fell the tension building, but before the wall could be built I asked, "Why don't we go together instead. We could walk the beach and then go to yoga." That sealed the deal and I could see a little bounce in his step, however small. All that week, I tried to choose him over everyone else. I wasn't perfect, but I tried. And guess what happened? He started feeling loved and appreciated. Then all of a sudden it hit me, I married my best friend. </div>
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We have spent time mostly around water this summer, which has helped keep us grounded. Spending time enjoying God's creations has kept us rooted. We have unplugged the TV and iPads and instead enjoyed God's entertainment and conversations with one another. From walking the beach, to paddle boarding Lake Powell, to fire works over Lake Payett we have bonding. All it takes is choosing to be with each other. My challenge for myself and anyone out there who's up for it is to choose your spouse. When you get all the kids into bed, instead of getting cozy and curling up to a good book, choose him. When getting ready for lunch with a friend, cancel and surprise him. Wake him up early and take him on a morning walk. Might Want to buy him a donut to save your bacon if he's not a morning person. Just choose him. </div>
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Our marriage hasn't been perfect, for which I am grateful, because of our trials we have grown closer as a unit. I married him because I knew that whatever was in our future we'd face it together. People say you fall in and out of love with your spouse periodically. I have to disagree. I think being selfish overrides the love of others and hides it away. But like every other thing we want badly we have to work for it. You want a great looking body, you gotta hit the gym 6 days a week and diet constantly. You want a million dollar enterprise, you have to work your butt off and take risks. You want a marriage that is amazing you have to constantly be working on it; putting one another first. </div>
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I know this isn't a band aid that heals all marriages. There is a lot of hurt and bitterness and betrayal. Sometimes it is heavily one sided. I know it sucks, but you are not alone. Lean upon the Savior and he will heal your wounds. He has descended below all, to feel our pain. He atoned for everyone, those who have sinned and those sinned upon. Lean on Him and continue to reach out to your spouse. Be patient; from what I hear the grass ain't greener on the other side. </div>
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I love Mr. C for all his strengths and weaknesses. He's not perfect, but he's perfect for me. I want forever with this man. So I am starting by enjoying today with him. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-17267316702412177242014-07-11T13:52:00.002-07:002014-07-11T14:05:07.358-07:00letting goI have a lot of emotions swarming around in my soul lately and the one I clearly can pull on is hurt. I found out recently that my dearest friend that I have raised my kids along side her kids is moving. Again the Lord is trying me, pushing and pulling. I said Uncle last month, but apparently it wasn't loud enough. UNCLE!!!! She has already started <i>letting go</i>, slowly, so it won't hurt so bad when she leaves. I understand, but it still hurts. When she told me she was moving, it sucked the wind right out of my sails. We had plans! Our kids would be in the same co-op. We'd kid swap when we worked in the classroom. We'd run to Costco together and Winco. We were going places. Ha! Ha! I know she's not moving far away and I don't need to be so sensitive about it, but she's been my partner in crime for far too long. From dressing up and serenading neighbors for their birthdays to carpool, we've done a lot together. She has seen me at my worst, accidentally overdosing on pain meds during my pneumonia episode; witnessing my ditzy nature daily and loving me all the same. When she moves her family away she will take a piece of my heart along with her.<br />
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All of us have areas in our lives that we struggle so hard to control. Whether it's the food we digest or don't, appearing perfectly put together or not, controlling our kids and their bad behavior, controlling our spouse into being someone we want them to be, holding on tight to bitterness and resentment because then we have the control or think we do, holding onto expectations. We try to control everything in our lives. We try to control where we will live, the school we will have our kids attend, the sports teams we want them on. It's exhausting thinking about all the control we want. In so many areas of our lives we are desperately trying to hold to the reins as hard as we can. Our muscles are taut, our mind ever worried and yet the fear of simply letting go scares us into digging our feet in harder to resist the pulls all around us, even though it's what we need to do.<br />
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But what if we were to simple <i>let go</i>… you know, just to see what happens. What if there is a far better plan out there that neither you or I could comprehend. What if we were to believe that our Father is of divine origins and that he loved us and knew the best plan for us and all we would simple have to do is slip the reins from our hands and open our arms out wide beckoning on the unknown. <br />
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Carrier Underwood said it best,<br />
Jesus take the wheel<br />
Take it from my hands<br />
Cause I can't do this on my own<br />
I'm <i>letting go</i><br />
So give me one more chance<br />
Save me from this road I'm on<br />
Jesus take the wheel<br />
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Anna my 65 year old stylist and neighbor came by today to add to my wardrobe with some of her old hand-me-downs. As she was leaving she said, "Well I am headed in for my Mammogram today. I have a lump that I found and its hurting. My mom had breast cancer so I need to go get it checked." Immediately I got a sick feeling in my stomach. <i>NO! Not Anna! Lord don't take someone else away from me. Please let it be nothing. </i>I looked at her worriedly and she responded, "It is what it is. No reason to worry quite yet." I stand vigil beside my window praying for a positive results driving up. Although I worry about her, my thoughts return to her stoic and matter of fact way she addressed it. She was so brave, she didn't show worry or fret, she <i>let go</i> of all that and simple said, "It is what it is." <br />
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Sometimes I think we work ourselves up into a needless tizzy. We analyze situations over and over and over and again. We spend time calling searching for homes to find the perfect one. We rehash old baggage to feel validated for the hurt we feel. We need to let go of pain and hurt, resentment, bitterness. All the emotions that drag us down, making us feel as though we are drowning, we need to <i>let go</i> of. It's not easy, never said it was. You will find peace, love, joy and contentment when you <i>let go</i>. When we accept Christ's atonement and let him heal us, we find that his hands are where we want to be. We need to relax a little, focus on our families and dear friends; we need to reach out and help others and be still and know that God is at the wheel.<br />
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Auna Leigh<br />
PS. Check out my friends post today..http://www.itsyourtimetoheal.blogspot.com<br />
Great minds think alike! ;)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-15571223436079370532014-06-24T14:25:00.001-07:002014-06-24T14:25:24.639-07:00uncle...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I swear the Lord has it in for me…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This past month has rocked my boat, to the point that I am waving a white flag. What am I not getting? My heart is being torn in two. My sister and her sweet family, my kids best friends, are moving 14hrs away. I don't know what I am going to do without her. Mr. C's grandmother, who is not replaceable passed away. My great Aunt Peggy passed yesterday. My nephew and niece are headed off to college and on a mission. My best friend in Idaho Falls is moving to another city. Everyones chapters are ending and people are moving on. Yet I am still. For the first time, it's not me being torn away. When we had been married for 8 years we had moved over 10 times!!! I always thought it was harder going through the change, moving on to the unknown, but now I am on the other side of the fence, watching others, in a non stalking kind of way, move on, to mature. And I don't think I like it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only sure thing in life is….change. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I researched the word change and according to the internet dictionary, change is, </span><span id="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">the</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">form,</span> </span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/nature" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">nature</a><span id="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">content,</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">future</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">course, </span></span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">transform</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">convert</span><span id="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">, </span></span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/exchange" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">exchange</a><span id="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">for</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">something</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">else,</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">usually</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">the</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">same</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">kind, </span></span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">give</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">take</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">reciprocally, </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">to</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">become</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">different, </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">to</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">become</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">altered</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">or</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">modified and </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">to</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">pass</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">gradually</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">into. I like the idea of becoming different or to pass gradually into. It makes the idea of change much more excepting and exciting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">During Mr. C's grandma's viewing I had a wave of sadness and awareness wash over me. I grabbed onto my darling nephew Scott and held him for a long time and bawled like a baby. I started rambling, "Scott, everyone is moving on. Everyone is changing. Grandma's gone, Kate's on her mission and you are headed off to college. It's not fair. You're going to go off get married and have a billion babies. You'll never have time for us anymore." He whispered in my ear, "No I will come back and I'll have a little Auna Saylin running around with me." This kid is quick, sweet and full of love. He's got the cutest dimples, dimples that he'll flash at any girl and every young lass will swoon. Even thinking about it makes my heart ache. We put so much love and time into our relationships, but adventually people have to move on.</span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Change is not simple, nor easy. However, when the Lord is on your side the transition is more smooth, you have peace and can feel help from the other side. The Lord is always twisting and pulling and helping us grow. Remember that when you have a green light from the Lord to move forward, don't look back. Just take that wild and crazy step in the unknown abyss. And when you start to hesitate at that green light remember to, "</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">Doubt your doubt before you doubt your faith." - Dieter F. Uchdorft </span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-style: normal;">
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My sweet niece Mylee, my sister's kid that just moved, age 8, ran a 5k with me. I am NOT a runner, repeat, I AM NOT A RUNNER. Ask a few of my friends who saw me summersault over a median at 6am a few years back. They will testify to my not so awesome running skills. So I chose to be Mylee's buddy, aka my buddy. As we were running we sang songs. No I sang songs. Mainly, to get her to smile. We spent time focusing on trees, other runners, and talking about 3rd grader stuff. When we reached about half way her legs started itching bad and she wanted to walk for a while. I turned to her and gave her my mantra (Who knows where I came up with this! But it seems to help!) that I share with my running friends, "Mylee we started strong, we are staying strong and we will finish strong! Now let's keep moving!" She smiled, liking the idea and picked up her pace. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just yesterday I called my sister and Mylee answered. I asked her "Where are you? Are you guys getting along? Are you being good for your mom?" She replied, "Ya, were just watching Shrek." I said, "Hey My can you do me a favor? Next week when your Momma's having a rough day unpacking the boxes, will you grab both her shoulders and look into her eyes and tell her, "Mom we started strong, we are staying strong and darn it, we are going to finish strong! And then give her the biggest hug and tell her I love her." I could tell in her voice she was smiling remember our run one morning not too long ago. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We gotta dig deep when change is all around us. Dig deep into our roots, our foundation, what makes us who we are. I've been on both ends, changing and just being still and you have to know who you are . Who are you? We need to know when times are rocky. Solidify your faith for when the waves of life come crashing in. Anchor your soul to the Lord.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What can we do for friends that are experiencing change?</i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;">1) Have patience. Everyone has something they struggle with. Some are just better at hiding it. Be patient with your friends when they may have a short fuse. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2) Lend a hand. Be willing to pack a box, bring over a lunch, send them a text. Let them know you care. </i></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;">3) Give un decided attention and listen. Most of the time people wanna feel validated and heard.</span></i></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;">4) Give advice when asked (or give unsolicited advice, like me, </span></i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>which always go practically perfect every time! ;) ;)) </i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While attending my great aunt Peggy's funeral They showed a video of her life and the last scene they shared this quote she would tell us all the time, "</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">God is in his heaven and every things going to be ok." I love this simple yet profound message! Be still my soul. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">Much summer love-</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">Auna Leigh</span></div>
</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-61853860962572784502014-06-03T09:05:00.000-07:002014-06-03T09:05:07.421-07:00the next best place to home...<div class="MsoNormal">
Service has always been a big part of my life. When I was
young I remember countless snowy mornings my dad would be gone from the
house, out with the tractor shoveling driveways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He still does it to this day, but usually he brings along a few
grandkids with snow shovels. When I was a teenager and would drag my feet to a
youth activity, without fail my mom would say, “Auna Leigh you can make
shoveling manure fun!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would then
share the story of when she had the opportunity to take some youth to help someone
in the congregation on their farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
youth were skeptical of working in the barn among animals and their droppings, but
before long everyone was having a good time, even singing along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was THE activity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was about to turn ten years old, my Dad asked all of
us girls who would like to come with him on a trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mind you, we were all in school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents were never afraid to take us out
of school to be with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was quick
to jump at the chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember
how I was chosen; I had four other sisters that could sweeten up my Dad real
good and a brother who was the apple of his eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this was my trip to be with my
Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">We were off, headed south, to open a new door to my life. Besides a stint with my stinky loafers and a prank my Dad pulled at a department store that embarrassed the crud out of me, we made it. </span> About three years previously my Dad had started
a new company. It was an elderly care
facility that was more like a home that assisted elderly that can’t live on their
own. My great grandmother was put in a
huge facility that did not take care of her.
It tore my Dad up and he knew there would have to be another way. Thus Beehive Homes was established. It was a big part of my family’s life. We had just opened one up in Lehi, UT and my
Dad had to be there for the ribbon cutting ceremony. As I walked into that home twenty-one years
ago, I was enveloped into a spiritual paradise. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I spent every waking minute and sleeping, for
that matter, in the home. For five days
I sat at the feet of giants as they told me their life stories. I was able to cook for them, talk with them,
play with them, and read with them. I
fell in love with them. I met men who
were accountants and famers, women who were full time moms and others who were
receptionists. I even met a man who was
a cross dresser, now that was interesting.
There was one lady in particular whom I’ll call Mable. She knitted coverings for hangers and Mable
knitted her way into my heart. We spent
many hours together, her teaching me to knit and telling me about her kids and
me soaking it all in. I felt important
and happy. These people needed me, and I
needed them. I realized that week that I was happy; I drank freely of God's love as I served. I never wanted to leave. I wanted to stay in the sanctuary of the elderly's love.<br />
<br />
Recently I went to a beautiful rendition of Les Mis, my husband and I were brought to tears when Jean Valjean sang "To love another person is to see the face of God." After the play we skipped dinner and headed straight to see Craig's Dad. He was ill and in a home recovering. We sat by him and cried. Held his hands and talked with him. We didn't want to leave. We felt close to God. <br />
<br />
While in that home years ago I felt like I could see how God loves others; I felt I was among earthly angels. Saying goodbye was not
easy, even after Dad extended his trip for me. Shortly after our trip Dad received a call, my
friend Mable had passed away. I was
devastated. I already missed her terribly. I sat in my room holding my
knitted hangers and cried. And this is
when my love affair with service was born.<br />
<br />
The thing is love is an amazing gift, when given, it only expands. It's the law of positive attraction. If we hold on to love and don't share our love with hard work it fizzles and dies out. The relationships that tear at our heart strings, to where they feel like a frayed violin bow, are the ones worth fighting for. Life is exhausting, but when we kneel down and wash a loved one's feet or pull them into our lap to play with their hair, we are refreshed, we are renewed. We need to put aside our own needs, our own troubles and enjoy the blessings that come from it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I am grateful for a mother who encouraged a sunny disposition
when asked to do something I’d rather not and a father who taught me to serve,
who gave me opportunities to serve and introduced me to a woman who showed a
little ten year old how to love others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am beyond grateful for my Father who watches over me, who knows me, who
teaches me, who strengthens me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
through this Father I am led to others who are in need of His love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sent his Son who gave us the perfect
example of love and service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to Him
I dedicate my life and this here blog. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-64527393842735762232014-05-16T13:15:00.001-07:002014-05-16T13:15:19.166-07:00 loveHave you ever taken a moment and thought about the love that exists in the world today? We hear enough stories laced with hate, malice, vengeance, violence. I am a person who can't stand to watch the news. It makes my heart ache when I hear of tragedies and accidents. It tears at my soul and makes me feel overwhelmed! <br />
<br />
This last week I watched two old men meet each other at a restaurant. One arrived early and waited just outside the door, the other later saved a table for the two of them. This scene warmed my heart and I so wanted to snap a shot. They sat wrapped into each others stories and obviously happy to be together. Then yesterday I watched an older couple sitting just outside a dressing room discussing outfits. I giggled as the man asked "Well, do I get to pick?" To which she replied, "If it's for Mother's Day, then yes." You could see the love and companionship between the two. <br />
<br />
Love is something that comes easy to some. To others, it's an up hill battle. Love doesn't have to be over zealous or perfect. When I was a little girl after my mom tucked me into bed I'd yell down the hall, "I love you Mom!" She'd holler back, "Love you more!" I'd yell louder, "Love you MOST!" The love war had begun. I am sure my mom was tired and just wanted to retire for the evening but she would play up until we'd finally give in. To this day she signs everything, LYM. (Love You Most)<br />
<br />
Love doesn't have to show it's self through gifts, flowers or compliments. Love is something that fills your heart, that compels you into action. Love makes your heart fill with empathy when someone is ill. Love causes you to come to your knees begging forgiveness. It compels you to right your wrongs, to be humble.<br />
<br />
To truly love, you must first love yourself. Feeling love from on High starts with listening to the loving kind words in your heart. We have to be kind to ourselves. Whenever I am negative about myself out loud my friend says, "Be nice to my friend." We need to avoid the constant negative stream of thoughts that sometimes flood our minds. They are both competing, vying for your attention. Who will you give the floor too? Who will you hand over the mic to?<br />
<br />
Not long ago I found myself front and center on stage with the mic booming words of hate. I started believing the thoughts, started shrinking unable to hold the weight of self-pity. In time, I started having unpleasent thoughts of others. One dear friend was targeted. I sewed seeds of jealousy and frustration. I loved this friend and wanted what was best for her, but her best was <i>my dream</i>, and she didn't even want it. Somedays I wanted to smack her for not realizing her wealth of opportunity. Well as the days went on, the burden just got heavier and heavier. I tried to be positive, I tried to give her gifts, I tried to go above and beyond what a friend should do. But that ickiness of envy was still seeping from my pores. <br />
<br />
Then one day I had had it. I was done feeling this way. I realized that I had been committing a horrible sin day in and day out and it was slowing eating me alive. So I simply picked up the phone. I say simply because truly the act of picking up a phone is simple but what lie ahead scared the dickens out of me. I shook as I pressed her number, the phone rang two quick rings. She answered and I was already in tears. She sensed the tension and patiently listened to my confession. "I am sorry for having these feelings and I am asking your forgiveness. I don't want anything to come between us. I really admire you and look to you as someone I want to be." I drew in a ragged breath. She quickly dried my tears and calmed my soul, "Of course I forgive you. I can say the same to you. I too have had those feelings in the past. Something we all have to go through, I guess."<br />
<br />
Love is shown to us, when the sun rises, when a rainbow breaks over the sky, a burst of light through the clouds, through a hug from a friend. Love manifest itself everywhere. One day was a long horrible day. I was fighting tears all day. When I went to drop something off at the school, the dam broke. It flooded over the front desk secretary. Poor thing, didn't know what to think. She got up and gave me a big hug and said something sweet and consoling. The words were wonderful and heart felt, but I felt her love through the simple hug. I have a close friend Brittney who gives the best hugs. She can envelop you and console you without words. Many call just to request a simple, love drenched hug.<br />
<br />
Love forgives. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love hugs. So remember to give true, Christ filled love.<br />
<div>
Love originated in the heavens, long ago. In 1 John 4:19 it reads, "We love him, because he first loved us." We are children of our heavenly Father. He LOVES us. He sent us here to earth to help us reach our full potential. He watches over us tenderly as a loving Father. He is always willing to listen. His love is perfect. <br />
<br />
*****Try this for the next week. Ask the Lord to see others the way he sees them and to love them as he loves them. Enjoy your weekend.<br />
<br />
Love, Auna Leigh</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-71603308422597738162014-05-07T13:19:00.003-07:002014-05-07T13:19:23.956-07:00guilty...<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">A few nights ago I went to a large book club
for, <i>One Hundred Dresses, by Eleanor Estes. (</i>****If you haven't
read this book I suggest you go out and buy it. It's about a little poor
Polish girl, Wanda who gets teased. Her Father moved the family to the city
because of the discrimination. The girls responsible for the teasing felt
awful and sent her letters. Wanda responded with such grace and
forgiveness. A beautiful story for all ages!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The women's organization (Relief Society) for our
church hosted the book club for Mothers and Daughters. We were captured
immediately when we walked into the overflow room, also known as the gymnasium.
It was a picturesque setting for a picnic. One forgot what room
they entered after just a few moments. There was a constant hum of
chatter. Salad, homemade rolls, soda pop and an ever-increasing dessert
table filled our tummies. We then made our way to another room where two
teenage girls and two mothers spoke. One mother asked, "In one word
what is this story about?" Old and young raised their hands and
replied, "Forgiveness, friendship, not judging, kindness, hurt,
gossiping, etc." Honestly, I wanted to raise my hand, I wanted my
voice to be heard, but I didn't. I didn't want people to think I was a
"mean girl". The outside world may not have known my thoughts
but I did, and more importantly God knew. "GUILTY!" I felt
guilty for every wrong I committed, for the stories I had ever repeated (no
matter how nice I'd made them sound). I would never intentionally leave
someone out or purposely send them a hateful text. Yet, I was guilty.
I have judged, been unkind, gossiped and hurt too many. No matter
how I have tried to right those wrongs and repent, people don't forget.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">A friend stands by us not judging, full of love,
understanding, in possession of a listening ear, ever forgiving, and always
kind. The thoughts below are from a friend of <a href="http://www.themomentswestand.com/"><span style="color: #0000ef;">Ashlee's </span></a> who
was the kind of friend we can all learn from. Emily stood by her side and
was a voice of reason, stability and strength. She always had Ashlee's
back and never judged. Learn from the master...</span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt;">“I
met Ashlee long before Ashlee and Emmett were strugging. I knew them right
after they were married and I married. I knew them in the very happy times of
their married lives. They were so fun to hang out with. We became friends
easily and quickly. After their college life ended and they moved to Meridian
it was like having family close and we enjoyed many outings, weekends and
holidays together. Ashlee is a wonderful and smart mother. She taught me so
much in my early mothering years. I considered Ashlee a dear friend and we were
both able to confide in each other on many situations. I remember when she
first confided in me about her and Emmett toward the end. One day I randomly
picked up the phone and called her to see if she wanted to go to Goodwill with me.
I ended up coming over to her house during joyschool to help her out. It was
then that she let it all out. I immediately wanted to go spy and find Emmett
and call him out on his actions and I wanted to help lighten her burden any way
I could. I feel Ashlee needed me for an un-judging ear to listen and a
mama-bear by her side. I’m not quite sure what I really did for Ashlee. I think
it helped that I wasn't in the “Meridian loop” and lived fifteen minutes away
and was an old friend she could talk to in confidence, knowing it wouldn't be
all over Meridian. It was hard not to want to get involved too much because we
loved them both. After the accident there were so many wonderful , giving, and
selfless people that came to her side. I know I did not have the talent as some
others surrounding her, such as a blankets, or pictures, or organizing her
house. I believe I was there for Ashlee to be her sounding board, to bounce
things off of, to talk sense into her, to take her stress away and to bring her
back to reality. The morning after the accident happened and she was at her
house with all the chaos she was beside herself. Her sister and I grabbed her,
snuck away and went for a drive. I do think that I was that ear that she could
tell me all her thoughts regardless if they were rational or not and she knew I
had her back. I know I did turn mama-bear with her because I knew with all the
attention and the state of her mind I didn't want her to get taken advantage of
or misled so in a way I felt like her body guard. Probably the most random
thing I remember about being there for Ashlee was day of the viewing, I bought
her dry shampoo and earrings because I was worried about her wasn't sure if she
would get around to showering with all the interviews and police and stress and
I wanted to make sure she would look good and put together. I always laugh with
her because when everyone else was giving presents and gifts and talents..... I
bought her dry shampoo. I am so grateful for having the opportunity to help her
through this trial in her life. Ashlee has taught me more than I could ever
repay her and she continues to help me and reach out to me even in her darkest
days. I know without a doubt that she would be there for me and do the same.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2f353c; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Emily was specifically placed in <a href="http://www.themomentswestand.com/"><span style="color: #0000ef;">Ashlee's</span></a>
life way before all the drama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has
talents she can't even recognize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
shows that it's the little things that count.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thank you for teaching us how to be a listening ear and loving without
judging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You inspire and make me want to
be a Mama Bear/Ninja Body Guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are
perfect, just the way you are! </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-68674518709339163022014-04-29T10:32:00.001-07:002014-04-29T10:32:16.341-07:00something simple<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBc4ydTsq4uQ0NzeKireGwB3mZ22HQ9XwcFS2eFwxRPb1kz79i-2m8o9taXy80MD03xMLm5i7V9W5fzB1b2LQ5WFjIuQLi5iwqrFq17nel9Q3tVPL7zyNlxWf6PYC_roLqrVjW0cNFsk/s1600/Today.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBc4ydTsq4uQ0NzeKireGwB3mZ22HQ9XwcFS2eFwxRPb1kz79i-2m8o9taXy80MD03xMLm5i7V9W5fzB1b2LQ5WFjIuQLi5iwqrFq17nel9Q3tVPL7zyNlxWf6PYC_roLqrVjW0cNFsk/s1600/Today.png" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Just felt the need to share this little quote today. A simple smile can change the world. Let it be yours.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-57426149271561310752014-04-22T13:47:00.002-07:002014-04-25T09:58:08.933-07:00down and out<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Kids are screaming, doors are slamming, pollen is
ripping my throat out, and I sit here with a half eaten double lemon
creme pie, left overs from pi day (3.14 p.s. thanks Dad, my butt thanks you
too), undeterred typing my heart out. I've got this nervous itch, had it
since yesterday, kids need help with home work. Man all I wanna do is
scratch…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And I am back. I could sit here and give you
ever alliteration for service, but I am going to save my hands and your mind.
It's plain; it's simple, my name is Auna Leigh, I'm 32 and I am a service
addict. It's a compulsion, a need to please, to lift a burden, to bring
others love and I can't stop. It interrupts my family life, my
marriage, my sleep, even my thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Almost two years ago, I sat in the doctors office
barely breathing, as they read my blood oxygen report. It wasn't
good and I could see it in the doctors eyes…. "You
should be hospitalized. You didn't respond well to the first run of
antibiotics. I am going to have to either admit you to the hospital or
give you a shot in your butt and </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">make</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">you</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> promise that you will not leave your bed for
five days." So I chose bearing my bum and humbly accepting my fate.
My dear husband just shook his head, "Pneumonia, really!? " I knew it was bad and it had been bad for weeks, I was
the one not getting oxygen to the point that my hands and feet were blue.
A couple days later I cracked a rib while coughing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">When I left that appointment I made two phone
calls, one to my Mom and the other to my friend, old enough to be my mom, whom
acted as if she was my mom. Today her name is Martha, just as Martha of
the Bible, sister of Mary. She is my service bound sister. Martha's
the kind of lady no one can say "no" to, either that or she won't
take "no" for an answer. And when Martha serves, it's in style!
So I knew as I made this call I'd see her soon, pounding on my door. What came next was something I will never forget, because
I was on deaths door, I may not have all my facts straight. Regardless this is a story that needs to land in someones ear</span><span style="font-size: 21px;">…</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">..<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: 21px;">The first visit from Martha was with a frozen lasagna, big bag of salad and a loaf of bread. She came through the door in a matter of minutes after I contacted her. However miraculous this may sound the</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> day that stands out the most is the day she
kicked me out of bed! She ordered me to take a bath but before I
got up she gave me one of her plush fuzzy towels and grabbed my dirty old ones.
She then proceeded to take off my weeks old, nasty sheets and then made
my bed with her beautiful yellow egyptian cotton sheets (she knew I loved
yellow). I climbed in the tub, melted into oblivion and closed my eyes.
I soaked and pondered how she was still on earth, for she was a heavenly
angel. I thought of Christ washing His disciples feet the night before He
was crucified. She was a typify of Christ, always abounding in good works.
When I made my way out into the kitchen she made me sit and then watched
me eat </span><i style="font-size: 16pt;">Kneaders </i><span style="font-size: 16pt;">chicken noodle soup, because one of the many ways Linda
(crap did I just type that, I mean Martha) knows how to please is a bag of </span><i style="font-size: 16pt;">Kneaders</i><span style="font-size: 16pt;">
take out. Martha also brought one of her card tables and put it by my
bedside and draped it with one of her fancy table clothes, brought me her
favorite cup that had a straw attached, Kleenex, and a whole box of
magazines, books and chick flicks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Now I was a mother, not just a mom, but a mother of five very busy
little kids. My baby had just turned one and my oldest was nine, with
three others scattered in between. I was the nurse, not the patient.
I went all day long, up before the sun rose to wee hours of the night caring for these babies of mine. But during that time I leaned, I
leaned so hard I almost fell. But by doing so I was lifted, raised to do
better and be better. I was inspired by not only Martha, but many women
who came to my aid, with meals and child care, a phone call, breakfast in bed, draping me in mustard plasters to clear my lungs and coming to help my kids out of the tub when my pain killers knocked me out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Now being a self acclaimed service addict it was hard to watch </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">others get</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> their next hit on my account. To see their smiling faces and the joy that radiated </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">their</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> frames made me feel good, but ever ready to give in return. From my bed I watched my husband serve endlessly, </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">exhausted, trying to keep it all afloat. It nearly crushed me into a million pieces to see my children struggle, wondering if I was going to ever get out of bed. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">As a friend you have to be ready for others to come and help you. When asked if they can bring dinner, say "YES!". Some </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">people</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> are naturally good at this </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">sort</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> of thing. Think of it as a gift of joy you are giving them. Many, including myself, think as a newly independent child "I do it </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">myself</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">!". The thing is, we probably can do it all on our own and most of </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">the time we do, but sometimes it's nice to think about others. We all need a chance to serve, to find joy through service. Don't deny our friends that gift. Don't worry about making it up to everyone who helps you, because God takes care that. </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-83288448575630387562014-04-17T23:49:00.002-07:002014-04-25T09:55:44.820-07:00with love...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Friday's Challenge:</i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Send a love note to someone you care about.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKkNbSRGRnLffxmwqdYgfGnqDl8giEF3rRus5xHAO0tSKGtrtZ0Bas9Kb9QGcGsxZ4Lg_R4bGI7219EU1Xg6Zrd2vhv2IP7lhiQHpRooD93H6loUblA0QOsIZxf2C88vQkZJiRVXrdaI/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKkNbSRGRnLffxmwqdYgfGnqDl8giEF3rRus5xHAO0tSKGtrtZ0Bas9Kb9QGcGsxZ4Lg_R4bGI7219EU1Xg6Zrd2vhv2IP7lhiQHpRooD93H6loUblA0QOsIZxf2C88vQkZJiRVXrdaI/s1600/photo-2.JPG" height="317" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
One of my favorite things to do is to take a trip down memory lane. Sometimes that can be scary but luckily I decided to keep a handful of feel good memories. Doesn't matter the reason, nor the season or handcrafted or a plain white sheet of paper, I <b><i>LOVE</i></b> cards! I keep these special keepsakes close by me, a love note from Mr. C tucked in the case of my phone, a farewell letter from my close friend Katie tucked in the book I'm reading, a folded piece of paper filled with compliments from friends in my nightstand, one was taped on my fridge for over a year. These are a bright lights of hope when the days get dark and cold. It amazes me how a sincere heart felt card can literally make my heart skip a beat. They are mana to my soul. Knowing how this makes me feel, how am I doing in return!? <br />
<br />
Today I received cards for my birthday. I was beyond giddy. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Wait, what!? I mean I feel like <b>me</b> in a candy store! I was so excited to read ever juicy piece of love that oozed off the paper. I loved every single word written on each individual card. Reading each line made my heart sore and drop tears on my cheeks. I am so thankful for friends who take time to tell me that they care. <br />
<br />
I know some people will complain that they aren't letter writers. Okay, have it your way, but I also have a about seven special messages saved on my phone from loved ones. So try it today. Make it a special day for someone. Who know's what they are going through, or what they need to hear. If you pray and listen the Lord will address the card himself. He always comes through.<br />
<br />
During this Easter season I wanted to share my love for God and his son Jesus Christ. I know that God lives. I know that Jesus Christ died for me. I know that he loves me and has given me his word through Holy Scriptures. If we read these words we will find love and peace. I am indebted to Him. Because of Him I strive to be a better friend. Because of Him I can repent and come unto Him for strength. Because of Him I can be made whole when wronged. Because of Him I am enough. Because of Him I can be resurrected and return to live with Him and my family. I LOVE Him.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-91926748483623556362014-04-16T10:10:00.000-07:002014-04-16T10:10:03.270-07:00angel made<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">A few months ago I was on the phone with Ashlee, trying to figure out a way I could help on her blog. I told her I wanted to fast and pray about it. She agreed that she would attend the temple and find her own confirmation. Within 48 hours I had been roped into something I never dreamed I'd ever do. <i>A personal blog about service and friendship.</i> First of all, I am unqualified. I didn't feel like anyone would want to hear anything I had to say. Then later that day I called another friend for counsel. I started to explain the idea Ashlee had put out there and she stopped me, "Wait. I have been meaning to call you all last week. Is she asking you to do a blog about relationships, about being a friend? I wanted to call you to tell you that's what you should do." <i>What the??? E</i>ither I had crazy friends or this was the path I was to follow down. As time went on I started to believe the feelings I had deep inside. The Lord wanted me to stand, where I could, to lift and inspire with what lifted and inspired me. Service. That </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">weekend while my sisters and Mom ate a couple of gourmet pizzas I brought up the idea. My Mom, being the great Mom that she is said, "Of course! You should do this. I love reading what you write." After everyone digested that idea and some pizza the stories started flying. "There was this one time when Juner was sick… I once decided to give this homeless man… There's this one lady who was trying to buy…" I was in awe! Service I never knew had happened, but by listening to others story I was being inspired. I felt peace wash over me. We need to learn from others experiences. So as I embarked on this little journey I felt the peace of the Lord with me. I try to keep faith when Satan tries to wiggle his way into my thoughts making me doubt myself and this <i>crazy</i> idea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">With that as a back drop I have asked a few people to tell me their experience during the last three years. This story is written by our dear friend Kim. She is beyond blessed with amazing gifts. She is constantly learning a new trade. She went to church with us and offered to do something we all knew she could do. I'd never heard the whole story but after reading it I knew this is the one to start with. Kim was an earthly angel going about the work God put in front of her. Not only is she full of talent but humble as well. Thank you Kim for the gifts you share so freely. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember seeing a little blurb on Facebook from Ashlee and something about her husband being </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">gone</i><span style="font-size: large;">....that she and her babies will love him forever.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't remember the exact wording, I just remember how it made me feel.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was in shock.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was devastated.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't know what to do.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was very early in the morning, I was up with my early rising baby...</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't know who to call.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't know Ashlee very well, but I enjoyed being around her and her beautiful kids.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There was just something about her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She seemed very self-less.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Her kids, her family, were her world.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My heart broke for what had happened.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I knew immediately what I wanted to do.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to make a blanket for those babies.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I wanted that blanket to be made from their Daddies clothing.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It is a hard thing to explain how the idea came to me.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Those blankets were going to be made.....whether they were my hands or not.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I almost didn't do it.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was almost too afraid to put myself out there.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was afraid to ask for the clothing at such a delicate and emotional time in Ashlee's life.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't know if, given the whole situation, if Ashlee even wanted a reminder like that around.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I went back and forth......</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I asked the opinion of some mutual friends and they all agreed that it would be a wonderful thing to do.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As I dumped the bag full of clothing on my floor, I was overwhelmed.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Overwhelmed because looking at the clothing, <b>I knew</b> I was supposed to make each child a blanket instead of one large one</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So I was overwhelmed with that very large task ahead of me....</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But also overwhelmed by the amazing angels I felt around me.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Overwhelmed with the spirit I felt.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had done many quilts before, but I was no expert, that's for sure.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I had such different fabrics to work with, t-shirt material, thick shorts, button up shirts.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I questioned it in the beginning.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">How could I make this work and not just be something she would just end up throwing away.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I decided to back all the t-shirts with an iron-on, making it thicker, and not stretchy.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I wanted to come up with a unique design....not just the run of the mill t-shirt quilt.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And then I started.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I will never, to this day, be able to explain what happened after I started those quilts.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I was not making those quilts.</span></b></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything just happened.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything went so smoothly together.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything made sense.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The colors went together so well to make each quilt so special and individual.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Things worked that shouldn't have worked.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had enough fabric even when I had sworn I had used the last of the matching fabric.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My baby boy......he required much less attention than usual.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My kids played well together as I worked, not fighting as much as usual.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When I went to buy fabric for backing, someone handed me 50% off coupons to use.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I knew I had a specific blanket for each individual child.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I felt like I knew what their little hearts needed.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When I was finished laying out the five blankets, I had several left over, already made, squares.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am not a very organized person....so this is actually a common thing to happen when I am making something.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I over-make.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But this time it was different.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There were just enough extra squares to fit together a quilt that would include the colors and squares from all the other quilts.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I got a knot in my stomach.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Should I?</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Would Ashlee want one too???</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I decided it wasn't my job to question.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was obviously supposed to be made.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I made an extra border to go around so it would be a decent adult size lap quilt.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And before I knew it, 6 quilts were made.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">SIX QUILTS!</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I did not keep record or how long it took me.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But I would say it was not more than a few days.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was an amazingly spiritual experience.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was actually floored by it all.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">They were done.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't want to be the one to deliver the blankets to her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't feel like I should get any praise for it.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Because<b> I </b>didn't do it.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After some prayer (and terrible indigestion), I took them to Ashlee's house.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The couches were full of family members and friends.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to drop the bag off and run, but they asked me to show them.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was hard for me.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted badly to tell Ashlee that I was so grateful that she allowed me to do this.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Allowed me to do such a personal thing for her little family.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Allowed me to have such an amazing spiritual experience.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But I am not very good with words.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So I gave her a big hug.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Ashlee just held on.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She hugged me with everything she had.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I knew for sure that this was what I was supposed to do for her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This was how I could help her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am Thankful that I listened to that still small voice, urging me to make these quilts.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am Thankful for the Angels that surrounded me over those few days to finish up a work that I could have <b>never</b> done alone.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am most grateful for the courage given to me through prayer.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This experience will be forever in my heart.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Don't ignore it when you feel the need to do something to help someone out.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Even if it is small.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Even if you are afraid to do it.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">JUST DO IT!</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This is how the lord works.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We are his hands.</span></div>
<div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-26906662557261285452014-04-10T15:13:00.003-07:002014-04-10T15:13:37.990-07:00beep beep<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friendship is a two way street. Sometimes the roads are busy, both lanes being used frequently. Other times the roads are barren and when two cars happen to pass it is a blissful site. The point is when we do pass are we waving, welcoming each other in or are we purposely looking the other way? About 5 years ago we moved back to our old house we had left after being in Idaho Falls for a year. When I came back to church for the first time, I sat on the back row with a chip on my shoulder. These people were nothing like my friends on the other side of the state. They were all older and in a different stage of life and so perfect. There was no way we would become friends. Many would stop and welcome me and reach out but I sat with my arms crossed not letting anyone in. Then a crazy thing happened, they asked me to work in the Primary with a seven year old class. All I could think was, "bright idea putting a mother of four in with a bunch of kids." I would have kids for breakfast, lunch and dinner and now all day Sunday! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">****I just want to clarify, although I went in with a booger of an attitude, I slowly found joy and peace with those kids. They were so much fun, teaching me all new kinds of tricks and eternal truths. I love seeing these now eleven year olds walking around our subdivision and when I honk they may or may not wave back. Regardless, they will always have a special place in my heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So…. I would sit and glare at the Bishop (Leader of our congregation), sink down in my seat and continue to build up a crusty coral reef that a few dared to explore. And as luck would have it, we decided to have another baby. To add to my fury my one friend and neighbor moved out. I'm not going lie, I prayed every night that someone would move in that I would get along with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two months later, moving trucks made their way down my street. When I saw them I was a little giddy and sick to my stomach. I made my way down the street and knocked. Later that night I posted this on my family blog...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">"Just met my neighbor down the street. She has four kids, four and under, needs a work out buddy, is a photographer, doesn't let her kids use potty words, doesn't wash her hair every day........God does answer prayers!"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">Never did I know how she would change my life, how she would impact everyone that met her. Yet she was just a mom like me. It's funny though, that this friendship budded a simple welcome to the neighborhood with my not so </span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">infamous bread. Now she's gluten free so I openly call her my far sided celiac friend. But that's all it took. She later invited me to go shopping and later to Arby's for a shake. I'd like to say it was down hill from there, but it wasn't. We were still good friends, but we welcomed more friends into our neighborhood. We were known lovingly as the Mormon mommy's at the end of our street. We had 18 kids between four houses. We all felt like we basically won the jack pot of friendships. We spent countless hours perched on our toes as our kids ran down the street, all while trying to keep conversation. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Ashlee drifted one way and I drifted another. When we did pass by we enjoyed a friendly chat. Then before we had our babies we would walk. During one walk I complained about my back hurting. Later she invited me over and taught me stretches to ease my pains. When the bomb dropped things went crazy. She was always preoccupied with things. She was a shell of a human, living inside her thoughts. I tried to keep things light when we were together. Most the time I would let myself in. I would text her to see what was up. Looking back I'm sure I bugged the crap out of her. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I remember at one point seeing that her car never came this way. We rarely passed and when we did she'd look the other way. I kept driving her way. I never stopped. Sometimes we'd ride together looking the other way. Other times she'd drive my way, I'd give a brief smile and keep going along my journey.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">What kind of friend are you? Are you looking the other way, too busy or preoccupied?As friends we shouldn't count the trips down the one way street when the other road is under construction. I had two amazing friends that I set up road block for when I moved back, whom now I admire and look to for advice and counsel. Stellar women that are more grounded than dirt. I've had my own construction that's caused some detours for Ashlee; she's driven my way when storms raged. Real friendships sometimes go down other roads for a while, maybe in another state, with a newborn babe, down in the depths of depression or on a FB sabbatical. And that's okay. Remember to be there when they return; welcome them home with a loving warm hug of forgiveness and understanding. Be the friend you want when you return. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3684283512089414610.post-26497563752203829232014-04-04T20:47:00.002-07:002014-04-09T11:17:38.738-07:00Costco Hot DogsI have been in a slump lately. I have always been a pretty cheery person. And then sometimes, I get caught in a trap. A trap that encases all of us at some point or another. I was trying to explain my frustration to a friend when she said, "Auna Leigh, just say it. I won't judge you for how you feel." I broke down, "I don't know Jennece, sometimes I feel unvalidated, as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend. I have always felt a little uncertain of who I am. I feel insecure. I am suppose to be starting a new blog. It's something I know I need to do. But what if I trip and land flat on my face. What if I no one likes it? I don't want to be self promoting. I don't need any big awards. I just want to help others know how to be a friend and find joy along the way. But what if, what if, what if?"<br />
This dear sweet friend told me. "Auna so what? You'll never know if you don't try. I believe you need to search out your heart and pray for validation from the Lord." I continued, "But I know I am suppose to." My wise friend said, "There is nothing wrong with praying for a strong confirmation or a second witness." I agreed. This was a good thing that would put my mind at ease. So I started praying, on my knees, in the car, out loud and in my closet. I needed this witness. I deserved God's love. <br />
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Then around 4:15pm I got a call. It was my sweet ten year old daughter. "Um Mom, are you going to come get me?" My heart stopped, my daughter had been at school for over a half hour waiting with a 5 foot stuffed bear that she had chosen to snuggle with during her class "read in". How could I have forgotten? I had taken her to school that day with a ginormous bear, knowing full well I had to bring her home with it. As I picked her up, I ran out and gave her a big hug, apologizing all over the place. (Don't you do that as a mother, a friend, a wife, a daughter? I was listening to my sister talk with a friend on the phone today, both apologizing. When one would stop, the other would begin. I finally told her to "knock it off, you're both doing the best that you can.")<br />
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I helped Emme stuff the big old bear in the trunk and jumped in the car. As we drove away there were tears in her eyes and there was a visible lump in my throat. The thing that really sucks is this wasn't the first time I'd royally messed up. Just a month earlier I had missed her big performance for BSU's halftime show with all the BSU cheerleaders. I had schedule it for a half hour later. Grrrrrr. I broke the silence, "Will you forgive me?" Emme looked at me with those big blue eyes glistening with tears, "But Mom how could you forget. You drove me to school this morning with the bear. You knew I needed a ride home. How could you forget me?" I looked her in the eye and said, "Em I am so sorry. I simply forgot. I really try my best to get everything right, but I don't. Do you think I'd ever do this on purpose? I would never want to hurt you. Let's list all the things I do to show my love for you." She looked at me as if I was half crazy, and she may be right, and said, "Mom, I know you love me. I mean you did HAVE me!" I smiled ear to ear, "You're right I did. But let's go back 9 months before that. I WANTED you. I told your Dad that it was time for you to come! Did you know we had only been married 3 months when we decided to have you!? And then I carried you for nine miserable months. And then I had to push you out of me!!!" She giggled, "Hey you wanted me!"<br />
As we got closer to home she kept adding to the list of all the things I do for her, wash her clothes, do her hair, make her food, drive her to her activities, etc. When we parked the car I looked at her in a new light, "Emme look at you. You are happy. How can you be so happy?" She grabbed her coat and starting opening the door and said, "I don't know. I just forget about it." And she didn't give it another thought. <br />
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I went to sleep last night with still a heaviness about me. I just felt uncertain about everything. I had the feeling of wanting to fall asleep for a long time, maybe not waking up until summer. In the morning I got up late, sent the kids off to school and set off to do a bunch of errands. One of which was a trip to Costco with my sissy Andi. Nothing profound happened with her, but the time connecting was rejuvenating. She listened to my incessant whining. I bought her a hot dog. (All for our Nanny, bless her soul.) I listened as she talked about her unknown future and the possibility of moving out of state. She fed my kids and watched them play. The simple things. And then the door bell rang and in came a little guy. Ding dong. Here comes a little girl. The week before she had a little fourteen year old boy who has down syndrome over to play. I sat spell bound watching her bounce from one kid to another. Each wrapped in her affection. When hadn't my sister had a house full of kids? She was always helping other moms. She then kicked me out the door to be with my husband to celebrate our 12th anniversary. She is an angel in my life and the thought of her moving away tares at my heart. <br />
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A felt the need to share these two stories for two reasons. First, my ten year old daughter taught me that all the validation she needed, she already had. This pushed me to think inward. God loves me, he wants me. With every breath I take, every beat of my heart, the tinniest of snotty kisses, the string of green lights to get me home quicker, verify that I am validated. All I need to do is open my eyes and see. See the sun bursting through the clouds. Enjoy a breathtaking rainbow. Secondly, I needed to see my sister in action. I was inspired. This is why I wanted to begin a blog. I want to share the love others share with me. Today I sponged off of her goodness and service. She helped me feel full again. And that is what we do as friends, sponge, vent, push, kick, inspire, and uplift. <br />
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So how can we be a better friend? Validate each other. Compliments go a long way. I like that shirt on you. I love how you wear your hair. I love how grateful you are. I like how you give so much of yourself as a mother. We see it; we recognize it, but do we say it? Just like Christ is there to be our friend. He's there to bare our pains, to tell us we are worth it. We can be His hands in validating each other. <br />
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After Ashlee's husband had passed I was constantly trying to be there for her. I would pray daily to know what she needed. Many times, it was a simple text. "<i>Just want you to know I think your amazing." "You looked hot today." "You are an amazing mom." "Seriously, how did you get so lucky to have 5 fantastic kids?" "I am so proud of you." "You are such a great example." </i>I've learned that when the thought first comes into your head, say it. I can't tell you how many times I have noticed something spectacular and not commented and later regretted it. You will never lose by validating some one. Share the light you feel inside.<br />
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****After writing this story I shared it with my daughter. She liked it. I feel validated. I feel alive!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10627187990926909653noreply@blogger.com0