TU Writers' Bloc http://feed.informer.com/digests/PHLDZHPZOH/feeder TU Writers' Bloc Respective post owners and feed distributors Sat, 19 Jan 2019 10:55:21 -0500 Feed Informer http://feed.informer.com/ The Trooth about the Tooth Fairy http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23954 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:981686e6-d222-d607-c737-c6ade240821b Wed, 22 May 2019 08:29:08 -0400 My grandson hunched over a piece of paper, his small fingers busy writing. “Are you making up a story?” “Nah. Writing a letter.” “To whom?” “The Tooth Fairy. She’s late.” He shook his head. “But I better edit this before I put it under my pillow.” Words to warm an English-major grandma’s heart. However, his [&#8230;] <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-letter-1077860_1280-1024x653.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23957" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-letter-1077860_1280-1024x653.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-letter-1077860_1280-300x191.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-letter-1077860_1280-768x490.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-letter-1077860_1280-624x398.jpg 624w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-letter-1077860_1280.jpg 1280w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>My grandson hunched over a piece of paper, his small fingers busy writing.</p> <p>“Are you making up a story?”</p> <p>“Nah. Writing a letter.”</p> <p>“To whom?”</p> <p>“The Tooth Fairy. She’s late.” He shook his head. “But I better edit this before I put it under my pillow.”</p> <p>Words to warm an English-major grandma’s heart.</p> <p>However, his efforts inspired me to wonder: Where did this Tooth Fairy person/custom originate?</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-warrior-statue-viking-1114632_1920-1024x717.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23960" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-warrior-statue-viking-1114632_1920-1024x717.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-warrior-statue-viking-1114632_1920-300x210.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-warrior-statue-viking-1114632_1920-768x537.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-warrior-statue-viking-1114632_1920-624x437.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>Possibly with Norse culture. Warriors paid offspring for their baby teeth, carrying them into battle as good luck charms. Viking kids apparently made a real killing, much more than the $3.50 – 3.70 per tooth received by today’s little capitalists.</p> <p>But twenty-first-century children benefit in other ways. For example, girls can visit websites maintained by their personal Tooth Fairies that feature games, cartoons, castles, <em>and</em> Tooth Fairy stores.</p> <p>If their age, I’d deluge my online Tooth Fairy with letters, love and charges on my parents’ Visas. As a Viking child, I gladly would have done my patriotic duty. However, no Vikings, Internets or parental credit cards existed during my era. I knew only that the shadowy Tooth Fairy appeared an insomniac.</p> <p>Did she also bring new teeth to baby siblings, “gifts” that morphed them — and the rest of our family — into insomniacs? I considered lying in wait and firing pillows at her.</p> <p>Besides, she showed up late — or not at all — when money was tight at our house. When I did discover a shiny dime under my pillow and bought a giant PAYDAY, though, I appreciated anew the Tooth Fairy’s efforts.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-smile-with-gap-2019489_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23958" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-smile-with-gap-2019489_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-smile-with-gap-2019489_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-smile-with-gap-2019489_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-smile-with-gap-2019489_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>The irony of buying candy with Tooth Fairy money was lost on me and my friends. But we deduced other important Tooth Fairy principles, including: the bigger the teeth, the lower our returns. By the time we lost primary molars, the Tooth Fairy had deserted us for younger devotees with handmade Tooth Fairy pillows. The dentist barred us from his treasure chest, even if we didn’t yell.</p> <p>This permanent-tooth thing was overrated.</p> <p>Little did we know that soon, instead of raking in dimes, we’d pay more than the cost of a whole bag of PAYDAY candy bars <em>and</em> receive root canals in return.</p> <p>Lou the Tooth Fairy of YouTube fame briefly renewed my hopes for adults. A balding, sixtyish man dressed in a pink tutu, Lou hands cooperative patients cash. I could handle that — plus back pay since age 12.</p> <p>Sadly, Lou appears only when paid to do ads. I like my grandson’s Tooth Fairies better. Hardworking and crazy busy, they would appreciate help. As an honorary Tooth Fairy, I also could write my grandson a reply.</p> <p>But I’d better edit it twice.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-fairy-1206835_1280-1024x724.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23956" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-fairy-1206835_1280-1024x724.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-fairy-1206835_1280-300x212.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-fairy-1206835_1280-768x543.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-fairy-1206835_1280-624x441.jpg 624w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190522-fairy-1206835_1280.jpg 1280w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p><strong>Your Extraordinary Ordinary:</strong> Did the Tooth Fairy ever visit you?</p> Good news / Bad news https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/05/good-news-bad-news.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:638395b8-014f-a776-a612-880c8a8e6f62 Tue, 21 May 2019 17:39:53 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">THE GOOD</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--Beautiful May flowers and the sweet fragrance of the lily of the valleys permeating the air.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kZn6Ne0TdAg/XOQHdNFGR2I/AAAAAAAAVa8/lg5_6A_TLyM89d6bKRDtDmMPYMRn7EmdACLcBGAs/s1600/60612667_10100767033362406_4775455986167054336_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="506" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kZn6Ne0TdAg/XOQHdNFGR2I/AAAAAAAAVa8/lg5_6A_TLyM89d6bKRDtDmMPYMRn7EmdACLcBGAs/s320/60612667_10100767033362406_4775455986167054336_n.png" width="316" /></a></div><br />--The lovely keepsake box Sam made made me for Mother's Day.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P9JJX5fas_M/XOQHtUgJToI/AAAAAAAAVbY/Glxygs264ew4TnmIyjnlSuhP0dp9ZTPSQCLcBGAs/s1600/60604867_10100764866110596_3981979723331796992_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="960" height="227" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P9JJX5fas_M/XOQHtUgJToI/AAAAAAAAVbY/Glxygs264ew4TnmIyjnlSuhP0dp9ZTPSQCLcBGAs/s320/60604867_10100764866110596_3981979723331796992_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />--The Mother's Day tea at Grace Village featuring the Apron Lady's stories, songs, and dozens of her treasured aprons. (Judy and I were in Grace College together 50+ years ago.)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ys_cBaYPA5M/XOQIsvJTNqI/AAAAAAAAVbw/bD1GrLZLyWg9LbI51pGqcmdvPlxzx73-QCLcBGAs/s1600/Mother%2527s%2BDay%2BTea%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ys_cBaYPA5M/XOQIsvJTNqI/AAAAAAAAVbw/bD1GrLZLyWg9LbI51pGqcmdvPlxzx73-QCLcBGAs/s640/Mother%2527s%2BDay%2BTea%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--The Wild Trees tutorial two of us enjoyed during art club.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJLfboK4vN0/XOQHdXiU7BI/AAAAAAAAVbc/UtbUPVVysIYkaG7IikSO1ynJV30BmPYZQCEwYBhgL/s1600/60662988_10100767279214716_5536661836130156544_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="683" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJLfboK4vN0/XOQHdXiU7BI/AAAAAAAAVbc/UtbUPVVysIYkaG7IikSO1ynJV30BmPYZQCEwYBhgL/s320/60662988_10100767279214716_5536661836130156544_n.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--The WhatsApp chats with a couple friends I grew up with in Argentina, and photos of their children. Sadly, Julio's daughter (far right) passed away a year ago.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yujVdbuimWE/XOQHebMwiPI/AAAAAAAAVbg/r7zlObrms5kl8PV8lYR4dt2djTo7YCJgQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Siblings%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yujVdbuimWE/XOQHebMwiPI/AAAAAAAAVbg/r7zlObrms5kl8PV8lYR4dt2djTo7YCJgQCEwYBhgL/s640/Siblings%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--The successful completion of sophomore year for Moriah and her friend! Here they are pointing to the culprit. Elaine had to pospone her trip home to Minnesota and spend the night here due to a faulty tire. Thankfully Michael and our friends at Upland Tire were able to find her a good replacement.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2SBnPKCdvUc/XOQHc3GtP9I/AAAAAAAAVbk/_aQR2hTSmoIFmW_a80rlNlOHs_PS6Q8LgCEwYBhgL/s1600/60484600_10100767033502126_5600681523427672064_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="824" height="261" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2SBnPKCdvUc/XOQHc3GtP9I/AAAAAAAAVbk/_aQR2hTSmoIFmW_a80rlNlOHs_PS6Q8LgCEwYBhgL/s400/60484600_10100767033502126_5600681523427672064_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--Elijah's well-done speech -- "<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Addiction- jail/prison or treatment?</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">&nbsp;"&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8sm1u1bp9KM/XORexTFQ8JI/AAAAAAAAVcg/9H_1Nm4hP10Lj7SOzzDR-KlNK3aXvEjkQCEwYBhgL/s1600/60788155_10216640648621696_5036656629886484480_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8sm1u1bp9KM/XORexTFQ8JI/AAAAAAAAVcg/9H_1Nm4hP10Lj7SOzzDR-KlNK3aXvEjkQCEwYBhgL/s320/60788155_10216640648621696_5036656629886484480_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--A great hike at Mounds State Park with a new Meet-up group--old and young from near and far.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xA_UMz51ZA4/XORYG7E96RI/AAAAAAAAVcM/jX2sCPImTxA7QXpc3vauiTuWdpYSN5KMACEwYBhgL/s1600/highres_481459681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xA_UMz51ZA4/XORYG7E96RI/AAAAAAAAVcM/jX2sCPImTxA7QXpc3vauiTuWdpYSN5KMACEwYBhgL/s400/highres_481459681.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And delicious smores at the end.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EVDivOe_3zA/XOQHeEBCV0I/AAAAAAAAVbk/D4skFGOq9SwYSOo7x0ziHTtGfl-6Gvk5ACEwYBhgL/s1600/Mounds%2Bhike%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EVDivOe_3zA/XOQHeEBCV0I/AAAAAAAAVbk/D4skFGOq9SwYSOo7x0ziHTtGfl-6Gvk5ACEwYBhgL/s640/Mounds%2Bhike%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of the new friends had extra tickets to the Taylor University commencement and invited me to go with her!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">--A birthday wish fulfilled, the privilege to experience a wonderful graduation ceremony, hear VP Mike Pence speak, and hug one of the graduates who helped me set up my author page and website!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6OXLvpYJiLg/XOQHdjHFMuI/AAAAAAAAVbc/5OiwzsIepR8kzsQ0tpYlZ-48L_v3vQjfwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Commencement%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6OXLvpYJiLg/XOQHdjHFMuI/AAAAAAAAVbc/5OiwzsIepR8kzsQ0tpYlZ-48L_v3vQjfwCEwYBhgL/s640/Commencement%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my new friend Patty, the golden ticket, the commencement crowd and speaker, Aubree DeVisser!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--The last chapter I wrote included memories of my second birthday!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uOm6mWGhEWE/XOQKiqYy3QI/AAAAAAAAVb8/cTWHVOGcjv8w38OJ4YwgWOySN_YSQ-fSACLcBGAs/s1600/Rita%2B2%2Bbd%2Bgift.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="639" height="294" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uOm6mWGhEWE/XOQKiqYy3QI/AAAAAAAAVb8/cTWHVOGcjv8w38OJ4YwgWOySN_YSQ-fSACLcBGAs/s320/Rita%2B2%2Bbd%2Bgift.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">THE BAD&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What a week! Our house is in terrible disarray:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--The refrigerator stopped working a week ago. Michael ordered three different parts in succession. Each attempt to repair it failed. Last night we purchased a new fridge which will arrive Friday. Meanwhile we make do with styrofoam coolers and frozen juice bottles.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--My laptop also stopped working. The Geek Squad was unable to repair it and are sending it back to the manufacturer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--The kitchen sink drain was blocked for a couple days until we were able to purchase an auger.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--As prearranged, our main living room furniture, the sectional, was picked up to be reupholstered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--One of the recently acquired bee hives died out or disappeared.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">However, as we look back, we must conclude the good outweighed the bad. Wouldn't you say?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We had two interesting visitors, not necessarily good or bad--a racoon that came up to the back door and looked in (no photo), and a critter by our front door! That's life in the woods.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pDKTeZoBwj4/XOQHdf0ZpII/AAAAAAAAVbg/-27eLjMTcNEFihYxHOpC4COrs7RLGbhkACEwYBhgL/s1600/20190516_161103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pDKTeZoBwj4/XOQHdf0ZpII/AAAAAAAAVbg/-27eLjMTcNEFihYxHOpC4COrs7RLGbhkACEwYBhgL/s320/20190516_161103.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/LrM8VKoOX8Y" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> OMG, It’s Monday! Prayer: Maybe a Little Too Loud? http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23883 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:2a3756fc-ede8-98e1-a09b-87bab1db1275 Mon, 20 May 2019 08:18:01 -0400 O my God, some of Your children love to sing loud in church, and I’m one of them. While we know You’re not hard of hearing, we&#8217;re glad You’re not nervous, either. What? … OMG, maybe the people in the pews in front of us are? &#160; <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190520-cat-2356021_640.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23884" width="637" height="425"/><figcaption>Hitting the high note.</figcaption></figure></div> <p><strong>O my God, some of Your children love to sing loud in church, and I’m one of them. While we know You’re not hard of hearing, we&#8217;re glad You’re not nervous, either.</strong></p> <p><strong>What? … OMG, maybe the people in the pews in front of us are? &nbsp;</strong></p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190520-cat-1706757_640.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23885" width="429" height="478" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190520-cat-1706757_640.jpg 279w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190520-cat-1706757_640-269x300.jpg 269w" sizes="(max-width: 429px) 100vw, 429px" /></figure></div> <p></p> Milking It https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/18/milking-it/ Jody's Musings urn:uuid:674cd2c6-6eac-73c6-e91f-6b68418ccef1 Sat, 18 May 2019 08:13:35 -0400 Milk is such a part of most people&#8217;s diets that it stars in quite a few adages. From not crying over spilled milk to milking something for all it is worth, this white beverage is also mentioned in the Bible multiple times. My family has always been a 2% family. Whole milk is simply too &#8230; <a href="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/18/milking-it/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Milking It</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="1191" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/18/milking-it/milk-518067_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg" data-orig-size="640,505" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;5&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;NIKON D5100&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;40&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;400&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.01&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="milk-518067_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg?w=640" class=" wp-image-1191 aligncenter" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg?w=559&#038;h=441" alt="milk-518067_640" width="559" height="441" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg?w=559&amp;h=441 559w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=118 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=237 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/milk-518067_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 559px) 100vw, 559px" /></p> <p>Milk is such a part of most people&#8217;s diets that it stars in quite a few adages. From not crying over spilled milk to milking something for all it is worth, this white beverage is also mentioned in the Bible multiple times.</p> <p>My family has always been a 2% family. Whole milk is simply too thick and skim milk is colored water. We can survive on 1%, but give us 2% and we&#8217;ll celebrate your milk of human kindness.</p> <p>When we first moved to Brazil, milk didn&#8217;t grace the dairy shelves in the grocery store. Instead, we found it sitting in boxes on an unrefrigerated shelf. These cartons looked like juice boxes but had no hole to make opening easier. <img data-attachment-id="1192" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/18/milking-it/box-305088_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png" data-orig-size="438,552" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="box-305088_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=238" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=438" class=" wp-image-1192 alignright" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=172&#038;h=216" alt="box-305088_640" width="172" height="216" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=172&amp;h=216 172w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=344&amp;h=432 344w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=119&amp;h=150 119w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/box-305088_640-e1558107286105.png?w=238&amp;h=300 238w" sizes="(max-width: 172px) 100vw, 172px" />Instead, one had to cut one&#8217;s way inside the foil-lined box by prying up the folded down flaps and cutting a bigger hole on one side and a smaller hole on the other.</p> <p>A too small hole made pouring milk a marathon adventure, and a too large hole left your carton erupting into a fountain. The worst thing about opening a new box of this shelf-stable milk was pouring out the room temperature beverage. There is something disturbing about lukewarm milk on one&#8217;s cereal.</p> <p>And pouring a tall glass of milk for enjoyment or to dunk one&#8217;s cookies didn&#8217;t really cross our minds.</p> <p>After we moved to the northern part of Brazil, we lived on a cattle ranch. The owners kindly gave us  buckets of milk. We said thank you and made cheese since the milk tasted so different than what we were used to.</p> <p>Eventually, my mother came up with the beverage that most closely resembled American milk &#8212; by using powdered milk.</p> <p><img data-attachment-id="1193" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/18/milking-it/cereal-1262202_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg" data-orig-size="640,426" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;3.2&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;ILCE-6000&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;55&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;800&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.01&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="cereal-1262202_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=640" class=" wp-image-1193 alignleft" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=215&#038;h=143" alt="cereal-1262202_640" width="215" height="143" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=215&amp;h=143 215w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=430&amp;h=286 430w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=100 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/cereal-1262202_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=200 300w" sizes="(max-width: 215px) 100vw, 215px" />Now, people might scoff at the idea that powdered milk could create a taste of home, but they have probably never been exposed to the delight that is lukewarm, boxed milk. By combining two different levels of fat content, blending well, and chilling in the refrigerator, we were once again able to enjoy milk on our cereal &#8212; which we also had to make since cereal was rare and expensive.</p> <p>I now live where &#8220;normal&#8221; milk is easy to come by, but sometimes, I remind myself to pause and be grateful.</p> <p>And then enjoy my glass of cold milk.</p> <p>&#8220;Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation.&#8221;  I Peter 2:2</p> <p>Do you enjoy milk?</p> Writing & Editing For Gaming Course 2019: Final Reflections http://www.freelanceknight.com/writing-editing-for-gaming-course-2019-final-reflections/ Freelance Knight urn:uuid:306a516b-4d1b-b5b5-3cc5-ec6a3d26bdcb Fri, 17 May 2019 05:30:37 -0400 <p>Wednesday was the final session of the 2019 Writing &#38; Editing for Gaming course. I asked my students to email me an honest reflection on the course to help me improve it for the next time I teach it. I&#8230; </p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com/writing-editing-for-gaming-course-2019-final-reflections/">Writing &#038; Editing For Gaming Course 2019: Final Reflections</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com">Freelance Knight</a>.</p> The Great Toothpaste Quest http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23705 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:36be80b6-d502-3b32-bdbe-4b0c4c95487b Wed, 15 May 2019 07:16:21 -0400 My husband pokes his head out the bathroom door. “Would you pick up toothpaste while you’re out?” “Sure.” If I had a brain, I would not ask the following question. But I am an American — programmed by 5,000 daily ads to love choices. “What kind of toothpaste?” “No fancy stuff. Plain old toothpaste.” Kissing [&#8230;] <p>My husband pokes his head out the bathroom door. “Would you pick up toothpaste while you’re out?”</p> <p>“Sure.” If I had a brain, I would not ask the following question. But I am an American — programmed by 5,000 daily ads to love choices. “What kind of toothpaste?”</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-paste-and-toothbrush-3191097_1920-1-1024x560.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23711" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-paste-and-toothbrush-3191097_1920-1-1024x560.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-paste-and-toothbrush-3191097_1920-1-300x164.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-paste-and-toothbrush-3191097_1920-1-768x420.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-paste-and-toothbrush-3191097_1920-1-624x341.jpg 624w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-paste-and-toothbrush-3191097_1920-1.jpg 1594w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>“No fancy stuff. Plain old toothpaste.” Kissing me goodbye, he leaves for work, not noticing his words just shut down my body systems.</p> <p>“Plain old toothpaste”? How could the love of my life condemn me to such a fate?</p> <p>Therapeutic coffee brings me to my senses. A veteran of 44 Christmas seasons should not be so easily shaken. Not only will I find plain old toothpaste, I will hit a triple-coupon, buy-10-for-$10 sale.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-therapeutic-coffee-cup-2317201_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23713" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-therapeutic-coffee-cup-2317201_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-therapeutic-coffee-cup-2317201_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-therapeutic-coffee-cup-2317201_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-therapeutic-coffee-cup-2317201_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>The 329 brands in the first discount store do not intimidate me. My choice was settled decades ago because, like most parents of Baby Boomers, mine heeded the infallible Sixties’ “Look, Ma, no cavities!” commercials featuring kids wearing Roy Rogers cowboy hats. If you couldn’t trust Roy Rogers for your dental care, whom could you trust?</p> <p>So, I gravitate to the familiar logo, searching shelves where I should find a hundred tubes of plain old toothpaste. Instead, in my quest for the pure and simple, I must read each and every label. Hubby never has liked big stripes on his shirts or toothpaste.</p> <p>Blue gels resemble congealed Windex. No peroxide, baking soda, or Clorox<sup>®</sup> needed. As for pro-health and clean mint varieties — hopefully, they do not present true breakthroughs. Did manufacturers formerly sell anti-health and dirty mint toothpaste?</p> <p>I cannot find one single tube of plain old toothpaste. But when the going gets tough, wimps hit the Internet. Somewhere in all cyberspace, I will find it.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-curry-spice-1631562_1920-1024x552.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23708" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-curry-spice-1631562_1920-1024x552.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-curry-spice-1631562_1920-300x162.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-curry-spice-1631562_1920-768x414.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-curry-spice-1631562_1920-624x337.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>Instead, I find 3,481 flavors. During the 1960s, any brand that dared deviate from mint was subject to congressional review. Today, however, choices include vanilla, bitter chocolate, caramel, pumpkin pudding, cola, Indian curry and pork. If a person wants to go to work smelling like a distillery, he can brush with bourbon-flavored paste.</p> <p>However, my husband likes his job. I give up and buy tartar control. Will he notice the difference?</p> <p>Having spent all energy and brain power on the Great Toothpaste Quest, I have forgotten to buy groceries. Out of milk, I stop by a small village store and discover plain old mint toothpaste. No gel. No bleach. No curry. No bourbon.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-leaves-of-mint-4172886_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23710" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-leaves-of-mint-4172886_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-leaves-of-mint-4172886_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-leaves-of-mint-4172886_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-leaves-of-mint-4172886_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>I dash home with my treasure, excited. He seems mildly pleased.</p> <p>Minutes later, he sticks his head out the bathroom door. “Could you buy me more deodorant, please? None of that fancy stuff ….”</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-green-paste-and-toothbrush-2789792_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23709" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-green-paste-and-toothbrush-2789792_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-green-paste-and-toothbrush-2789792_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-green-paste-and-toothbrush-2789792_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190515-green-paste-and-toothbrush-2789792_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p><strong>Your Extraordinary Ordinary:</strong> What “simple” shopping trip turned complicated for you?</p> Rosie, posies, and more https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/05/rosie-posies-and-more.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:46d7a487-1730-6688-3888-1f4c9008f94f Tue, 14 May 2019 23:47:06 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The greening of spring has happened. Warmer weather peaks through the rain.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tGvfRPeAzrI/XNoc8tp_dbI/AAAAAAAAVZo/jxf1X87T41ARt6LzxiZBvz39i8jC8e-qACLcBGAs/s1600/59829065_10100762943628266_528955282978504704_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tGvfRPeAzrI/XNoc8tp_dbI/AAAAAAAAVZo/jxf1X87T41ARt6LzxiZBvz39i8jC8e-qACLcBGAs/s400/59829065_10100762943628266_528955282978504704_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A variety of seasonal blossoms come and go in the woods around us.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tuesday evenings when Mike is at robotics I sometimes follow a live watercolor tutorial. This week it helped me come up with a truckload of fake flowers which I can personalize and give as graduation cards.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t90E6iyHvJQ/XNoc8Sw7j1I/AAAAAAAAVaY/q41EWkoz-UkL_hZFNWkYKOm8XHfl4Z5JQCEwYBhgL/s1600/59776685_10100762727246896_776887106273280000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="960" height="270" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t90E6iyHvJQ/XNoc8Sw7j1I/AAAAAAAAVaY/q41EWkoz-UkL_hZFNWkYKOm8XHfl4Z5JQCEwYBhgL/s320/59776685_10100762727246896_776887106273280000_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The happiest surprise of that day, however, was to hear my dear cousin's voice on Moody Radio!<br /><a href="https://www.moodyradio.org/programs/chris-fabry-live/2019/05/2019.05.07-50-years-of-rosie/?fbclid=IwAR0jdV1JN0OuUZNt4QCmju4pSalb25Eg9-ct8Tj72lJQ-2w-0sSRlpbXQVs">50 Years of Rosie</a>&nbsp;on Chris Fabry Live was a program to honor her, Dr. Rosalie de Rosset, and reflect on her five decades of teaching. Many called in and shared how their lives had been impacted through her caring influence. Rosie also shared what she had learned and experienced. It was a very touching well deserved tribute, and happened to be on her birthday!<br /><br />I, on the other hand, received a gift that far outweighed the service given--one hour interpreting for a Spanish speaking family at a parent-teacher conference.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i_LjMDSxqG4/XNoc9-cY4yI/AAAAAAAAVaY/bVbpjEE1qk4422gxEDWI2A64RBDPAtzlwCEwYBhgL/s1600/59900108_10100762943548426_7786112173855473664_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="495" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i_LjMDSxqG4/XNoc9-cY4yI/AAAAAAAAVaY/bVbpjEE1qk4422gxEDWI2A64RBDPAtzlwCEwYBhgL/s320/59900108_10100762943548426_7786112173855473664_n.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><br /><br />A favorite little visitor spent some time with us Thursday. We colored together, read books, or at least looked at the pictures.<br />If at all possible this <i>abuela</i>&nbsp;likes to include a Rebecca sighting in the weekly blog post.<br /><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XKOADACxqmc/XNoc93QTQYI/AAAAAAAAVaU/wgT-O9R_YV8dvgK78D7dHj9YGVmVXYw6wCEwYBhgL/s1600/59966580_10100762943518486_1088079915187699712_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="649" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XKOADACxqmc/XNoc93QTQYI/AAAAAAAAVaU/wgT-O9R_YV8dvgK78D7dHj9YGVmVXYw6wCEwYBhgL/s640/59966580_10100762943518486_1088079915187699712_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping her distance from a little creature, lest it jump on her, ha!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A bit later <i>abuelo</i>&nbsp;and I joined one other member of our little art club nd painted bluebirds. I inserted/framed our two using scrapbooking pages. I kinda like how they turned out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D9nqNmo9WA4/XNoc-veeb4I/AAAAAAAAVaY/iUugVkbNjwQrM8P2g1DboSn837zvqmtNACEwYBhgL/s1600/60350443_10100764037825486_521359302603046912_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="442" data-original-width="892" height="197" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D9nqNmo9WA4/XNoc-veeb4I/AAAAAAAAVaY/iUugVkbNjwQrM8P2g1DboSn837zvqmtNACEwYBhgL/s400/60350443_10100764037825486_521359302603046912_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Leah can't wait to get back to art club after the end of the month when her schedule opens up again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, meanwhile, and as a special mother/daughter activity we attended another Painting with Laura session at The Bridge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--mzXtiV_Cdg/XNoc8gu0lBI/AAAAAAAAVaI/iYGZ1MutYVUukHfUSQTxKjtoc-DsRohBQCEwYBhgL/s1600/59872876_2296619923944943_921419876839456768_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--mzXtiV_Cdg/XNoc8gu0lBI/AAAAAAAAVaI/iYGZ1MutYVUukHfUSQTxKjtoc-DsRohBQCEwYBhgL/s640/59872876_2296619923944943_921419876839456768_n.jpg" width="508" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Leah amazes us all with her speed and style. We were the first to leave, again. I decided to finish mine at home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fvbvjnZYKLs/XNoc91bDC3I/AAAAAAAAVaM/U-Qz26aj9Ow99Gy36nBPgzNNDIofpdK7gCEwYBhgL/s1600/59960266_10100762943428666_122340416849707008_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="907" height="230" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fvbvjnZYKLs/XNoc91bDC3I/AAAAAAAAVaM/U-Qz26aj9Ow99Gy36nBPgzNNDIofpdK7gCEwYBhgL/s400/59960266_10100762943428666_122340416849707008_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I added words and more and gave it to Mother.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CCNJ-gs2z-A/XNuILzg9ThI/AAAAAAAAVag/n6_HD49cUE43OQsJXDUjJAGKhZr0sNcbACLcBGAs/s1600/60461367_10100764654429806_8527032755840614400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="744" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CCNJ-gs2z-A/XNuILzg9ThI/AAAAAAAAVag/n6_HD49cUE43OQsJXDUjJAGKhZr0sNcbACLcBGAs/s320/60461367_10100764654429806_8527032755840614400_n.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Saturday was a huge day for Michael. Madjax hosted a big STEAM exhibit. PhyXTGears had a large presence at the event. The team set up their pit and displayed several of the robots. They also ran a variety of games and activities. From all the photos I could tell it was a success!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iujH75oScdc/XNoc-JJHzFI/AAAAAAAAVaY/Vx4cIIrIFjE6vBWeuOIGtjieFkwihdhwgCEwYBhgL/s1600/60133308_2453129851365527_6100881789906059264_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="960" height="438" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iujH75oScdc/XNoc-JJHzFI/AAAAAAAAVaY/Vx4cIIrIFjE6vBWeuOIGtjieFkwihdhwgCEwYBhgL/s640/60133308_2453129851365527_6100881789906059264_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Michael, however, was exhausted by the end of the day . . .&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CLGVUpXi5QM/XNoc-i9tCfI/AAAAAAAAVaQ/cz8vsEONnfAurUxjFiOYEN2aRKAcZd68QCEwYBhgL/s1600/60277789_10161801755590652_7679514852255072256_o%2Bb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1246" data-original-width="1600" height="249" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CLGVUpXi5QM/XNoc-i9tCfI/AAAAAAAAVaQ/cz8vsEONnfAurUxjFiOYEN2aRKAcZd68QCEwYBhgL/s320/60277789_10161801755590652_7679514852255072256_o%2Bb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorting Game: find 10 matching pieces and get a prize.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">. . .and week. Never a moment's rest for him, it seems. Even now our fridge is out!</div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/odadP3Q5A0M" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> OMG, It’s Monday! Prayer http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23628 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:67b68c75-7f7b-b3f3-7885-7e63850f9f9e Mon, 13 May 2019 07:58:47 -0400 Oh, my God, You know that after my first child’s birth, my pastor told me, “Nothing, short of salvation, will change your life like motherhood.” Duh. With my watermelon-sized stomach, hadn’t I been defying gravity? OMG, little did I know that after it flattened—sort of—the real labor began. So did the joy. &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; <ul class="wp-block-gallery columns-2 is-cropped"><li class="blocks-gallery-item"><figure><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/SRPhillipsPreBeth0001.jpg" alt="" data-id="23625" data-link="http://rachaelophillips.com/?attachment_id=23625" class="wp-image-23625" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/SRPhillipsPreBeth0001.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/SRPhillipsPreBeth0001-260x300.jpg 260w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" /></figure></li><li class="blocks-gallery-item"><figure><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/3-kids-1024x727.jpg" alt="" data-id="23629" data-link="http://rachaelophillips.com/?attachment_id=23629" class="wp-image-23629" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/3-kids-1024x727.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/3-kids-300x213.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/3-kids-768x545.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/3-kids-624x443.jpg 624w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/3-kids.jpg 1453w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure></li></ul> <p>Oh, my God, You know that after my first child’s birth, my pastor told me, “Nothing, short of salvation, will change your life like motherhood.” Duh. With my watermelon-sized stomach, hadn’t I been defying gravity? OMG, little did I know that after it flattened—sort of—the real labor began.</p> <p style="text-align:center">So did the joy. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190513-PhillipsClanCircus.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23627" width="503" height="376"/></figure></div> K.S. in Harlem https://onflesherpond.com/2019/05/13/k-s-in-harlem/ On Flesher Pond urn:uuid:080f3938-a6fa-0bc3-99eb-275ffd3c421d Mon, 13 May 2019 06:57:29 -0400 Several years ago, sister K.S. and I made a road trip to New York City to visit family. Narrowly catching the exit off the George Washington bridge, I turned toward East Harlem. It’s tricky finding a parking spot, but we ended up around the corner from the brownstone. We unloaded suitcases, and K.S. oohed and &#8230; <a href="https://onflesherpond.com/2019/05/13/k-s-in-harlem/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">K.S. in Harlem</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a> <p>Several years ago, sister K.S. and I made a road trip to New York City to visit family. Narrowly catching the exit off the George Washington bridge, I turned toward East Harlem. It’s tricky finding a parking spot, but we ended up around the corner from the brownstone. We unloaded suitcases, and K.S. <em>oohed</em> and <em>ahhed</em> over the two-story apartment &#8212; at the one-hundred-year-old sculpted plaster ceilings in the living and dining rooms; my son-in-law’s artwork in his studio upstairs; the sliding heavy oak closet doors eight feet high; my editor daughter’s bookcases twelve feet up with gliding ladder close-at-hand. </p> <p>Their spacious apartment is an oasis in the midst of Harlem’s crowded harshness. Outside, I closed the courtyard’s iron gate. Every few blocks we passed trash bags piled high, spilling out of alleyways. Along the curb, litter swirled around knee-high fences guarding young trees, and evidence lay scattered along the sidewalk that dogs had been there before us. </p> <p>K.S. and I made our way through the park toward the East River. We passed a homeless lady rummaging through her grocery cart, and K.S. commented to me that she might give her some cash on the way back. We walked the pedestrian bridge over the noisy traffic on the FDR Drive, then watched a barge steam by. A peaceful walkway, one of the nicest in the city, the Esplanade is evidently under the radar. No other tourists. We strolled and talked, as sisters do. </p> <p>Back across the elevated footbridge, the homeless lady still sat on the bench. We paused, and K.S. rooted around in her coat pocket. She spoke to the woman and handed her a bill. We both noticed the shocked look on the lady’s face. As we walked away, I asked, “How much did you give her, anyway?”</p> <p>“Only $5. Or maybe a ten. I couldn’t really see. I forgot my glasses.” </p> <p>Back at the brownstone, K.S. called me to the bedroom. “I know we figured we had just enough gas money to get home, but…” </p> <p>My left eyebrow raised in curious concern. “But what?” I asked.</p> <p>“I gave her my 50-dollar bill.”</p> <p>Both eyebrows shot straight up. “What? Well, of all the things to do.”</p> <p>She didn’t seem upset, just interested that it happened. I shook my head, but deep down K.S. impressed me with her attitude. This fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants artist shows me, the everything-has-to-be-just-so control leader, how to hold things more loosely. There can be an element of calm to any situation. Now I had to count my cash to see how tight it would be to get back home to the sanity of green grass and fields of corn.</p> <p>This past week, I drove K.S. down to Indianapolis to her final appointment before another surgery. She no longer can walk the Esplanade. After back and neck surgery, she plods, listing to the right, often needing a cane &#8212; compliments of working twenty-five years loading up to 75-pound packages at the local parcel delivery warehouse. </p> <p>I wheeled her around from the front desk to the nurse’s office, and she spent an hour answering questions and signing her life away (so to speak). On the way home, we ate at our favorite barbecue joint, and I mentioned that her job had caused her physical disability. She wasn’t bitter in her response. “That job made my life possible. I was able to feed my kids.” </p> <p>Rural life in east central Indiana is challenging. </p> <p>Then she said, “I’m staring death in the face. I don’t think I <em>won&#8217;t</em> pull through surgery, but I can’t shake the real possibility. What was the best part of my life now that it could be over?”</p> <p>I didn’t answer. We drove in silence for a few miles and then she said, “My entire life has been a struggle, but I have learned, and am now at peace. Maybe that’s the best part.”</p> The Magic in Mothers https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/ Jody's Musings urn:uuid:b394ed3b-f638-3b49-7883-8c55838accd0 Sun, 12 May 2019 09:41:32 -0400 When a woman becomes a mother, something changes in her DNA. Where once she might have looked askance on macaroni necklaces and bouquets of dandelions, suddenly these childish offerings become beautiful in her eyes. My mother received many such gifts. What I lacked in artistic abilities, I made up in quantity. Drawings of &#8220;roses&#8221; made &#8230; <a href="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">The Magic in&#160;Mothers</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="1185" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/dandelion-735814_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg" data-orig-size="640,359" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;5&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;NIKON D750&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;105&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;100&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.005&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="dandelion-735814_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg?w=640" class=" wp-image-1185 aligncenter" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg?w=547&#038;h=307" alt="dandelion-735814_640" width="547" height="307" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg?w=547&amp;h=307 547w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=84 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=168 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/dandelion-735814_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 547px) 100vw, 547px" /></p> <p>When a woman becomes a mother, something changes in her DNA. Where once she might have looked askance on macaroni necklaces and bouquets of dandelions, suddenly these childish offerings become beautiful in her eyes.</p> <p>My mother received many such gifts. What I lacked in artistic abilities, I made up in quantity. Drawings of &#8220;roses&#8221; made of interlocked squiggles, creations made of wooden pieces glued together by unskilled hands, and flowers picked from the yard were greeted with equal delight. <img data-attachment-id="1188" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/20190510_191018/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg" data-orig-size="3024,4032" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;2.4&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;SM-N960U&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;1557515418&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;4.3&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;50&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.0071942446043165&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;1&quot;}" data-image-title="20190510_191018" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=225" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=665" class=" wp-image-1188 alignright" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=316&#038;h=422" alt="20190510_191018" width="316" height="422" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=316&amp;h=422 316w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=632&amp;h=844 632w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=113&amp;h=150 113w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/20190510_191018.jpg?w=225&amp;h=300 225w" sizes="(max-width: 316px) 100vw, 316px" /></p> <p>Somewhere around the age of eight or nine, my creativity turned to the written word. I pumped out stories featuring my family as detectives (yes, I was enamored with Nancy Drew at the time). While sorting through the garage recently, I discovered one of these &#8220;masterpieces.&#8221; My internal editor cringed, but my mother had always received my stories with excitement.</p> <p>Recently I was on the phone with my sister when she received a precious gift from her son. This lovely, um, thing had been created with toilet paper and hand soap. No word on the actual purpose of the what&#8217;s-it, but my sister feigned delight and counted down the seconds before she could safely dispose of the gift.</p> <p>My nephew is also the king of concoctions (see below). He recently created a &#8220;surprise&#8221; by floating chips in a bowl of water with orange segments and bananas. Another creation mixed applesauce, lettuce, ranch dressing, and oranges. His aunt&#8217;s stomach is churning, yet when a gift is offered in love, magic happens. The bizarre and peculiar transforms into beautiful and precious in mommy&#8217;s eyes.</p> <a href='https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/img954029/#main'><img width="113" height="150" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954029.jpg?w=113&#038;h=150" class="attachment-thumbnail size-thumbnail" alt="" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954029.jpg?w=113 113w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954029.jpg?w=226 226w" sizes="(max-width: 113px) 100vw, 113px" data-attachment-id="1186" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/img954029/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954029.jpg" data-orig-size="2250,3000" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="IMG954029" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954029.jpg?w=225" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954029.jpg?w=665" /></a> <a href='https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/img954040/#main'><img width="113" height="150" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954040.jpg?w=113&#038;h=150" class="attachment-thumbnail size-thumbnail" alt="" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954040.jpg?w=113 113w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954040.jpg?w=226 226w" sizes="(max-width: 113px) 100vw, 113px" data-attachment-id="1187" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/the-magic-in-mothers/img954040/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954040.jpg" data-orig-size="2250,3000" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="IMG954040" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954040.jpg?w=225" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/img954040.jpg?w=665" /></a> <p>I no longer give my mother creations of glitter and construction paper. Now, I buy her hanging plants for her front porch for Mother&#8217;s Day. But she is still the first person to read my books and now receives scribbled drawings and strange gifts from her grandchildren &#8212; with exclamations of delight.</p> <p>So thank you, Lord, for mothers.</p> <p>After all, someone has to wear those macaroni necklaces.</p> <p>What&#8217;s the strangest gift you gave your mother or received from your child?</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> Game Studies Course: Third Edition http://www.freelanceknight.com/game-studies-course-third-edition/ Freelance Knight urn:uuid:a8bcf312-e5fc-924f-f045-adff8ac04ac5 Fri, 10 May 2019 05:30:59 -0400 <p>For the first edition of the Game Studies course in 2016, I co-taught the course with Dr. Jon Denning. For the second edition of the course in 2018, I co-taught with Dr. Jonathan Geisler. I recently learned we will be&#8230; </p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com/game-studies-course-third-edition/">Game Studies Course: Third Edition</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com">Freelance Knight</a>.</p> Is That All? http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/05/09/is-that-all/ PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author urn:uuid:d731bbb8-7034-9253-8d1a-d8da643756ed Thu, 09 May 2019 06:13:51 -0400 <p>Immediately upon giving birth to her fifth child, Nelma&#8217;s arms were empty. The hospital staff whisked away the baby before she could see him. &#8220;I want to see my son,&#8221; Nelma insisted. &#8220;You need to understand, there are problems with the baby.&#8221; The doctor explained that perhaps Nelma and her husband should consider an institution [&#8230;]</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/05/09/is-that-all/">Is That All?</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> <p dir="ltr">Immediately upon giving birth to her fifth child, Nelma&#8217;s arms were empty. The hospital staff whisked away the baby before she could see him.</p> <p dir="ltr">&#8220;I want to see my son,&#8221; Nelma insisted.</p> <p dir="ltr">&#8220;You need to understand, there are problems with the baby.&#8221; The doctor explained that perhaps Nelma and her husband should consider an institution for their newborn.</p> <p dir="ltr">&#8220;I want to see my son,&#8221; Nelma repeated.</p> <p dir="ltr">So the new bundle of babe was brought and placed in his mother&#8217;s arms. Nelma smelled the sweet new baby smell of him; she cooed to the little boy and cradled him to her heart. Then, ever so carefully, she unwrapped his blanket. There lay her infant, born without legs, his hands and arms not fully developed. Nelma took it all in, caressed his soft new skin, and smiled into his trusting eyes.</p> <p dir="ltr">&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she said softly, &#8220;is that all?&#8221;</p> <h4 dir="ltr"><strong>Hearth and Home</strong></h4> <p dir="ltr">And so Jerry went home with his mother to the welcoming arms of his family. The middle of seven children, Jerry was treated like everyone else in the family with the exception that there was no chair at Jerry&#8217;s place at the dinner table to allow for his wheelchair. When it was Jerry&#8217;s turn, he washed the dishes.</p> <p dir="ltr">A man from the circus came to ask if Jerry could be part of their freak show. Nelma and her husband threw him out of their home.</p> <p dir="ltr">&#8220;Jerry is not a freak,&#8221; Nelma informed the visitor, &#8220;Jerry is our son.&#8221;</p> <p dir="ltr">Years later Jerry prepared to move away to college. A friend from church, Barbara was overjoyed that Jerry would attend the same college where her daughter, Kathi, was enrolled. &#8220;Be sure to look her up when you get there,&#8221; Barbara said.</p> <p dir="ltr">Nearly a year later, Kathi made an impulsive trip home. In the familiar surroundings of her mother&#8217;s living room Kathi&#8217;s confused emotions exploded into tears. &#8220;Mom, Jerry wants to marry me. I know he loves me and I love him. But Mom, can you marry someone without legs?&#8221;</p> <p dir="ltr">Barbara’s arms and calm voice encircled her grown daughter. &#8220;Honey, since you were young I prayed for the right husband for you. I prayed he would be a thoughtful, compassionate man. I prayed your husband would be strong in character and integrity, that he would be a leader in his home, that he would provide well for you and your children. I prayed your future husband would know God, that he would be an honest, hard worker, that he would love you and be a tender life&#8217;s partner. I prayed you would be best friends as well as husband and wife.&#8221;</p> <p dir="ltr">Barbara paused to lift Kathi&#8217;s chin so their eyes met. &#8220;But Kathi, I never prayed he would have legs.&#8221;</p> <h4 dir="ltr"><strong>Birth Blessings</strong></h4> <p dir="ltr">With the blessing of their parents, Jerry and Kathi were married. Jerry and Kathi had five beautiful children, every other one with red hair like their mother.</p> <p dir="ltr">One day Jerry and Kathi&#8217;s oldest daughter invited her school age friend to come for dinner. Partway through her hotdog, the guest turned to her young hostess. &#8220;Your dad doesn&#8217;t have any legs.&#8221;</p> <p dir="ltr">Anna peered under the dining table to study her dad parked in his wheelchair. Returning upright, she replied, &#8220;Your dad doesn&#8217;t have a wheelchair.&#8221;</p> <p dir="ltr">A younger sister was learning in school about people with special needs. She came home one day and asked, &#8220;Mom, do we know anyone with disabilities?&#8221;</p> <p dir="ltr">All too soon, Jerry escorted his eldest daughter down the aisle to meet her groom, a young man she had grown up with in church. Next, Jerry and Kathi welcomed a daughter-in-law and the joyous arrival of grandchildren.</p> <p dir="ltr">As a public school resource specialist, Jerry worked with seventh graders with learning disabilities. Jerry was a popular speaker on overcoming great challenges, and directed a program teaching developmentally delayed adults theology, music, and everyday living skills.</p> <p dir="ltr">A lot of credit for the success of Jerry and Kathi&#8217;s family is directly attributed to Jerry and Kathi&#8217;s mothers – Nelma, who saw not her son&#8217;s handicaps but his potential. And Barbara who saw not the wheelchair that held the man, but the answered prayers within the man.</p> <p>What are your tips for living well? <a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/contact/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.peggysuewells.com/contact/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1557427162995000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGP1GBTa_zGQxyYmrst0IcPdrREZw">I’d like to hear from you.</a></p> <p><a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/downloads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.peggysuewells.com/downloads/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1557427162995000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEAaOKYXfzpWJLURliGLP5hPc-maQ">Click HERE </a>to receive my <a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/downloads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.peggysuewells.com/downloads/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1557427162995000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEAaOKYXfzpWJLURliGLP5hPc-maQ">FREE guide to simple, easy, and effective family devotions</a>.</p> <p><a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/bonding-with-your-child-through-boundaries.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-thumbnail wp-image-6826" src="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/bonding-with-your-child-through-boundaries-150x150.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="150" srcset="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/bonding-with-your-child-through-boundaries-150x150.jpg 150w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/bonding-with-your-child-through-boundaries-500x500.jpg 500w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/bonding-with-your-child-through-boundaries-100x100.jpg 100w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/bonding-with-your-child-through-boundaries-66x66.jpg 66w" sizes="(max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px" /></a></p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/05/09/is-that-all/">Is That All?</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> May Celebrations Begin https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/05/am-currently-enjoying-two-different.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:576c08b8-e7b5-8cc3-1e96-e9a0126b60c7 Wed, 08 May 2019 13:21:48 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>&nbsp;I am currently enjoying two different-year calendars that share the same dates--1946 and 2019. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CeKiMvoVF3E/XNHZJzv8YOI/AAAAAAAAVYk/siqv_sYEj6sQN1bRiDGzkdGUS_ing1SaACEwYBhgL/s1600/April%2Bcalendars%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1282" height="598" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CeKiMvoVF3E/XNHZJzv8YOI/AAAAAAAAVYk/siqv_sYEj6sQN1bRiDGzkdGUS_ing1SaACEwYBhgL/s640/April%2Bcalendars%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />The former is the year I am immersed in right now in my memoir writing. Do any of the memorable names or events listed mean anything to any of your out there?<br />1--Tsunami strikes Hawaii, killing over 100; US coal miners strike.<br />3--Japanese Lt. Gen who ordered Bataan Death March is executed.<br />5--First public performance of Charles Ives's 3rd Symphony; later wins Pulitzer Prize.<br />7--Herman Keiser wins 10th Masters Golf Tournament.<br />9--Montreal Canadiens win the Stanley Cup, beating Boston Bruins 4 games to 1.<br />13--Al Green, singer, is born.<br />17--<i>The Virginian</i>, starring Joel McCrea, is released in New York City.<br />18--Jackie Robinson debuts as second baseman for minor league Montreal Royals.<br />19--Film<i>&nbsp;The Blue Dahlia </i>is released.<br />22--John F. Kennedy announces he is running for U.S. House of Representatives<br />25--Railroad collision, Naperville, Ill. kills 40, injures 120.<br />26--Marilyn Nelson, poet, is born.<br /><br />The other calendar is a form of art. Every day I get to place 6 or 7 numbered stickers in their corresponding spots, very carefully--my fun activity, a reward for productivity, especially in writing.<br />April is complete. It is sobering to realize that one third of the year is over, time gone that cannot be recovered.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>&nbsp;My writing accomplishments were minor, but I did get "unstuck," finished and presented a chapter to my writing group. There is nothing to say about the robotics team. After the successful trip to World competition, they took a week off.<br /><br />This post will likely contain fewer old memories and more of the week's memorable moments. A couple old photos sufaced. I glean interesting details and information from them. The first was taken in the U.S. during a one-year furlough from my parents' missionary service in Argentina. <br />Interestingly, the expression on my face reminded me of my grandson who is now about that age.<br /><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lTiqJowNmH4/XNHVkk3mOAI/AAAAAAAAVYM/b_ttWsPKbYY0TBe4xVthpUbbSH9di318gCLcBGAs/s1600/Rita%2527s%2Bbd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="700" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lTiqJowNmH4/XNHVkk3mOAI/AAAAAAAAVYM/b_ttWsPKbYY0TBe4xVthpUbbSH9di318gCLcBGAs/s400/Rita%2527s%2Bbd.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 8th birthday in Winona Lake</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The second was also taken in the U.S., some thirty years later, during a short break away from the missionary ship where my own family served from 1978-1983.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wow! Look at blonde Sammy, Michael's thick hair, and my perm!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ppToYPqLSI/XNHVkiUqHjI/AAAAAAAAVYc/glsoTBTeQlwscIUc0S5dC1xpu61vUL7kwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Koch%2Bfam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="610" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ppToYPqLSI/XNHVkiUqHjI/AAAAAAAAVYc/glsoTBTeQlwscIUc0S5dC1xpu61vUL7kwCEwYBhgL/s640/Koch%2Bfam.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The first memorable event was the celebration of Kristie's monumental accomplishment--a master's degree in ABA (Applied Behavioral Analysis) from Ball State university in the midst of series of life challenges.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hzK3wXWBAns/XNLN01_OpoI/AAAAAAAAVY8/yFB3fmB5EiQmM6TSUco6-IB9lvpKJgFTQCLcBGAs/s1600/59414405_10216080249573769_5439527195066236928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hzK3wXWBAns/XNLN01_OpoI/AAAAAAAAVY8/yFB3fmB5EiQmM6TSUco6-IB9lvpKJgFTQCLcBGAs/s320/59414405_10216080249573769_5439527195066236928_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Saturday, May 4, Commencement</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Although she dressed for the occasion, and Malachi was saving seats for the family, in the end Kristie chose not to attend the looooong ceremony, realizing that her walk across the stage was scheduled for much later. So, they settled for a photo shoot outside the university and then went out to eat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wItFcr58cPs/XNHVYgCy21I/AAAAAAAAVYU/D_0-D77iV0QiX3M8w7KP2_5gxXArjbqkwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Sam%2Bfam%2BKr%2BMA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="939" height="614" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wItFcr58cPs/XNHVYgCy21I/AAAAAAAAVYU/D_0-D77iV0QiX3M8w7KP2_5gxXArjbqkwCEwYBhgL/s640/Sam%2Bfam%2BKr%2BMA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Meanwhile, I was preparing a surprise party at their house. Text messages conveyed the change of plans. They delayed as long as possible. The friends arrived in a timely fashion and the celebration was a success.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sunday, May 5, Cornerstone's Spring Celebration</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Kayla teaches so many groups of dancers at Cornerstone for the Arts in Muncie that half of the dance performances were her classes. Rebecca was in three of them--ballet, tap, and hip hop jazz.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HYCcDCl5rU0/XNHZJ2kHRTI/AAAAAAAAVYw/rbxuIp03XNs6P4_hls3_T_KX0_MbUJXdwCEwYBhgL/s1600/dance%2Brecital%2B19%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1509" data-original-width="1322" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HYCcDCl5rU0/XNHZJ2kHRTI/AAAAAAAAVYw/rbxuIp03XNs6P4_hls3_T_KX0_MbUJXdwCEwYBhgL/s640/dance%2Brecital%2B19%2BCollage.jpg" width="560" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebecca watching the show with Daddy, posing as ballerina and superhero Owlette.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you want to see teacher Kayla in action from the front row, go <a href="https://www.facebook.com/leah.kochsower/videos/10156388571657934/?fref=search&amp;__tn__=%2Cd%2CP-R&amp;eid=ARC8Frb1OegGMakg7K0qwVbE_IPgcvr5qdRf1e2RoXxXRe6AnzDqzbA_V4vrQmUHIyL7TevD6rqdz50b">here</a>. Or from the sidelines:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_0nLdV-k76Q/XNLWaNwmlPI/AAAAAAAAVZI/qzpRTBaLBTEIDeoXouyG2NIvilmEu84PgCLcBGAs/s1600/59656315_10100761747929456_4827834826033725440_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1353" height="326" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_0nLdV-k76Q/XNLWaNwmlPI/AAAAAAAAVZI/qzpRTBaLBTEIDeoXouyG2NIvilmEu84PgCLcBGAs/s640/59656315_10100761747929456_4827834826033725440_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebecca, second from left.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Leah's whole gang was there--perfect opportunity for a family pic! There were a whole series of backgrounds painted for one of their events. These were the top family choices.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GL4a8rvicg/XNGSOiVJzXI/AAAAAAAAVX4/zwEqL3fFKfIaq9_Xfx5sEYsT0Br9z4-iQCEwYBhgL/s1600/59413432_10100761057213656_5119851215856861184_n%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="930" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GL4a8rvicg/XNGSOiVJzXI/AAAAAAAAVX4/zwEqL3fFKfIaq9_Xfx5sEYsT0Br9z4-iQCEwYBhgL/s400/59413432_10100761057213656_5119851215856861184_n%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="387" /></a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UHAOQSm576w/XNGSOoOqCHI/AAAAAAAAVX8/VQAYUL7xcag8UpGQSbjzAQT9UcZzXZx2QCEwYBhgL/s1600/59452958_10100761055227636_6309054254833205248_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="850" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UHAOQSm576w/XNGSOoOqCHI/AAAAAAAAVX8/VQAYUL7xcag8UpGQSbjzAQT9UcZzXZx2QCEwYBhgL/s400/59452958_10100761055227636_6309054254833205248_n.jpg" width="352" /></a></div><br />Do you have a favorite?<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/o-IcdzwNkCI" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> Love Those Layers http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23558 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:39259b6c-2fb0-a602-1ca9-114b2cd4ce2f Wed, 08 May 2019 07:50:46 -0400 Contrary to logic, as the weather warms, the plant world dons more layers. Bushes and shrubs wrap colorful scarves of leaves and blossoms around their shoulders. Trees drape bare branches with graceful green mantles. My lawn pads itself with a soft, thick layer of crabgrass. Young human beings, however, shun this idea. Passing our town’s [&#8230;] <p>Contrary to logic, as the weather warms, the plant world dons more layers. Bushes and shrubs wrap colorful scarves of leaves and blossoms around their shoulders. Trees drape bare branches with graceful green mantles. My lawn pads itself with a soft, thick layer of crabgrass.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layered-shrub-lilac-3988360_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23560" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layered-shrub-lilac-3988360_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layered-shrub-lilac-3988360_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layered-shrub-lilac-3988360_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layered-shrub-lilac-3988360_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>Young human beings, however, shun this idea. Passing our town’s grade school one chilly afternoon, I noticed most shivering kids walking home sported shorts and flip-flops. They looked bluer than Smurfs.</p> <p>At prom time, young women wearing strapless bodices and frozen smiles grace the spring landscape. A million goose bumps encase these lovelies like Bubble Wrap.</p> <p>If you’re a parent, you do not puzzle over this missing link between wardrobe and meteorological conditions. Weather has nothing to do with it. What’s really happening? Kids are exercising independence. We all do stupid things at that age so we can grow up to never make stupid decisions again.</p> <p>Still, as a perfect, mature being, I sympathize. My classmates and I suffered similar symptoms. We of the Dick-and-Jane generation wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing shorts and flip-flops to school. Still, our rebellious frenzy blasted black holes in that era’s proper universe.</p> <p>We wore sleeveless shirts to class.</p> <p>Abused classmates still wore sweaters Great-aunt Arlene gave them for Christmas. Obviously, they hadn’t exerted proper control over their parents.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-Great-aunt-sweater-3124635_1920-1024x682.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23561" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-Great-aunt-sweater-3124635_1920-1024x682.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-Great-aunt-sweater-3124635_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-Great-aunt-sweater-3124635_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-Great-aunt-sweater-3124635_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>I enjoyed wild, uninhibited freedom — until Mom made me wear a jacket.</p> <p>In fact, she and my teacher kept me in a catch-22.</p> <p><strong> Mom:</strong> This class sheet says you must dress for all weather possibilities. Wear your jacket.</p> <p><strong> Teacher:</strong> Your mother sent this jacket with you, so you have to wear it.</p> <p><strong> Me:</strong> Can’t I put off hot flashes for a few decades?</p> <p>We tortured children discarded outerwear as close to school dumpsters as we dared. We left jackets hanging in restroom stalls — or tried to flush them.</p> <p>But our sins always found us out. Traitors among us tattled. No doubt bribed with extra-long turns at the water fountain, these snitches displayed our jackets and sweaters before the entire class until someone identified the culprits. Never would have I participated in such betrayal.</p> <p>But when my children were growing up, I not only surrendered to the traitors — I joined their ranks.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-midwinter-waist-knitting-2225184_1280-1024x768.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23563" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-midwinter-waist-knitting-2225184_1280-1024x768.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-midwinter-waist-knitting-2225184_1280-300x225.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-midwinter-waist-knitting-2225184_1280-768x576.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-midwinter-waist-knitting-2225184_1280-624x468.jpg 624w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-midwinter-waist-knitting-2225184_1280.jpg 1280w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>Sweaters and jackets remain my friends to this day. They conceal my medical condition known as winter waist, characterized by mysterious swelling and extreme pain when buttoning last spring’s capris. Even when the sun shines, I cling to my compassionate buddies.</p> <p>Someday, the young will realize that, along with moms and teachers, layers can be their friends.</p> <p>And trees, who sport new cover-up wardrobes every spring, aren’t so dumb, after all.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layers-of-bloom-1839982_1920-1024x640.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23562" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layers-of-bloom-1839982_1920-1024x640.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layers-of-bloom-1839982_1920-300x188.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layers-of-bloom-1839982_1920-768x480.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190508-layers-of-bloom-1839982_1920-624x390.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p><strong>Your Extraordinary Ordinary:</strong> Do you love your layers, too?</p> OMG, It’s Monday! Prayer: I Wanna Go Outside! http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23494 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:701af845-a84b-34ba-d123-516e1e30619b Mon, 06 May 2019 08:35:29 -0400 Oh, my God, on a gorgeous May morning like this, please help students of all ages who don’t want to study. Lord, help us teachers, who want to play hooky even more. And OMG, please grant us another sunny day soon, when school’s out, when we can all go outside and play.  <ul class="wp-block-gallery columns-3 is-cropped"><li class="blocks-gallery-item"><figure><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190506-homework-1815899_640-1-3.jpg" alt="" data-id="23495" data-link="http://rachaelophillips.com/?attachment_id=23495" class="wp-image-23495" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190506-homework-1815899_640-1-3.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190506-homework-1815899_640-1-3-241x300.jpg 241w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" /></figure></li><li class="blocks-gallery-item"><figure><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190506-study-books-4118058_640-2.jpg" alt="" data-id="23497" data-link="http://rachaelophillips.com/?attachment_id=23497" class="wp-image-23497"/></figure></li><li class="blocks-gallery-item"><figure><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190506-the-teacher-3917155_640-1.jpg" alt="" data-id="23498" data-link="http://rachaelophillips.com/?attachment_id=23498" class="wp-image-23498"/></figure></li></ul> <p><strong>Oh, my God, on a gorgeous May morning like this, please help students of all ages who don’t want to study. Lord, help us teachers, who want to play hooky even more. And OMG, please grant us another sunny day soon, when school’s out, when we can all go outside and play.  </strong></p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/190506-water-fight-442257_640-1.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23499" width="409" height="345"/></figure></div> Face to Face with A Bible Character https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/04/face-to-face-with-a-bible-character/ Jody's Musings urn:uuid:d44539ac-daf5-c504-295e-7383c5e5f0e5 Sat, 04 May 2019 07:39:53 -0400 Lately, I have been having a difference of opinion with ants. With the advent of spring, they seem to think it is their turn to live in my room. I have been discouraging this notion with counseling, warnings, and the gentle application of a blowtorch. Ants are not a new problem for me. On the &#8230; <a href="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/04/face-to-face-with-a-bible-character/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Face to Face with A Bible&#160;Character</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="1181" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/04/face-to-face-with-a-bible-character/macro-3429626_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=498&#038;h=364" data-orig-size="640,468" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;8&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;ILCE-7RM2&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;65&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;100&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.005&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="macro-3429626_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=498&#038;h=364?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=498&#038;h=364?w=640" class=" wp-image-1181 aligncenter" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=498&#038;h=364" alt="macro-3429626_640" width="498" height="364" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=498&amp;h=364 498w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=110 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=219 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/macro-3429626_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 498px) 100vw, 498px" /></p> <p>Lately, I have been having a difference of opinion with ants. With the advent of spring, they seem to think it is their turn to live in my room. I have been discouraging this notion with counseling, warnings, and the gentle application of a blowtorch.</p> <p>Ants are not a new problem for me. On the contrary, Brazil is a hotbed of ant activity. While there, this transplanted Oregonian learned that ants are not small delicate creatures.</p> <p>Three ants made the biggest impact.</p> <p><b></b>Ant number one destroyed all my preconceived notions of the size an ant could be. The creature measured at least two or three inches long.  One could observe them and contemplate the verses in the Bible about working ants without straining one&#8217;s eyes, since they <em>were</em> large enough to be seen from a helicopter.</p> <p>The second ant, which made a biting impression, was the fire ant.  These nasty little things were small, shiny, and homicidal. <img data-attachment-id="1180" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/04/face-to-face-with-a-bible-character/fire-ants-2783019_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=249&#038;h=374" data-orig-size="426,640" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;1.8&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;LG-H860&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;4.42&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;50&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.0049&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="fire-ants-2783019_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=249&#038;h=374?w=200" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=249&#038;h=374?w=426" class=" wp-image-1180 alignright" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=249&#038;h=374" alt="fire-ants-2783019_640" width="249" height="374" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=249&amp;h=374 249w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=100&amp;h=150 100w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg?w=200&amp;h=300 200w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/fire-ants-2783019_640.jpg 426w" sizes="(max-width: 249px) 100vw, 249px" /></p> <p>If you accidentally stepped into the midst of a swarm of fire ants, you quickly became aware of your mistake.  This happened quite often since fire ants were everywhere, doing who knows what, while they waited for unsuspecting humans to fall into their trap.   I often imagined the little ant general insanely yelling for his troops to attack and bring down the giant.  They followed his lead with gusto and the ensuing pain sent us running for the nearest water faucet to wash them off and cool the burning bites.</p> <p>I have never been the type to kill a bug with my finger, but in the absence of a faucet I would grab the nasty insects off me and roll them into tiny squished balls.  Take that you nasty ant general!</p> <p>The last ant to make my top three is the invader ant.</p> <p>Invader ants, like their brethren I am currently battling, do not conform to the most basic of the rules laid down for ants. Mainly, that the house is for humans.</p> <p>For reasons known only to their tiny insectoid minds, these ants would take it upon themselves to invade our porch, or a corner of our house, or our whole house.  Friends told us to welcome the invasion because the ants would carry away any other unwanted guests with them such as spiders or centipedes.</p> <p>We weren’t too keen on having our house invaded, even if their tiny antish brains thought they were doing us a favor.  I’m sorry, but there is something about the thought of ants cutting a swath through my bed while I’m in it that cures me of seeing anything altruistic in their invasion. I can only be grateful that the ants I battle now prefer to send a few scouts rather than a full scale invasion.</p> <p>The Bible commends these creatures.</p> <p><span id="verse-17276" class="verse">“Four things on earth are small,</span><br /> <span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks">    </span><span class="verse">yet they are extremely wise:</span></span><br /> <span id="verse-17277" class="verse"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>Ants are creatures of little strength,</span><br /> <span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks">    </span><span class="verse">yet they store up their food in the summer;</span></span><br /> <span id="verse-17278" class="verse"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>hyraxes are creatures of little power,</span><br /> <span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks">    </span><span class="verse">yet they make their home in the crags;</span></span><br /> <span id="verse-17279" class="verse"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>locusts have no king,</span><br /> <span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks">    </span><span class="verse">yet they advance together in ranks;</span></span><br /> <span id="verse-17280" class="verse"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>a lizard can be caught with the hand,</span><br /> <span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks">    </span><span class="verse">yet it is found in kings’ palaces.&#8221;</span></span></p> <p>And while I take their example to heart, I much prefer to avoid contemplating their industrious attitude face to face in my bedroom. <img data-attachment-id="1182" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/05/04/face-to-face-with-a-bible-character/stack-2129070_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg?w=665" data-orig-size="640,429" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="stack-2129070_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg?w=665?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg?w=665?w=640" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-1182" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg?w=665" alt="stack-2129070_640" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg 640w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg?w=150 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/stack-2129070_640.jpg?w=300 300w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px" /></p> <p>Are you an ant fan?</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> a late poem… for my Knight/Charioteer https://angieknight.wordpress.com/2019/05/03/a-late-poem-for-my-knight-charioteer/ Invisible Issues urn:uuid:a0e6e78d-8319-3c81-55ac-00754c343e50 Fri, 03 May 2019 11:27:14 -0400 My Knight (tacking on even though National Poetry Month has passed) By Angela Knight A “knight in shining armor” is who the stories say will ride atop a charging steed to chase my fears away. But what if his armor loses shine, is dented on its ride, if he slips from his mount as it &#8230; <a href="https://angieknight.wordpress.com/2019/05/03/a-late-poem-for-my-knight-charioteer/" class="more-link">Continue reading<span class="screen-reader-text"> "a late poem&#8230; for my Knight/Charioteer"</span></a> Side Project: Mint Tin Tin http://www.freelanceknight.com/side-project-mint-tin-tin/ Freelance Knight urn:uuid:61467eba-6df8-4033-75f2-0ab5f1870c56 Fri, 03 May 2019 05:30:51 -0400 <p>I have been a huge fan of the Mint Tin games by subQuark Games since I stumbled upon the very first two on Kickstarter: Mint Tin Pirates and Mint Tin Aliens. I was intrigued by their tiny, portable size and&#8230; </p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com/side-project-mint-tin-tin/">Side Project: Mint Tin Tin</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com">Freelance Knight</a>.</p> Tips for Planning your UK Vacation, Part 2 https://janwallacereber.com/2019/05/tips-for-planning-your-uk-vacation-part-2.html urn:uuid:ff2ab121-87fd-1db8-ad9d-d052b33498e4 Wed, 01 May 2019 14:03:41 -0400 In my previous post, I discussed making arrangements for travel to the UK and pointed out several reasons why I prefer to make my own reservations rather than booking through a travel agent or with a pre-planned group excursion. In this post, I will share my thoughts on how to make those reservations and list&#8230;<a href="https://janwallacereber.com/2019/05/tips-for-planning-your-uk-vacation-part-2.html" class="button">Read more <span class="screen-reader-text">Tips for Planning your UK Vacation, Part 2</span></a> <p>In my previous post, I discussed making arrangements for travel to the UK and pointed out several reasons why I prefer to make my own reservations rather than booking through a travel agent or with a pre-planned group excursion. In this post, I will share my thoughts on how to make those reservations and list a few things to watch out for.</p> <p>First of all, let me remind you that I am not a travel agent nor travel writer. Nor do I get paid to expound on the virtues of any particular booking company, airline or other entity. I am simply someone who loves to travel, and especially when that travel is to the United Kingdom and Ireland. For those of you who aren’t certain what is meant by Great Britain vs United Kingdom vs British Isles, or just how Ireland fits in, here is a great little Venn diagram to explain it. </p> <p class="has-text-color has-very-dark-gray-color">Venn Diagram Map created by Anna Debenham <strong>(https://brilliantmaps.com/eng-gb-uk/)</strong></p> <figure class="wp-block-image is-resized"><img src="https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/venndiagram.gif" alt="" class="wp-image-236" width="257" height="248"/></figure> <p>Now that you understand where I like to travel, let’s talk about how I make my plans. </p> <p class="has-text-color has-very-dark-gray-color">I have found <em>Booking.com</em> to be invaluable, because&#8230;</p> <ol><li>I get what I consider to be very good rates</li><li>there are hundreds (even thousands, depending on your destination) of listings </li><li>the site gives accurate user reviews of listed properties based on several criteria:&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <ol><li>staff</li></ol><ol><li>facilities</li></ol><ol><li>cleanliness</li></ol><ol><li>comfort </li></ol><ol><li>value</li></ol><ol><li>location</li></ol><ol><li>wifi</li></ol></li></ol> <ul><li>and (for most properties) you can reserve now and pay later, in case your plans change. </li></ul> <p>Additionally, the Booking.com site lists property-specific information about facilities, distance to public transportation and airports, distance to major attractions, local restaurants/pubs/shopping, parking options, languages spoken by staff and direct contact information including phone numbers, which can be invaluable if you are in-country and face a delay.</p> <p>When choosing a property, items c, e and f above (cleanliness, value and location) are my first priorities, and I know in advance what level of cleanliness I am willing to give up for value and location, and vice versa. Depending on where we are going, location may be more important than value, or less important than cost or cleanliness. Regardless, I always have my lower limit on cleanliness, and no amount of value and location can entice me to go below that point.</p> <p>Also very important to me are the comments of other people who have stayed at the property. I take most of those very seriously, though I sort of take over-the-top and bottom-of-the-barrel comments with a grain of salt. The general opinion matters much more than one ecstatic patron with no standards or one disgruntled patron who had a single hair in the tub (ok-maybe that is pretty icky). But I think you get my point.</p> <p class="has-text-color has-very-dark-gray-color">Keep in mind—<em>Booking.com</em> does not own any of the properties, and some properties have their own rules. <strong>Always</strong> be certain to read <em>all</em> of the specifics for each listing, as there are a few deviations from the norm, and <em>Booking.com</em> is very upfront about them. These specifics are typically found at the top of the listing under tabs labeled “House Rules” and “Fine Print.” You will want to read these details before you book. </p> <p>Having said that cautionary bit, I have used Booking.com to book lodgings in England, Ireland, Scotland, Rome, Paris and the United States – virtually every place I’ve stayed over the past 5 years &#8212; and I continue to use them. That says something about my past experience with this particular company.</p> <p>I have already pointed out that I do not get paid to promote <em>Booking.com.</em> That said, we can BOTH get a $25 reward if, in fact, you open an account (they are free) and use this link (https://www.booking.com/s/34_6/fce769fd) to book a stay!</p> <p>Here are links to some of the places we’ve stayed after booking through <em>Booking.com </em>in case you’d like to have a look! Our requirements were a good record of cleanliness, good location (determined by various requirements) and <em>not</em> a national or international chain hotel. Only once did we have to settle for a chain hotel, and it was a unique experience, but that’s another story.</p> <p>The Swan Inn (now Swan Inn and Backpackers Annex) was the first property I ever booked overseas and I used Booking.com. (<a href="https://www.booking.com/hotel/gb/the-backpackers-annex-at-the-swan-pub.html">https://www.booking.com/hotel/gb/the-backpackers-annex-at-the-swan-pub.html</a>). We stayed in what is now probably called the annex – a room above what was once the stable, and which might have once been the coachmens’ lodgings.</p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swan-inn.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-234" width="284" height="213" srcset="https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swan-inn.jpg 697w, https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swan-inn-300x225.jpg 300w, https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swan-inn-480x360.jpg 480w, https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swan-inn-333x250.jpg 333w" sizes="(max-width: 284px) 100vw, 284px" /><figcaption><strong>The Swan Inn</strong></figcaption></figure></div> <p></p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swaninn2-300x225.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-235" width="324" height="243" srcset="https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swaninn2-300x225.jpg 300w, https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swaninn2-480x360.jpg 480w, https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swaninn2-333x250.jpg 333w, https://janwallacereber.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/swaninn2.jpg 723w" sizes="(max-width: 324px) 100vw, 324px" /><figcaption><strong>The quiet neighborhood around the Swan Inn</strong></figcaption></figure></div> <p>The Inglewood Boutique B&amp;B in Chorley, England, is still one of our family favorites from all of our travels. Chorley is a charming little hamlet just off the M61 about midway between London and Glasgow. We used it as an overnight stopping point on our journey north from Oxford to Scotland, and were disappointed to have only one night there. The staff was amazing, the breakfast was first rate, and the accommodations were very clean and super comfy. (https://www.booking.com/hotel/gb/inglewood-boutique-b-b-with-self-catering.html)</p> Sunny Spring Day http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23219 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:08bf9315-5d4e-374e-46a4-b06207b2392f Wed, 01 May 2019 07:41:44 -0400 Do we really want a sunny, warm spring day? Duh. Yes! I crave a sunny spring day more than a tax refund equal to the lottery. More than an overnight belly fat loss. I do enjoy the changing seasons, including January and February — cozy months to enjoy a good book by the fire. Also, [&#8230;] <p>Do we really want a sunny, warm spring day?</p> <p>Duh. <em>Yes!</em> I crave a sunny spring day more than a tax refund equal to the lottery. More than an overnight belly fat loss.</p> <p>I do enjoy the changing seasons, including January and February — cozy months to enjoy a good book by the fire. Also, an excellent opportunity to thumb my nose at warm-weather friends who still must do yard work and jog.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-fluff-dandelion-4154942_1920-1024x681.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23222" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-fluff-dandelion-4154942_1920-1024x681.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-fluff-dandelion-4154942_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-fluff-dandelion-4154942_1920-768x511.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-fluff-dandelion-4154942_1920-624x415.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>Today, however, the sun peeks through my unwashed windows with na-na-na-boo-boo mischief. </p> <p><em>Come outside</em>. It lights up the green, green exterior like a marquee. It’s spring!</p> <p>Where’s your baseball, your bat? Dig out your old mitt, even if it smells more like feet than hands. When Dad comes home from work, maybe he’ll play flies and grounders with us in the backyard.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-bat-mitt-and-baseball-1354946_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23224" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-bat-mitt-and-baseball-1354946_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-bat-mitt-and-baseball-1354946_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-bat-mitt-and-baseball-1354946_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-bat-mitt-and-baseball-1354946_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>It’s a perfect hopscotch day. Chuck that project. Ditch that deadline. You own a whole driveway of limestone, a treasure chest of perfect rocks that could draw a thousand hopscotch grids on playground blacktop only a block away.</p> <p>The 1963 Taylorsville Elementary Hopscotch Champion in me trembles with anticipation. I might have to wear Spandex armor to keep my jiggly torso from smacking my knees with each hop, but must … play … hopscotch. …</p> <p>However, the Responsible Adult in me proclaims, “You haven’t washed these windows since you moved in.”</p> <p>True. Pristine sunbeams also touch our carpet and winter-dingy furniture as if they had cooties. Layers of dust comfortably camouflaged by dim winter days now scream for attention. They’re almost as needy as the lumpy, bumpy lawn outside, invaded by a crabgrass army. The sun leads me to our garden, covered with skeletons of brave, hopeless tomato vines.</p> <p>This year, a friend offered me free horse manure if I want to shovel and haul it. Do I feel <em>that</em> ambitious for future vegetables?</p> <p>Nope.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-american-robin-2126986_1920-1024x682.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23221" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-american-robin-2126986_1920-1024x682.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-american-robin-2126986_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-american-robin-2126986_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-american-robin-2126986_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p>Funny thing about sunlight — like its Creator, it gets nosy, peering into the grimy corners of my house, yard and life, seeing much more than I like. Instead of dissing me, though, the Sun Maker breathes a warm kiss of a breeze on my cheek and hands me the first flower of spring. So what, if it’s a dandelion?</p> <p>He’s sent ragged robins, looking like refugees, to greet me, too. But they just can’t help singing.</p> <p>Nor can I. Sure, our Maker will help me tackle the flaws in my home, yard and soul. But first, He, the sun, and I select the perfect rock from the driveway. We head for the playground and my first game of hopscotch in a long, long time.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-Hopscotch-shoes-feet-1998693_1920-1024x685.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23225" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-Hopscotch-shoes-feet-1998693_1920-1024x685.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-Hopscotch-shoes-feet-1998693_1920-300x201.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-Hopscotch-shoes-feet-1998693_1920-768x514.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190501-Hopscotch-shoes-feet-1998693_1920-624x418.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p><strong>Your Extraordinary Ordinary: </strong>What’s your favorite way to celebrate the first sunny, spring day?</p> 2019 FIRST World Competition-Detroit https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/04/only-few-of-these-beauties-were-left.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:36562170-8e3b-ec6d-624f-a1f1b41980cc Tue, 30 Apr 2019 17:38:42 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Only a few of these beauties were left when we got back from our days away at the FIRST World Championship in Detroit. My memoir writing moments were few as well. Yet the focus of this blog remains--memories and memorable moments. It is a record of memories that surfaced during the week, whether directly related to the period I am currently writing about, as well as the highlights to be remembered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qoj6h_ViFuw/XMicaeii0LI/AAAAAAAAVW4/zuRxo4LzB1sxpTsS060uj02-Z76ZUe7XACEwYBhgL/s1600/58543723_10100758168078506_3080763535861481472_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="528" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qoj6h_ViFuw/XMicaeii0LI/AAAAAAAAVW4/zuRxo4LzB1sxpTsS060uj02-Z76ZUe7XACEwYBhgL/s320/58543723_10100758168078506_3080763535861481472_n.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><br />Monday, April 22 was my uncle Dan's 101 birthday. Of the six hirschy siblings, only two remain.<br /><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Erzr9PDCUdE/XMhjDln6NII/AAAAAAAAVVQ/e45rRje-PvoIGOKosn8-41IhGKx7cPdTQCLcBGAs/s1600/Hirschy%2Bsiblings%2Band%2Bgrandma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="720" height="247" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Erzr9PDCUdE/XMhjDln6NII/AAAAAAAAVVQ/e45rRje-PvoIGOKosn8-41IhGKx7cPdTQCLcBGAs/s400/Hirschy%2Bsiblings%2Band%2Bgrandma.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phil, Grandma Hirschy, Mother, Dan</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My latino friends from our Doulos days and I have been following the visit of the newer ship, the Logos Hope, to the ports we remember fondly from forty years ago. Someone posted this old photo from 1981 in Buenos Aires. I couldn't find our family, most likely because we took time off to be with my parents and brothers who still lived in Argentina.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EIADXFyNwx8/XMhjA0NjuZI/AAAAAAAAVVw/YyoibGYepCUXYWOhZzg5NmMAbyw-eIyhACEwYBhgL/s1600/17190819_1352485608142534_9167847852031988757_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="875" height="462" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EIADXFyNwx8/XMhjA0NjuZI/AAAAAAAAVVw/YyoibGYepCUXYWOhZzg5NmMAbyw-eIyhACEwYBhgL/s640/17190819_1352485608142534_9167847852031988757_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A drone view of our old home appeared on facebook today--<a href="https://www.facebook.com/seno.adi.22/videos/597287810698519/">Doulos Phos Anchor Isle</a>, now a resort and museum.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>April 24 was&nbsp;<a href="https://pjmedia.com/faith/armenian-genocide-remembrance-day-revisiting-islams-greatest-slaughter-of-christians/?fbclid=IwAR1lhznWTfYr8u5lgUqJjfIEtiVc_ID_JolbLsmZlKwrkK6JdtMI-9ZqrIU">Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day</a>. Last week I wrote about Michael and Bob Craton's experience one memorable Resurrection Sunday in Eastern Turkey and the stories they heard about that event in history.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LE-NOZEgOJU/XMhlz52XnGI/AAAAAAAAVV8/xyrBTKRnKccnGkkQTXl4GI-lo0g-MCbSQCLcBGAs/s1600/Marcharmenians.sized-770x415xc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="755" height="346" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LE-NOZEgOJU/XMhlz52XnGI/AAAAAAAAVV8/xyrBTKRnKccnGkkQTXl4GI-lo0g-MCbSQCLcBGAs/s640/Marcharmenians.sized-770x415xc.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><a href="https://www.thestarpress.com/story/news/local/2019/04/25/phyxtgears-headed-nationals-after-big-season/3549440002/?fbclid=IwAR2dWBYFEiS8XoDqxIQdUPZ4gz7tCu-36LlTtqieMZXirPsxqybF-UmR4Mg">PhyXTGears headed to nationals after big season</a><br />Wednesday we left very early for Detroit. Michael always drives the team trailer to competitions. Our friend Donna Banker met us in the long line of team vehicles waiting for their turn to unload. She took me to the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.cobocenter.com/">COBO Center Detroit</a>&nbsp;where I picked up all the name badges for the team.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tUhCtXWbz2Q/XMho3_UBgvI/AAAAAAAAVWI/2SD7Nl6EUeYa7wSGYJEm1kvbAuMaujfLQCLcBGAs/s1600/marqueeweb1-1-90296d7983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="620" height="241" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tUhCtXWbz2Q/XMho3_UBgvI/AAAAAAAAVWI/2SD7Nl6EUeYa7wSGYJEm1kvbAuMaujfLQCLcBGAs/s400/marqueeweb1-1-90296d7983.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br />After delivering them to Michael, we took off for some time together. She took me on a lovely drive along the shore to a lovely eatery, the Nautical Deli.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aJeNuXeWqNk/XMhjCnyL4WI/AAAAAAAAVVk/eGI0EWgUoYgSpD43igk3LwpoKyKnWQKzwCEwYBhgL/s1600/58666035_10100757338725536_2030874366790598656_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aJeNuXeWqNk/XMhjCnyL4WI/AAAAAAAAVVk/eGI0EWgUoYgSpD43igk3LwpoKyKnWQKzwCEwYBhgL/s400/58666035_10100757338725536_2030874366790598656_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />We had a lovely time together before she drove me back into Detroit to the church that hosted the team for four days. Donna was very brave to deal with the complexities of city traffic and very generous to travel 30 or 40 minutes both ways to spend that time with me. Last night she wrote from the hospital asking for prayer-- what she thought was heartburn turned out to be A-fib, so we are praying for her.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-epC-MPJzBTs/XMhjBN1QlAI/AAAAAAAAVV0/3kClr4s74pUjKgicFYYO5gEFJUwkjfyxQCEwYBhgL/s1600/58594734_10100757337517956_8669580512781664256_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="788" height="267" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-epC-MPJzBTs/XMhjBN1QlAI/AAAAAAAAVV0/3kClr4s74pUjKgicFYYO5gEFJUwkjfyxQCEwYBhgL/s400/58594734_10100757337517956_8669580512781664256_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was in time to meet the team and proceed with them to the People Mover station. We used public transportation the whole time we were there to go back and forth to COBO, to the showers at the YMCA, to the Rennassaince Center for evening meals and other events.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I like newspapers, even the 19th century bronze one at the station.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CAAaACXglBY/XMhpR3U5MLI/AAAAAAAAVWQ/f69_TZeDQqcGiJoq-v7WAwPBLHDJG-stwCLcBGAs/s1600/59229841_10100757339384216_9093764818808078336_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="514" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CAAaACXglBY/XMhpR3U5MLI/AAAAAAAAVWQ/f69_TZeDQqcGiJoq-v7WAwPBLHDJG-stwCLcBGAs/s400/59229841_10100757339384216_9093764818808078336_n.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><br />The two days of qualifying matches were spent in the stands cheering for our team, . . .<br /><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9HKea0xmmQ8/XMhjC_-dVpI/AAAAAAAAVVo/OGpC89fOxN4-02FpfqeLjXErH7utpBByACEwYBhgL/s1600/59178086_10100757336839316_3465190381895811072_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9HKea0xmmQ8/XMhjC_-dVpI/AAAAAAAAVVo/OGpC89fOxN4-02FpfqeLjXErH7utpBByACEwYBhgL/s640/59178086_10100757336839316_3465190381895811072_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team 1720 drive team at their station, lower left.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">. . . or in the PhyXTGears pit checking/fixing the robot--Space Walrus, . . .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YobjnLDgots/XMhjB00aR2I/AAAAAAAAVVo/fsUYEEkD9wMRRKLFbcCzSVHvyUUqwwjSwCEwYBhgL/s1600/58649497_10100756310790526_3995046194962235392_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1440" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YobjnLDgots/XMhjB00aR2I/AAAAAAAAVVo/fsUYEEkD9wMRRKLFbcCzSVHvyUUqwwjSwCEwYBhgL/s640/58649497_10100756310790526_3995046194962235392_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">. . . or walking around the ginormous convention center checking out different areas such as the Innovation Center exhibits, the FLL pits (FIRST Lego League) from so many different countries, various workshops, and more. I earned my first Urban Boot Badge--a Fitbit award for steps achieved! One day alone I got in 19,639 steps! Ha!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On one of those walks with Michael we saw this jet engine which triggered a memory from when he was in college at John Brown University. There happened to be a jet engine down the hill from the campus. His roommate Jack Roberts was running for student body president and they decided on the theme: Jet away with Jack! Six guys attempted to move the enormous engine up to campus and failed. That night, around 1:30 a.m.,&nbsp; Michael and one other guy, only two of them, figured out a way. Leveraging it onto skids, they dragged the engine up the hill with a truck. The skids suffered the most, worn down to 1" thickness. He can't remember whether Jack won or not. Ha!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9YVNrKC9b18/XMhjEHUsu9I/AAAAAAAAVVw/yZjjNoK6RL4WpZjb3lEFlIOdM_LviXcsgCEwYBhgL/s1600/JBU%2BMEMORY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9YVNrKC9b18/XMhjEHUsu9I/AAAAAAAAVVw/yZjjNoK6RL4WpZjb3lEFlIOdM_LviXcsgCEwYBhgL/s640/JBU%2BMEMORY.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think grandson Elijah (14) enjoyed t/his FIRST event--407 teams from 70 countries playing on six different fields or subdivisions; thousands of people, lots of noise; a whole lot to experience.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2cKK2ofBZT4/XMhp6YnOTgI/AAAAAAAAVWY/jdW-rOTgbrUYZQZDWp4z45h-cdMCOE6wwCLcBGAs/s1600/58616554_10100757336859276_1987723715130949632_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="528" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2cKK2ofBZT4/XMhp6YnOTgI/AAAAAAAAVWY/jdW-rOTgbrUYZQZDWp4z45h-cdMCOE6wwCLcBGAs/s400/58616554_10100757336859276_1987723715130949632_n.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Friday evening FIRST arranged for an entertainment option--opening night of The Avengers! There was another option--Robo Prom. Four of our students chose that, and we went as chaperones! Ha!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Kaylee is our only senior on the team.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><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://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3oSh76eWxh0/XMhjBGyKarI/AAAAAAAAVVg/5yAf6Ti39lgyVUxkzmVRhIKlNNv_VRKTwCEwYBhgL/s1600/20190426_184535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1308" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3oSh76eWxh0/XMhjBGyKarI/AAAAAAAAVVg/5yAf6Ti39lgyVUxkzmVRhIKlNNv_VRKTwCEwYBhgL/s320/20190426_184535.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two seniors ;-)</td></tr></tbody></table>We have a younger group this year, a great bunch of kids.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's great to follow the alums of the program. We met up with one young man who now helps out with another robotics team while he is a student at Purdue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NqeYR9zCcKQ/XMhrczLYr1I/AAAAAAAAVWs/Me1PXFmBlYw7klZ_971_DfeMOVT3VhbpACEwYBhgL/s1600/58831603_10100757337078836_6927500837895798784_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="960" height="312" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NqeYR9zCcKQ/XMhrczLYr1I/AAAAAAAAVWs/Me1PXFmBlYw7klZ_971_DfeMOVT3VhbpACEwYBhgL/s400/58831603_10100757337078836_6927500837895798784_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garret and his mom</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">His team was in a different subdivision. Surprisingly, though they were ranked 13th, they did not get picked in alliance selection. Hard to believe that it was the end for them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the other hand, Team 1720 ended up 23 out of 68 and was picked as the fourth or alternate team by Alliance # 2. Competition was tight, defense was <i>brutal </i>and we lost by two points in a rubber match.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Np86eXGLYw/XMhjFoy3ZhI/AAAAAAAAVV0/Y84OwKBtp4cYqJz8zEcVHOQL-HicfVyOQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Last%2Balliance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Np86eXGLYw/XMhjFoy3ZhI/AAAAAAAAVV0/Y84OwKBtp4cYqJz8zEcVHOQL-HicfVyOQCEwYBhgL/s640/Last%2Balliance.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Archimedes Alliance #2</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Interestingly, the alliance that beat us ended up losing to the champions by one point!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, why do we do this? I think the following poster says it all.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X8vJI3rWOxk/XMi_hwxmVII/AAAAAAAAVXM/CcQZiG3HhgAo7ipXnDyeoIre-PHQ676RQCLcBGAs/s1600/58679374_10100758238053276_3337723642405453824_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="1090" height="295" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X8vJI3rWOxk/XMi_hwxmVII/AAAAAAAAVXM/CcQZiG3HhgAo7ipXnDyeoIre-PHQ676RQCLcBGAs/s400/58679374_10100758238053276_3337723642405453824_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/vle_mUVugRU" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> OMG, It’s Monday! Prayer: Where Am I? http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23263 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:49640314-fb95-a942-486f-a9060770ee8f Mon, 29 Apr 2019 08:41:19 -0400 Oh, my God, You know I have a talent for getting lost in airports, parking lots, hotels, and breakfast areas. (Where did they hide the coffee? Oh. The same place as yesterday.) OMG, I’m so thankful You always know where I am, even if I don’t. <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/airport-1515448_640-2.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23264" width="484" height="322"/></figure></div> <p><strong>Oh, my God, You know I have a talent for getting lost in airports, parking lots, hotels, and breakfast areas. (Where did they hide the coffee? Oh. The same place as yesterday.) OMG, I’m so thankful You always know where I am, even if I don’t.</strong></p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190429-coffee-morning-819362_640.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23265" width="492" height="368"/></figure></div> Early-bird https://onflesherpond.com/2019/04/29/early-bird/ On Flesher Pond urn:uuid:3b0bc736-63fc-b1dd-196b-123e5f954a04 Mon, 29 Apr 2019 07:05:59 -0400 I wrote last week about going to bed with the chickens. Every day of my life I have sighed with profound pleasure when my head hits the pillow. Especially as a child I put my head heavily on the supper table and thought, Please, oh please, like the little Lord Jesus, let me lay down &#8230; <a href="https://onflesherpond.com/2019/04/29/early-bird/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Early-bird</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a> <p>I wrote last week about going to bed with the chickens. Every day of my life I have sighed with profound pleasure when my head hits the pillow. Especially as a child I put my head heavily on the supper table and thought, <em>Please, oh please, like the little Lord Jesus, let me lay down my sweet head and go to bed.</em> </p> <p>Birdsong at dawn is a hallelujah chorus. I can’t wait to get up – <em>Let’s do chores! </em>– and usually have a great idea to tell Sam. He is a polite man, too be sure, and tries to listen, but he really doesn’t want to speak until he’s had two cups of coffee. Any chores for him couldn’t be attempted until say, 11:00. </p> <p>According to the internet, about 10% of us are early birds. I suppose the world needs more night-owls for all those after-dark events – noisy restaurants, noisy bars, glaring lights. I do not go out at night. The obnoxious street-lamp on the utility pole burned out a year ago and I asked Sam <em>not</em> to fix it. “If I ever <em>am</em> up at night, at least I can see more stars when the yard is dark.” </p> <p>The last day of January I took a nap because I wanted to see the super blood moon lunar eclipse after midnight. It was bitter, below zero. I almost didn’t get up with the alarm, but decided it was worth it. Sam tossed back the covers, too. We stood out on the boardwalk in our slippers, with coats and hoods. The red disk looked other-worldly. He said, “I’ve never seen this before. Thanks for getting us up.” </p> <p>Then I had a bright idea. “Let’s go upstairs to the south window. We can see it from inside.” I opened the window, stuck my head out, and leaned to get the right angle to see through the bare trees. Sam gripped my arm just in case. Then I held onto Sam while he took a turn. Satisfied, we hurriedly closed the window and slipped back under the warm covers. </p> <p>A few weeks later, I woke in the middle of the night and noticed the sparkling stars. The next morning, I asked Sam, “I didn’t see that one star that I have seen before.” </p> <p>He smiled at me, held up his index finger and went to get his old star-gazing chart hanging by the front door. He put on his professor’s hat and explained, “See the months around the edge of the circle? Now move the wheel to today’s date and time. The right hand of the star map shows what will appear in the east.” </p> <p>“Wow. I’ve never looked at this. The stars move? How did I never know?”</p> <p>“You had other things to think about,” he said kindly. </p> <p>I felt pretty sheepish. “For heaven’s sake, don’t tell John (our friend and retired history teacher who knows pretty much everything). He’ll choke on his coffee.”</p> <p>Anyway, early birds (10%). I’m also left-handed (10%), and an innate Type-A neatnik competitive, impatient introvert. Now what do you suppose the percentage is of people with all three? Does that make Sam a really lucky guy?</p> Normal for Me http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/04/26/normal-for-me/ PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author urn:uuid:3f8c335f-6b35-7291-e4fa-6077c9b2587a Fri, 26 Apr 2019 06:24:50 -0400 <p>The following is an excerpt from Tamara Anderson’s new book, Normal for Me. Get a FREE copy of this book during the month of April at tamarakanderson.com. The paperback copy is also available on Amazon. Have you ever had a regular day that morphed into a terrible, soul-wrenching day capped off with a life-changing moment? [&#8230;]</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/04/26/normal-for-me/">Normal for Me</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> <p><strong>The following is an excerpt from Tamara Anderson’s new book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Normal-Me-Learning-Accept-Detours/dp/173214690X/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Normal+for+Me&amp;qid=1556245041&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-1"><em>Normal for Me</em>.</a> Get a FREE copy of this book during the month of April at tamarakanderson.com. The <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Normal-Me-Learning-Accept-Detours/dp/173214690X/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Normal+for+Me&amp;qid=1556245041&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-1">paperback copy is also available on Amazon</a>.</strong></p> <p>Have you ever had a regular day that morphed into a terrible, soul-wrenching day capped off with a life-changing moment?</p> <p>For me, it began on a beautiful spring day in Arkansas. After dinner, I glanced out the window and saw families walking down the street enjoying the end of a gorgeous day.</p> <p>My husband, Justin, and I decided to take the children on a walk. Getting the kids ready to go anywhere was like herding grasshoppers. Jordan was the leader of the pack at age seven and the only one of my four children who could verbally communicate with us at the time. We asked him to get his shoes . . . and if he didn’t get distracted, he might just come back with them without too many prompts.</p> <p>Nathan, age six, was our stealth bomber. Quiet and sneaky, he preferred streaking through the house with as little clothing as possible. Going anywhere with him usually required some redressing.</p> <p>We called Jacob, age two and half, our escape artist. He climbed anything he shouldn’t and got into everything. In the perspective of an old fable, Nathan would be our tortoise, and Jacob our hare—so wickedly fast, it’s a chore to catch him.</p> <p>Still at the carry stage, Noelle, our baby girl was easy. No chasing required. Just plop her into one half of the double stroller, buckle her in, and she was good to go. Jacob got the seat of honor in the other side of the stroller, so we don’t have to run after him every five seconds.</p> <p>Thirty minutes after deciding to take a walk, we exited the front door to breathe in the beautiful spring evening.</p> <p>Our calm, successful excursion lasted less than five minutes. Half way down the street Nathan began a huge tantrum. He did the “leg drop” kids do when you’re holding their hand, forcing you to either drag or carry them. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he brought chaos to the quiet evening. No words . . . just crying. He didn’t want to go on a walk and nothing we could do or say could convince him otherwise. We even tried bribery, but it is hard when your words don’t penetrate into understanding.</p> <p>My husband scooped up Nathan and took him home, and I dutifully finished the walk with the other three children. As the sun set, my heart sank with it. By the time I returned home, I felt overwhelmed and flooded with despair.</p> <p>Once I had the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bonding-Your-Child-through-Boundaries/dp/1433543346/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2IR6GP3WMC3Y8&amp;keywords=bonding+with+your+child+through+boundaries&amp;qid=1556245241&amp;s=books&amp;sprefix=Bonding+With+%2Cstripbooks%2C157&amp;sr=1-1-catcorr">children settled for the night</a>, I fell on my knees, my heart aching. Questions spilled from my anguished, weeping soul. <em>Why do we have two children with autism?</em> <em>Wasn’t one enough?</em> <em>Why is life so hard?</em> <em>Why can’t we just go on walks like a normal family?</em> <a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/02/12/the-wholesome-power-of-laughter/"><em>Why can’t we be a normal family?</em></a></p> <p>Somewhere amidst my blubbering came a firm, yet kind answer. God simply whispered, “Tamara, this <em>is</em> normal for you.”</p> <p>This simple truth resounded over and over within me.</p> <p>The more I thought about it, I realized I had never known normal as other families experience it. I have two typically-developing children, and two little boys blessed, and challenged, with autism. That is my normal—what God gave me to <a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/02/12/the-wholesome-power-of-laughter/">love and cherish</a>.</p> <p>Once I saw myself in that light, asking those <em>why</em> questions I’d been so intensely anguished over became ludicrous. I had fallen into the unhappy trap of comparing <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bonding-Your-Child-through-Boundaries/dp/1433543346/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2IR6GP3WMC3Y8&amp;keywords=bonding+with+your+child+through+boundaries&amp;qid=1556245241&amp;s=books&amp;sprefix=Bonding+With+%2Cstripbooks%2C157&amp;sr=1-1-catcorr">my family, my children, and my life</a> to others. I needed to free myself from comparisons and <a href="https://tamarakanderson.com/trailer-for-stories-of-hope-in-hard-times/">embrace the gifts I’d been given</a>. <em>Tamara, </em>this is<em> your life! </em>These are<em> the challenges you have been given.</em></p> <p>My <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Normal-Me-Learning-Accept-Detours/dp/173214690X/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Normal+for+Me&amp;qid=1556245041&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-1"><em>Normal for Me</em> </a>experience on my knees that spring evening many years ago helped me realize, “Yes! You <em>are</em> different. Get on with your life, and quit complaining.” We each have physical and mental or emotional differences. Let’s be kind to one another and cling to God as we trudge through obstacles.</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p><a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Screen-Shot-2019-04-11-at-9.28.37-AM-1.png"><img class="size-thumbnail wp-image-7479 alignleft" src="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Screen-Shot-2019-04-11-at-9.28.37-AM-1-150x150.png" alt="" width="150" height="150" srcset="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Screen-Shot-2019-04-11-at-9.28.37-AM-1-150x150.png 150w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Screen-Shot-2019-04-11-at-9.28.37-AM-1-66x66.png 66w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Screen-Shot-2019-04-11-at-9.28.37-AM-1-100x100.png 100w" sizes="(max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px" /></a></p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>Tamara Anderson enjoys reading stories with happy endings, podcasting, and dates with her husband. The mother of three boys  – two of which are on the autism spectrum – and one girl, Tamara is the author of <em><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Normal-Me-Learning-Accept-Detours/dp/173214690X/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Normal+for+Me&amp;qid=1556245041&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-1">Normal for Me</a>,</em> and podcaster of <em><a href="https://tamarakanderson.com/trailer-for-stories-of-hope-in-hard-times/">Stories of Hope in Hard Times</a>.</em></p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p><a href="https://tamarakanderson.com/">https://tamarakanderson.com/</a></p> <p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/tamarakanderson/">https://www.facebook.com/tamarakanderson/</a></p> <p><a href="https://www.instagram.com/tamarakanderson/">https://www.instagram.com/tamarakanderson/</a></p> <p><a href="https://twitter.com/tamarakanderson">https://twitter.com/tamarakanderson</a></p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/04/26/normal-for-me/">Normal for Me</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> On My Shelf: Of Dice And Men http://www.freelanceknight.com/on-my-shelf-of-dice-and-men/ Freelance Knight urn:uuid:4930efbc-2b0f-71e7-971e-695381cb5bdb Fri, 26 Apr 2019 05:30:29 -0400 <p>Recently on a trip to Half Price Books, I found an older tabletop RPG-related book, Of Dice And Men by David M. Ewalt. In&#160;Of Dice and Men,&#160;David Ewalt describes the development of Dungeons &#38; Dragons from the game’s origins on&#8230; </p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com/on-my-shelf-of-dice-and-men/">On My Shelf: Of Dice And Men</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com">Freelance Knight</a>.</p> Tiger Stripes and Other Random Stuff https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/tiger-stripes-and-other-random-stuff/ Jody's Musings urn:uuid:313d291f-461b-044a-e879-99fdc04a4633 Thu, 25 Apr 2019 16:43:00 -0400 Freelance writing is never boring. I have learned many things completing jobs for clients. Knowing about real estate investments in Australia might not seem useful, but it could be. If I&#8217;m ever trapped on an elevator I can say, &#8220;How about those investment opportunities in Sydney?&#8221; rather than asking about the Yankees. I might receive &#8230; <a href="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/tiger-stripes-and-other-random-stuff/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Tiger Stripes and Other Random&#160;Stuff</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="1173" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/tiger-stripes-and-other-random-stuff/button-1280240_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=380&#038;h=380" data-orig-size="640,640" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="button-1280240_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=380&#038;h=380?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=380&#038;h=380?w=640" class=" wp-image-1173 aligncenter" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=380&#038;h=380" alt="button-1280240_640" width="380" height="380" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=380&amp;h=380 380w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=150 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=300 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/button-1280240_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 380px) 100vw, 380px" /></p> <p>Freelance writing is never boring. I have learned many things completing jobs for clients. Knowing about real estate investments in Australia might not seem useful, but it could be. If I&#8217;m ever trapped on an elevator I can say, &#8220;How about those investment opportunities in Sydney?&#8221; rather than asking about the Yankees.</p> <p>I might receive some strange looks, but I don&#8217;t follow sports.</p> <p><img data-attachment-id="1172" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/tiger-stripes-and-other-random-stuff/animal-2923186_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=250&#038;h=239" data-orig-size="640,613" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;4&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;Canon PowerShot SX710 HS&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;5.88&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;160&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.033333333333333&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="animal-2923186_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=250&#038;h=239?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=250&#038;h=239?w=640" class=" wp-image-1172 alignleft" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=250&#038;h=239" alt="animal-2923186_640" width="250" height="239" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=250&amp;h=239 250w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=500&amp;h=478 500w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=144 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/animal-2923186_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=287 300w" sizes="(max-width: 250px) 100vw, 250px" />One of the more interesting subjects I recently wrote about was tigers. I learned that every tiger&#8217;s stripes are as unique as fingerprints and are visible on their skin. My favorite fact is that tigers are true gentlemen. Whereas male lions will fight off the women and children to be first at the, um, dinner table, tigers will allow the women and children to eat first. Since I have a weak stomach, I tend to block out the picture of the food on this imaginary dining room table and focus on the gentlemen tigers in their striped fur coats.</p> <p>Speaking of dinner, I researched dangerous Chinese foods and discovered there is a region in China where pufferfish is popular. Since failing to prepare a fish correctly will kill the diners, guests were asked to hand over a coin before sitting down to eat. If the guest died, they had &#8220;bought&#8221; the fish, and their host would be absolved of culpability in their death.<img data-attachment-id="1174" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/tiger-stripes-and-other-random-stuff/puffer-36006_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=277&#038;h=227" data-orig-size="640,525" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="puffer-36006_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=277&#038;h=227?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=277&#038;h=227?w=640" class=" wp-image-1174 alignright" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=277&#038;h=227" alt="puffer-36006_640" width="277" height="227" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=277&amp;h=227 277w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=554&amp;h=454 554w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=150&amp;h=123 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/puffer-36006_640.png?w=300&amp;h=246 300w" sizes="(max-width: 277px) 100vw, 277px" /></p> <p>While the jobs are often interesting, perhaps the most fun experiences are the jobs I have opted not to take. Multiples requests for entire books. This might be a dream come true &#8212; only the clients want all the rights to and credit for the perfect book one writes in two weeks &#8212; and they offer the grand price of thirty dollars.</p> <p>I discovered my favorite job offer a month ago. This client requested a letter to tell their co-worker just how badly they stunk. The thought behind the letter was kind, I believe, since they would be including a basket of personal hygiene items. &#8220;Roses are red, violets are blue, garbage stinks, and so do you!&#8221; In spite of this brilliant piece of poetry, I opted out of the job.<img data-attachment-id="1175" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/tiger-stripes-and-other-random-stuff/rose-1642970_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=394&#038;h=270" data-orig-size="640,439" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;16&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;NIKON D3200&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;50&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;100&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.125&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="rose-1642970_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=394&#038;h=270?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=394&#038;h=270?w=640" class=" wp-image-1175 alignleft" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=394&#038;h=270" alt="rose-1642970_640" width="394" height="270" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=394&amp;h=270 394w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=103 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=206 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/rose-1642970_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 394px) 100vw, 394px" /></p> <p>W<span style="display:inline !important;float:none;background-color:#ffffff;color:#2b2d2f;font-family:'Noto Serif', Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:16px;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:inherit;orphans:2;text-align:left;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;word-spacing:0;">ithout my freelance jobs, extensive kn</span>owledge of small farm equipment might not have ever appeared on my horizon. I would not have had the privilege to be employed writing children&#8217;s Bible lessons and stories. I wouldn&#8217;t have fought to keep my mouth closed while researching the weird objects sold on eBay or rejected jobs offering $20 for a million words (no joke).</p> <p>With all this random trivia stuck in my head, I might even appear on lists of top ten people to be stuck on an elevator with.</p> <p>If only I wasn&#8217;t mildly claustrophobic.</p> <p>If you were stuck on an elevator, what random trivia would you share?</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> Interview: Mary Magdalene’s Sister (Part 2) http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23044 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:0693a199-d4a0-5a80-a4a4-1efd0adcdba8 Thu, 25 Apr 2019 07:29:53 -0400 (The following includes the remainder of a fictional interview by first-century writer Caleb. Based on historical Gospel accounts, it takes place soon after Jesus of Nazareth’s execution. As Caleb conducts the interview, using a small tape recorder, Mary Magdalene’s sister, Huldah, stirs a huge pot of stew and occasionally yells at her children.) Huldah: As [&#8230;] <p><em>(The following includes the remainder of a fictional interview by first-century writer Caleb. Based on historical Gospel accounts, it takes place soon after Jesus of Nazareth’s execution. As Caleb conducts the interview, using a small tape recorder, Mary Magdalene’s sister, Huldah, stirs a huge pot of stew and occasionally yells at her children.) </em></p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> As I said, Daniel and I weren’t crazy about Mary’s being a groupie, trailing after this rock-star rabbi, Jesus. It’s not like she wasn’t already nutty as a fruitcake. But the more Mary hung with Jesus, the better she got.</p> <p>We were grateful, though I worried about her reputation when she traveled with Jesus.</p> <p>Mary thought that was funny. “Huldah, I don’t have a reputation to lose!”</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-Mary-Magdalene-and-Jesus-1138278_1920-1024x657.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23051" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-Mary-Magdalene-and-Jesus-1138278_1920-1024x657.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-Mary-Magdalene-and-Jesus-1138278_1920-300x192.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-Mary-Magdalene-and-Jesus-1138278_1920-768x492.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-Mary-Magdalene-and-Jesus-1138278_1920-624x400.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> How did you feel about Jesus’ enemies?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> What do you think? I worried. Worried our rabbi would kick Mary out of the synagogue. That she’d get us kicked out, and our business would go bankrupt.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> What about the Romans’ reaction to Jesus and his followers?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Duh! You know they also crucify women, if they’re in the mood.</p> <p>But when Mary visited weekends, I’d never seen her so … peaceful.</p> <p>Still, she worried about Jesus. He didn’t do anything wrong. He did everything right! But that didn’t earn him any brownie points. We came here to Jerusalem for Passover, but instead of celebrating, the whole town waited, as if expecting fire to fall. When we heard they’d crucified Jesus, we were scared Mary would hang on a cross next to him.</p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190425-cross-and-jesus-3476251_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23052" width="561" height="373" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190425-cross-and-jesus-3476251_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190425-cross-and-jesus-3476251_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190425-cross-and-jesus-3476251_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190425-cross-and-jesus-3476251_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 561px) 100vw, 561px" /></figure></div> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> What happened to her?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Thank God, the Romans hadn’t harmed her. When Jesus died, we begged Mary to hide outside Jerusalem. But she wanted to help bury him.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> She’s still okay?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> I—I don’t know. Mary swears up and down she not only saw but talked to Jesus.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> She thinks a man survived crucifixion?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Yes, she’s crazy happy. Others who claim they saw him are crazy happy. Maybe they’re all loonier than she was in the first place!</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Maybe?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> I know, I know. Roman soldiers are good at their job. I saw Jesus die. Mary saw his followers put the body into a tomb. Yet she won’t back down. She can’t wait to see Jesus again.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Um, Huldah, I want to put a positive spin on this. But you need to get Mary some help.</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> If only she’ll come home with us — there she is! Talk to her. Wait. Who is that Man walking behind her?</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> It can’t be —</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> <em>(screaming)</em> Mary’s right! Jesus <em>is </em>alive!</p> <p><em>(Caleb’s recorder plopped into the stewpot, and normally, an interview would have been lost forever. But this one, Caleb noted later, he would never forget.)</em></p> <div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter is-resized"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190415-empty-tomb-3326100_640.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-22756" width="502" height="335"/></figure></div> <p><strong>Your Extraordinary Ordinary: </strong>If you could talk to someone who saw Jesus after His Resurrection, who would it be?</p> Interview: Mary Magdalene’s Sister http://rachaelophillips.com/?p=23036 Rachael O. Phillips urn:uuid:3186b4ed-0ae9-3329-f594-22b64529ce52 Wed, 24 Apr 2019 08:04:17 -0400 (The following fictional interview by first-century writer Caleb is based on historical Gospel accounts, taking place soon after Jesus of Nazareth’s execution. As Caleb adjusts a small tape recorder, Mary Magdalene’s sister, Huldah, stirs a huge pot of stew.) Caleb: Huldah, thanks for agreeing to talk with me about Mary. Huldah: Yeah, yeah. People are [&#8230;] <p><em>(The following fictional interview by first-century writer Caleb is based on historical Gospel accounts, taking place soon after Jesus of Nazareth’s execution. As Caleb adjusts a small tape recorder, Mary Magdalene’s sister, Huldah, stirs a huge pot of stew.)</em></p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Huldah, thanks for agreeing to talk with me about Mary.</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Yeah, yeah. People are saying crazy stuff, so maybe I can clear up a few rumors.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> To keep things straight for readers, we’re discussing Mary Magdalene.</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> There are a million Marys running around. Mom and Dad gave her the popular name, of course. Leave that alone! <em>(She waves a big spoon at the curious kid sneaking behind Caleb, then apologizes.)</em> Sorry. I didn’t mean you.</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-stewed-lamb-1342395_1920-1024x683.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-23041" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-stewed-lamb-1342395_1920-1024x683.jpg 1024w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-stewed-lamb-1342395_1920-300x200.jpg 300w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-stewed-lamb-1342395_1920-768x512.jpg 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-stewed-lamb-1342395_1920-624x416.jpg 624w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" /></figure> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Um … no problem. You’re her older sister?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Yeah, been looking out for Mary since forever. She was always different … then she started hearing voices. Saw stuff that wasn’t there. Got really mean. Our parents passed her around to relatives like she was a bad cold. Before they died, they made me promise to take care of her.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Mary met Jesus, called the Christ, didn’t she?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Yeah. She’d wandered off, out of her head. I said, “Good riddance!” Maybe Daniel and I could enjoy some peace. But we had to look for her. She’d joined those groupies following Jesus, the rock-star rabbi.</p> <p>I said to Daniel, “Just great. Sounds like he runs a medicine show.”</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Upon seeing you, how did Mary react?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Mary doesn’t hug anybody — she slugs ’em. But this time, she hugged me. Then she laughed! I couldn’t remember the last time I heard her laugh.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> I saw Jesus, maybe twice. Did you?</p> <figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-rock-star-rabbi-jesus-2152704_1280-880x1024.png" alt="" class="wp-image-23039" srcset="http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-rock-star-rabbi-jesus-2152704_1280-880x1024.png 880w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-rock-star-rabbi-jesus-2152704_1280-258x300.png 258w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-rock-star-rabbi-jesus-2152704_1280-768x894.png 768w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-rock-star-rabbi-jesus-2152704_1280-624x726.png 624w, http://rachaelophillips.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/190424-rock-star-rabbi-jesus-2152704_1280.png 1100w" sizes="(max-width: 880px) 100vw, 880px" /></figure> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Yeah. For a rock star, he wasn’t real good-lookin’. There was nothing special about Jesus, until he talked — and healed a leper who used to live next door.</p> <p>I told Daniel, “I’ll take his brand of crazy, anytime.” Turns out, the more Mary was around Jesus, the better she got.</p> <p><strong>Caleb:</strong> Has she regressed since then?</p> <p><strong>Huldah:</strong> Well … you be the judge of that, after you hear the whole story.</p> <p style="text-align:center"><strong>To be continued tomorrow, April 24.</strong></p> <p><strong>Your Extraordinary Ordinary: </strong>Have you ever considered what happened the week after Easter? And don’t you just hate “to be continued” stories?</p> Remembering https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/04/remembering.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:fcab4eac-5fd3-0596-9acd-e4d2cc88cba6 Tue, 23 Apr 2019 17:20:27 -0400 A week of remembrances: Holy Week to meditate on Jesus' last week on this earth; the annual Seaman memorial; ongoing condolences for friend and coworker from M/V Doulos, Em Namuco from the Philippines; photos and posts about the visit of the new OM ship, Logos Hope's visit to Uruguay; and the surprise visit of a family friend who grew up with our kids.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H0deioleYj8/XL5w_xGt4MI/AAAAAAAAVRk/Mh7s6Ax0tq4h3wMGVJtLE8jXBmlihZhvQCEwYBhgL/s1600/57649367_10100754640158486_2397145995222712320_n%2Bdark%2Bedge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="525" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H0deioleYj8/XL5w_xGt4MI/AAAAAAAAVRk/Mh7s6Ax0tq4h3wMGVJtLE8jXBmlihZhvQCEwYBhgL/s320/57649367_10100754640158486_2397145995222712320_n%2Bdark%2Bedge.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><br />The fifteenth&nbsp;<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDd93keww1Q">Taylor University Chapel</a> in memory of Richard A. Seaman was followed by a special luncheon with family and friends. We look forward to this inspirational event and to reconnecting with the family each spring. He was a beloved business professor who impacted many in his short life. He died suddenly at age 42. Ironically, this memorial coincided with tax day.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PlIQznyly-A/XL9crwp_WMI/AAAAAAAAVSw/5LFEdpecxgcfthDaivOTgUBzaqHYKjblQCEwYBhgL/s1600/9513740_114843088154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PlIQznyly-A/XL9crwp_WMI/AAAAAAAAVSw/5LFEdpecxgcfthDaivOTgUBzaqHYKjblQCEwYBhgL/s320/9513740_114843088154.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />In this old photo we were celebrating Em Namuco's 35th birthday in Santa Rosa de Calamuchita, at my parent's home in Argentina, forty years ago. We were there with a team from the ship Doulos. Our children were 8, 6, and 7 months. And my youngest brother Alan, in the middle next to Em, was only 16. So many memories.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jpce6OLkoE0/XL9tGU3AObI/AAAAAAAAVTU/2OV12yHrXyI5_JQv5Mogx8e1WRhmwr2dwCLcBGAs/s1600/Em%2527s%2Bbirthday%2Bin%2BSanta%2BRosa%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="704" height="256" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jpce6OLkoE0/XL9tGU3AObI/AAAAAAAAVTU/2OV12yHrXyI5_JQv5Mogx8e1WRhmwr2dwCLcBGAs/s400/Em%2527s%2Bbirthday%2Bin%2BSanta%2BRosa%2B2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Eduardo Wojnarowicz (on right) was a member of the Doulos Singers forty years ago. Their music touched many hearts, however, the greatest impact was on their own lives. Eduardo was thrilled to be able to visit this newer ship. Here he posed with ministry leaders onboard, Randy and Kimberly Grebe. They have stayed in our home a couple times!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ClQ4yuJiyAg/XL9Wa0xvOeI/AAAAAAAAVSc/bnO4O81fNA89EOpuyCLDTgra4sbnP1bewCEwYBhgL/s1600/af3a6f9f-e76b-4dd8-9151-546756f1ad6b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="857" data-original-width="1492" height="183" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ClQ4yuJiyAg/XL9Wa0xvOeI/AAAAAAAAVSc/bnO4O81fNA89EOpuyCLDTgra4sbnP1bewCEwYBhgL/s320/af3a6f9f-e76b-4dd8-9151-546756f1ad6b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Kyle Doane moved away a long time ago, but he has always been a good friend to Leah, in fact he is Kayla's godfather.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dSFf6isB2Bk/XL9Y3VyGQzI/AAAAAAAAVSo/nrZHaZckeREvSTiTa6bPNV3esEKsgbqLwCEwYBhgL/s1600/58380523_10100754668052586_8298782822043222016_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1288" height="201" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dSFf6isB2Bk/XL9Y3VyGQzI/AAAAAAAAVSo/nrZHaZckeREvSTiTa6bPNV3esEKsgbqLwCEwYBhgL/s320/58380523_10100754668052586_8298782822043222016_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />So Holy Week began with Palm Sunday and a special Kiddie Kampus program with Rebecca and all her preschool friends singing excitedly, expressively. So cute!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PGJm_Ok7oNs/XL9e-gsSxmI/AAAAAAAAVS8/RtljoGg7IPwC8jynKBNdO0rLcnnVrIpbgCEwYBhgL/s1600/KK%2BEaster%2Bprogram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PGJm_Ok7oNs/XL9e-gsSxmI/AAAAAAAAVS8/RtljoGg7IPwC8jynKBNdO0rLcnnVrIpbgCEwYBhgL/s400/KK%2BEaster%2Bprogram.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Maundy Thursday I was thinking of one of the last things Jesus did with his disciples when he knew his time had come--He washed their feet, and urged them to do the same (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+13&amp;version=NLT">John 13</a>). I am reminded of two things: the daily cleansing available to us from taint of sin, and Jesus' commandment to love one another.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5SAUG1-uHBw/XL5xUTdrGtI/AAAAAAAAVSQ/anK0PyDrLlwhxYjcqI4D8awJN5m1LqdwgCEwYBhgL/s1600/57649306_10100752620999896_5835687470846443520_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="960" height="305" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5SAUG1-uHBw/XL5xUTdrGtI/AAAAAAAAVSQ/anK0PyDrLlwhxYjcqI4D8awJN5m1LqdwgCEwYBhgL/s320/57649306_10100752620999896_5835687470846443520_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Interestingly, the 2019 calendar dates are identical to 1946, the year I am working on as I write about my childhood.<br />April 20, 1946, my parents wrote:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">This is Easter season and a big one here in the Argentine. Last night at 6 o’clock (Good Friday) we put Rita in her cart and went up to the main street to see the big parade. It looked like all of La Carlota was there to parade the streets in hopes of saving their souls. The procession began with a boy carrying a cross. He was dressed in a fancy white cape. Behind him came about 75 children dressed in their best clothes. Next in line came men and women carrying lighted candles, chanting as they went. All the women wore netted veils. Throughout the whole procession were three images. These they bore on staves like the Israelites did the ark. The first image was of Christ, the second of Mary and the last of Christ resting at the foot of a cross after His death. The priest walked before the last image and at every street crossing he would stop the image and chant off a few lines of something. . . On a cross out in front of their church is written in Spanish “Save your soul” so I suppose they were in the process last night. . . Mrs. Dowdy told us that every year they bury or go through the act of burying Christ and some people actually think that the Lord dies every year.&nbsp;</span></i></blockquote>Saturday, Michael and I visited Mother in Grace Village. Brother Alan and nephew Daniel joined us in the main dining room to celebrate Easter with her. It is always good to catch up with one another. The big news was that Daniel is moving in June and will be taking up a new career--culinary studies.<br /><i><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C0pI6V6H6VM/XL5xUwXqMOI/AAAAAAAAVSM/ZttCLH6YP6MU7kJyYkwVC1QvL1aUeoBSwCEwYBhgL/s1600/20190420_130819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1137" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C0pI6V6H6VM/XL5xUwXqMOI/AAAAAAAAVSM/ZttCLH6YP6MU7kJyYkwVC1QvL1aUeoBSwCEwYBhgL/s400/20190420_130819.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On Sunday our family got together to celebrate the Resurrection. There were many precious and memorable moments. I can only highlight a few. Our little ones entertained us delightfully.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Jude is in Kindergarten, already reading well. He read us the Easter story.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Zion loves the book I read to his third grade class and wanted to read it to the whole family. He did so with great expression.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Then Rebecca danced for us (with Kayla's coaching, of course) as a celebration response.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OMDlPmS7ZMU/XL9g8-wjOZI/AAAAAAAAVTI/847Q_FXBJagb5DlKBH6zfry9Rb9kya3QgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Youngest%2Bat%2BEaster%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="1600" height="296" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OMDlPmS7ZMU/XL9g8-wjOZI/AAAAAAAAVTI/847Q_FXBJagb5DlKBH6zfry9Rb9kya3QgCEwYBhgL/s640/Youngest%2Bat%2BEaster%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></i></div><br /><br />Michael told us of an Easter Sunday long ago, probably 45 years ago, when he and Bob Craton were in Turkey to make a documentary. Interestingly, Bob wrote about the same memory.<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Christ is risen! Many years ago I celebrated Easter in an Armenian Church in Eastern Turkey. Many members of the congregation remembered relatives and friends who were martyred for their faith during WWI. One woman told me how her father, brothers, uncles and cousins had sung a hymn as they were marched away to their deaths. Christ is Risen had a meaning to that congregation that most of us American Christians cannot comprehend.</i></span></span></blockquote>Michael added a few other aspects of that memorable experience. The host served everyone from the roasted lamb by tearing off pieces and handing them out, no utensils needed. Their home was part of the jail complex where the condemned men were held. Another memory of that march to their end, was the sound of the women making the high-pitched tongue-trilling sound for celebrations--the <i><a href="https://soundstudies.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/zaghareet-egypt.mp3?fbclid=IwAR0FdVaPbnrFHDrR1irnjH0VZKv1_UqPck7W7ZkRBoppoMYydPPJSsOjxck">kelele</a> </i>(?) Martyrdom ushered the men into the presence of the risen Christ.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>&nbsp;<b>He is risen indeed!</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"></div></span></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/6JeztQDF2GY" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> More About Sam https://onflesherpond.com/2019/04/22/more-about-sam/ On Flesher Pond urn:uuid:f7835a86-7f3f-9793-ed5f-119ed9a38ec3 Mon, 22 Apr 2019 06:43:37 -0400 I can now take a direct flight to Pacific Northwest Paradise (see Sleep-deprived but Happy) and fly home before dark, but once I came back on a red-eye. Changing planes at one a.m. is just wrong for me. I usually go to sleep with the chickens. That night when I made the connecting flight, I &#8230; <a href="https://onflesherpond.com/2019/04/22/more-about-sam/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">More About Sam</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a> <p>I can now take a direct flight to Pacific Northwest Paradise (see <em>Sleep-deprived but Happy</em>) and fly home before dark, but once I came back on a red-eye. Changing planes at one a.m. is just wrong for me. I usually go to sleep with the chickens. That night when I made the connecting flight, I might have been sleep-walking as I climbed into the bus to go from one end of the airport to the other. I slept fitfully the last leg of the flight in that cold, dark cabin. Would morning never come?! </p> <p>Sam held the car door open for me at 7 a.m. and I fell inside. My feet and ankles were badly swollen. It had been a long, long night. He had brought a thermos of hot tea, cheese, crackers, and apples for a respite during the ninety-minute car ride home. Back at the house, I dumped my luggage on the bed and heard him running a hot bath. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee and bring it in,” he said. I slid down under the soothing water, legs stretched out, and sighed. The aroma of the vanilla candle he had lit on the edge of the tub brought back memories of all things fine and good. Here was a man to keep.</p> <p>Sam says he was smitten with me the first night we met. Mutual friends conspired to get us together on the last night of the century. Known as Y2K, even experts wondered if all computers around the world would crash. What would happen when the computer clocks flipped to a date beginning with a “2?” They had only been programmed to begin with “19xx.” At the stroke of midnight, when clocks changed from 12:00:00 to 12:00:01, would all data be lost?</p> <p>The next day, the world continued to turn.</p> <p>Sam didn’t call, but e-mailed periodically. Polite and non-committal, I didn’t give in until nine months later, saying, “Why don’t we go out instead of e-mailing?” In September, he asked me to go canoeing with him. He couldn’t have known how I would like that. He had been a boy scout, and after college spent two years as a scout master. Camping and canoeing were a part of him. I had lived most of my life near the Mississinewa River, and crossed it back and forth daily to go to town, but I had never been <em>on</em> it. It was a good first date.</p> <p>We discovered we had both taken piano lessons from Miss Shannon (see <em>Turtles and Teapots</em>). Growing up in small towns seven miles apart, we had probably seen each other in passing. Easy-going, he likes making tea in a teapot, and with a bit of panache serves cookies warm out of the oven. </p> <p>In a few weeks we’ll celebrate sixteen years of marriage. We’ve had some rough years, but this has been a good one. It means a lot to visit family, but it’s always good to come home to Sam – and afternoon tea.</p> Side Project: Wheelchair Charioteer http://www.freelanceknight.com/side-project-wheelchair-charioteer/ Freelance Knight urn:uuid:7e3cecbf-0fc0-9a13-662e-bc4f91ad8934 Fri, 19 Apr 2019 17:30:44 -0400 <p>So what is a Wheelchair Charioteer? It is someone with such great heart they willingly offer themselves as a guide and servant to a friend or family member in a wheelchair who desires to enjoy a convention or event. Though&#8230; </p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com/side-project-wheelchair-charioteer/">Side Project: Wheelchair Charioteer</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.freelanceknight.com">Freelance Knight</a>.</p> April Surprises https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/04/april-surprises.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:63d0d087-1c7c-cbff-7a9b-18df1671673d Wed, 17 Apr 2019 00:09:23 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>&nbsp;Every spring I am delightfully surprised to see the blooms that pop up in our woods once again.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oG8NE_jh_KU/XLYJi8I6gMI/AAAAAAAAVP8/g3dqdVaBGW0xeA4LPhmHbVcBcFZO35JZgCLcBGAs/s1600/Spring%2Bbuds%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1600" height="291" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oG8NE_jh_KU/XLYJi8I6gMI/AAAAAAAAVP8/g3dqdVaBGW0xeA4LPhmHbVcBcFZO35JZgCLcBGAs/s400/Spring%2Bbuds%2BCollage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>This time of year some like to prepare their hearts to celebrate Resurrection Sunday--Easter.<br />I learned this week of a 7-Day Art Challenge: Thriving in the Light of Easter--#resurrection thriving.<br />Every day we were given a theme and Bible verses to inspire a creative response.<br />Day 1: Given eternal life<br />I focused more on the price paid for the eternal life I can enjoy. He took my place, ". . . he was pierced for our rebellion. . ." (pastels on tar paper)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YOD_vaWOqcs/XLYJi38Pt-I/AAAAAAAAVP4/7G7fdtEYZR0aFieG4QbN8sXhs_WUmmkJwCLcBGAs/s1600/resurrection%2Bthriving%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1478" data-original-width="1500" height="315" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YOD_vaWOqcs/XLYJi38Pt-I/AAAAAAAAVP4/7G7fdtEYZR0aFieG4QbN8sXhs_WUmmkJwCLcBGAs/s320/resurrection%2Bthriving%2BCollage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />Day 2: Healed in Body and Mind<br />On this day I thought about the abundant life His healing made possible for me. In response I want to give back using the gifts He has given me.<br />In fact, on the evening I was working on the giving hands, I was so carried away enjoying the process that I forgot my regular responsibility, to pick up Rebecca from her program at the church.<br />They called 30 minutes later. I saw the name, did not even answer, just ran to the car. She was the last one there. Hopefully she was not permanently damaged, ha! Actually, she likes to run around the church for a while and is never ready to leave right away. She spent the night here the next day and we had fun.<br /><br />I haven't progressed much this week in the WRITING area. It was a very full week for both of us.<br />Michael and the drive team left Wednesday afternoon for the Indiana state FRC (FIRST Robotics Competition) in Kokomo.<br /><br />I stayed home again, this time because of my responsibilities on the organizing committee for the 9th annual <a href="http://bartonreespogue.org/">Barton Rees Pogue Poetry and Arts festival</a>. I set up some of our art on Friday night, before our local author's event--a couple of Michael's clay sculptures, daughter Leah's piece and my most recent watercolors. However, I felt we needed to fill the space better and tell the story of Leah's "Shattered Woman." So, the next day I brought "Serenity" and "Youth", the two bronzes.<br />The story behind Leah's piece starts with the <a href="https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2014/08/2014-week-34-weeks-miscellany.html">disaster </a>that struck the lost wax process. Unbeknownst to us, Leah collected the broken pieces. Michael did not give up, came back to <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1521399997088390580#editor/target=post;postID=6130757203974509260;onPublishedMenu=template;onClosedMenu=template;postNum=36;src=postname">the project</a> and painstakingly restored each part, and finally was able to complete the bronze pour. "Serenity" is a beautiful masterpiece.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pCx_2VEJwHc/XLYV2eAl5CI/AAAAAAAAVRE/Nvb2FsWgggArlUxE5HtK9QQH3KgibXnDACLcBGAs/s1600/BRP%2Bart%2Bexhibit%2B19%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pCx_2VEJwHc/XLYV2eAl5CI/AAAAAAAAVRE/Nvb2FsWgggArlUxE5HtK9QQH3KgibXnDACLcBGAs/s640/BRP%2Bart%2Bexhibit%2B19%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />This year Leah finished her very meaningful rendition of "Shattered Woman" using all the rescued pieces.<br /><br />She did not enter any poems this time. I didn't either. Instead I was one of the adult poetry judges.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xykbrMClP0c/XLYJUjhFeOI/AAAAAAAAVPs/90qdpg4Dd6oK4dfaNwuBhJSw4CwaaFj1QCLcBGAs/s1600/Judges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="1077" height="210" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xykbrMClP0c/XLYJUjhFeOI/AAAAAAAAVPs/90qdpg4Dd6oK4dfaNwuBhJSw4CwaaFj1QCLcBGAs/s400/Judges.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Alongside the beautiful sculptures, my watercolors looked rather silly. So when they handed me the prize for Adult Artist, I knew there was a mistake, they had the wrong Koch. I went to the front desk to point out their mistake, and saw that the votes were for the following specific paintings, by title! Ha! Those were not even my favorites. Strange things happen.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X0vDQxKk-5c/XLYJOIAYOjI/AAAAAAAAVPo/XI3EUyOXr7smaseXDJo3BMK7VZYIdE8MACLcBGAs/s1600/watercolors%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="1600" height="262" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X0vDQxKk-5c/XLYJOIAYOjI/AAAAAAAAVPo/XI3EUyOXr7smaseXDJo3BMK7VZYIdE8MACLcBGAs/s640/watercolors%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>The most exciting surprise of the day was that Michael won the Woodie Flowers Award for Indiana, a most prestigious honor and long overdue recognition of all his contributions as lead mentor for the robotics team.&nbsp;</b></div>Go&nbsp;<a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/14Hxc-osFZsimRtl7h2oKz6tWDj_BPaJn55qMs1kCcBg/edit?usp=sharing">here</a>&nbsp;to read the essay the students wrote that won him the nomination. Then watch the&nbsp;<a href="https://clips.twitch.tv/AdorableKnottyDugongMikeHogu?fbclid=IwAR2C9evNxl06yiYNq2HwGwGQDF5rQcaeb_5NmcIN1ZkzpuOoY6BmEpD8egw">emotional moment</a>&nbsp;when all the former Woodie Flowers awardees greeted and congratulated him.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RZ2jSfWAObE/XLYV2UuIDLI/AAAAAAAAVRA/3eyGuas1bgYE_jiDCI5OeZ9B5fuRLTqiACLcBGAs/s1600/IN%2Bstate%2BFRC%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="700" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RZ2jSfWAObE/XLYV2UuIDLI/AAAAAAAAVRA/3eyGuas1bgYE_jiDCI5OeZ9B5fuRLTqiACLcBGAs/s640/IN%2Bstate%2BFRC%2BCollage.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>It was a very good day for the entire team. Space Walrus, their googly-eyed robot, performed very well with the help of a great drive team. Team 1720 captained the #2 alliance; once again made it to the finals; is currently ranked third in the state; and headed to World competition next week! Oh, PhyXTGgears also won the Autonomous Award for their climb mechanism!<br /><br />Wow! What a weekend! How was yours?<br /><br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/Iog04eHyrl4" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> The Problem I Didn’t Know I Had https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/the-problem-i-didnt-know-i-had/ Jody's Musings urn:uuid:82348b55-add3-c8b6-24d6-0fd4000ebe6f Tue, 16 Apr 2019 14:10:17 -0400 Discovering a problem you didn&#8217;t know you had is never fun. Not that I didn&#8217;t know I had a problem. Chronic migraine has been a part of my life for around fifteen years now. On a recent trip to the dentist, in between skipping with glee or perhaps crying (the details are a bit fuzzy), &#8230; <a href="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/the-problem-i-didnt-know-i-had/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">The Problem I Didn&#8217;t Know I&#160;Had</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="1165" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/the-problem-i-didnt-know-i-had/tooth-1015409_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=423&#038;h=423" data-orig-size="640,640" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="tooth-1015409_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=423&#038;h=423?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=423&#038;h=423?w=640" class=" wp-image-1165 aligncenter" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=423&#038;h=423" alt="tooth-1015409_640" width="423" height="423" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=423&amp;h=423 423w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=150 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=300 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/tooth-1015409_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 423px) 100vw, 423px" /></p> <p>Discovering a problem you didn&#8217;t know you had is never fun. Not that I didn&#8217;t know I had a problem. Chronic migraine has been a part of my life for around fifteen years now.</p> <p>On a recent trip to the dentist, in between skipping with glee or perhaps crying (the details are a bit fuzzy), I discovered that I had too many teeth for my tiny mouth. In fact, this might be one of the causes of my migraines.</p> <p>Oh joy! If anyone ever tells me I have a big mouth, I can point them to medical proof that I do not.</p> <p>Of course, the natural response to my too-many-too-small dilemma is to send me off to an oral surgeon. I skipped my way to his office, too. I think. I might have been dragging my feet alongside my car as I drove there. Again, the details are a bit fuzzy.</p> <p>Oral surgeon confirmed that the teeth had to go. So with some degree of reluctance, I scheduled a day for the surgery.</p> <p>To be honest, the thing that scared me the most was to be put under. Flashes of memories of pets being taken to the vet to be &#8220;put under&#8221; rose up to greet my darkest imaginings. Here, I expose the dark underbelly of being a writer. A good imagination is wonderful &#8212; until it is late at night and you are contemplating all the things that could go wrong.<img data-attachment-id="1167" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/the-problem-i-didnt-know-i-had/silhouette-1734706_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=133&#038;h=205" data-orig-size="415,640" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="silhouette-1734706_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=133&#038;h=205?w=195" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=133&#038;h=205?w=415" class=" wp-image-1167 alignright" style="color:#50575d;float:right;font-family:&amp;font-size:16px;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;font-weight:400;height:auto;letter-spacing:normal;max-width:100%;orphans:2;outline-color:#777777;outline-style:solid;outline-width:1px;text-align:left;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;word-spacing:0;margin:16px 0 16px 16px;" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=133&#038;h=205" alt="silhouette-1734706_640.png" width="133" height="205" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=133&amp;h=205 133w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=266&amp;h=410 266w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=97&amp;h=150 97w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/silhouette-1734706_640.png?w=195&amp;h=300 195w" sizes="(max-width: 133px) 100vw, 133px" /></p> <p>That&#8217;s when all the classes on writing I took shoved their way into my brain. In essence, when one writes a book, one must ask, &#8220;What is the worst thing that can happen to my character?&#8221; Once one arrives at a conclusion, one asks again, &#8220;What would make it even worse, and then still worse?&#8221;</p> <p>This is all very well and good when one is casting one&#8217;s characters into these situations. This is slightly less fun when I&#8217;m asking myself, &#8220;Okay, what could go wrong with the surgery? What would make it even worse, and still worse again?&#8221;</p> <p>Around the time, I had reached the 30x worse that could happen, I tried to reign in my out-of-control thoughts. I prayed. I put my trust in God to help me through.</p> <p>After surviving surgery &#8212; and a bad reaction to my pain meds &#8212; I returned to the land of normalcy. But the whole realizing I had a problem of a too-tiny mouth and too-many teeth made me think about other problems people don&#8217;t know they have.</p> <p>The biggest one is sin. Thankfully, God has warned us about this problem. He has provided away to escape through salvation in His Son.</p> <p>As people gear up for Easter and the celebration of Christ&#8217;s resurrection, perhaps we should all consider our too-many sins and our too-dirty hearts, and thank God for providing a way to find freedom through Christ. <img data-attachment-id="1164" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/the-problem-i-didnt-know-i-had/cross-671379_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=259&#038;h=194" data-orig-size="640,480" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;6.8&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;FinePix S5700 S700&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;63.3&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;64&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.002&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="cross-671379_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=259&#038;h=194?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=259&#038;h=194?w=640" class=" wp-image-1164 alignleft" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=259&#038;h=194" alt="cross-671379_640" width="259" height="194" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=259&amp;h=194 259w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=518&amp;h=388 518w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=113 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/cross-671379_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=225 300w" sizes="(max-width: 259px) 100vw, 259px" /></p> <p>Best of all, there will be no horrible reactions to pain meds.</p> <p>&#8220;But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.&#8221;  Romans 5:8</p> <p>Have you ever discovered a problem you didn&#8217;t know you had?</p> Third Chances https://onflesherpond.com/2019/04/15/third-chances/ On Flesher Pond urn:uuid:59a75981-2d43-2c9f-5274-d383a846b407 Mon, 15 Apr 2019 07:21:54 -0400 Frank and Opal are upset this year (see Frank and Opal). The last plunge of the polar vortex kept them away from Flesher Pond until March 18. Sam texted me while I was in baby heaven (see Sleep-deprived but Happy) in the Pacific Northwest: “Frank and Opal have arrived.” He said they wandered over the &#8230; <a href="https://onflesherpond.com/2019/04/15/third-chances/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Third Chances</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a> <p>Frank and Opal are upset this year (see <em>Frank and Opal</em>). The last plunge of the polar vortex kept them away from Flesher Pond until March 18. Sam texted me while I was in baby heaven (see <em>Sleep-deprived but Happy</em>) in the Pacific Northwest: “Frank and Opal have arrived.” He said they wandered over the yard, and came and left, and came again. Opal still hasn’t nested. We don’t think it’s “Frank” or “Opal.” We go along for years, and even decades in the case of our resident geese, and then everything changes. Sometimes the Big Ds invade our lives: disease, divorce, death.</p> <p>Last Thanksgiving, Sam and I were too busy to get to the hospital. Our brother-in-law just had his second “little” heart attack in two weeks. We decided to wait and see him on the weekend, back at his home. On Saturday, both cars were there when we pulled into the drive. My younger sister didn’t answer her phone or my text so I sheepishly walked into the garage and pushed open the kitchen door. The dogs didn’t come to greet me, and that was strange. It felt too intrusive to go to the bottom of the stairs and call up, “Are you up there?” But I felt strongly that I should see him NOW.</p> <p>Instead we drove away. At 3:30 the next morning, she called. “He fell to the floor and is not responding. Meet me at the hospital.”</p> <p>I <em>had</em> to wash my hair, but we were still in the car in twenty minutes. In the E.R., I asked her to take me in to see him. His body was still warm when I touched his forehead. It just wasn’t right. Nothing about it was right. But he was gone.</p> <p>Four years ago, I was busy planning my own 60<sup>th</sup> birthday party. I thought maybe that would bring my children home. And it worked! Spring was a happy time planning and preparing for my family. Then things turned the wrong way. A month before Party Day, we got word that my cousin was diagnosed with leukemia. My older sister, K.S. (see <em>Jerky and Pears</em>, <em>Two Good Women</em>, and <em>The Red Truck</em>) and I, busy with party planning, decided to wait to visit her. </p> <p>Ten days before the party the toilet started to leak. Sam had to tear out the floor; and finished the sub-floor, vinyl, and new low-flow toilet in record time. In the living room, a crack in the wall became large enough that we knew it wasn’t just our old house shifting. I cleaned up the drywall dust on the floor and Sam went outside to tear off the cedar siding. Extensive termite damage, up chest high. We called the bug man. Then the u-joint and the air conditioner went out on the Jeep Cherokee. Then the fridge died, and the dryer, too. Just before the party one night, my cousin needed emergency surgery. The next morning, we heard she did not pull through. My sister and I had missed the window to say, “Hello. We’re so sorry you are sick.” We missed saying goodbye. </p> <p>THEN we had a great party.</p> <p>Since there were too many expenses before the party, Sam and I exchanged our two-week vacation at the Outer Banks for two days in Michigan. Our in-laws joined us, and the second afternoon they drove our Jeep back to the campsite. Not knowing how to tell us, they pointed to the back bumper. A telephone pole in the restaurant parking lot had reached out and bashed them. With a shrug, I calmed the worried look on their faces. I would rather have a broken bumper than another funeral.</p> <p>Change is hard, but also inevitable. The geese aren’t nesting. And God gives third chances.</p> <p><em>“If you do not start choosing to get lost in some fairly low-risk ways, then how will you ever manage when one of life’s big winds knocks you clean off your course? &#8230;In my life, I have lost my way more times than I can count. I have set out to be married and ended up divorced. I have set out to be healthy and ended up sick&#8230;I have found things while I was lost that I might never have discovered if I had stayed on the path.” </em>Barbara Brown Taylor<em>, An Altar in the World</em></p> On Eagles’ Wings https://danlfullercountrywriter.wordpress.com/2019/04/12/on-eagles-wings/ Dan L Fuller Country Writer urn:uuid:1189a490-98de-c0e5-3748-61b3e00fb984 Fri, 12 Apr 2019 01:30:07 -0400 I, like many people, am fascinated with eagles. Especially bald eagles. They are majestic and beautiful in flight. I have been blessed to see them a number of times in the wild. A friend once lead my wife and me by canoe to a nest on the Manistee River. We got to see a pair in their &#8230; <a href="https://danlfullercountrywriter.wordpress.com/2019/04/12/on-eagles-wings/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">On Eagles&#8217; Wings</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="340" data-permalink="https://danlfullercountrywriter.wordpress.com/2019/04/12/on-eagles-wings/eagle/" data-orig-file="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=676" data-orig-size="3277,2185" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;10&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;fou&#039;12&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;Canon EOS 5D Mark III&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;in search of Eaglets at Six Mile (Pat) Lake...Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus)...one keeps gaurd...waiting for this..incoming fast food...&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;1432296653&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;fou&#039;12&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;840&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;125&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.001&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;1&quot;}" data-image-title="eagle" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=676?w=300" data-large-file="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=676?w=676" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-340" src="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=676" alt="eagle" srcset="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=676 676w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=1352 1352w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=150 150w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=300 300w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=768 768w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/eagle.jpg?w=1024 1024w" sizes="(max-width: 676px) 100vw, 676px" /></p> <p>I, like many people, am fascinated with eagles. Especially bald eagles. They are majestic and beautiful in flight. I have been blessed to see them a number of times in the wild. A friend once lead my wife and me by canoe to a nest on the Manistee River. We got to see a pair in their mating ritual flight, circling gracefully about each other high in a clear blue sky. Getting closer and closer, they reached out and touched their talons together even clasping each other&#8217;s feet briefly as they fell through the air.</p> <p>Recently, I read an article that amazed me even more. Mother eagles have a unique way of teaching their young to fly. Mom flaps her wings until a young eaglet falls out of the nest. She watches then swoops down and catches it on the back of her wings and carries it up to the nest. The process is repeated until the youngster gets the idea and soars on its own.</p> <p>In the Bible God reminds the Israelites through Mosses that this is the way He has lovingly watched and carried them, &#8220;on eagles&#8217; wings&#8221; (Exodus 19:4) during their journey through the desert. It was an analogy they would have understood, likely having seen that behavior from eagles they had observed on their travels through the wilderness.</p> <p>It&#8217;s a beautiful example that can still inspire us today.</p> <p>&#8220;Like an eagle that rouses her chicks and hovers over young, so He spread his wings to take them up and carried them safely on His wings.&#8221;</p> <p>Deuteronomy 32:11</p> April Memories https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/04/april-memories.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:56f013c9-399a-2354-b300-f3426ef96689 Tue, 09 Apr 2019 16:12:01 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The awaited explosion of blooms happened this week--narcissus, daffodils, jonquils (I never know which is which). There are hundreds, and thousands (maybe even millions, billions, and trillions!)I go out every day and bring in an abundant bouquet of only the fallen and hidden ones. Their beauty needs an audience!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f8UX6Yn6GsY/XKzRfIhlXKI/AAAAAAAAVOU/z2yR_Mt1ccAbjNAE7h_m13vJvtzO1xNuwCLcBGAs/s1600/57154251_10100748478970556_9003864500398456832_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="937" height="306" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f8UX6Yn6GsY/XKzRfIhlXKI/AAAAAAAAVOU/z2yR_Mt1ccAbjNAE7h_m13vJvtzO1xNuwCLcBGAs/s640/57154251_10100748478970556_9003864500398456832_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Very old memories also exploded this past week. I am nearing the end of letter resources, so I looked into the photo album about our life in Argentina. I had put it together for my parents years ago. There were many that were difficult to arrange chronologically. I took along 10 pages-worth of 2"x 3"-size photos when I went to visit Mother on Tuesday, April 2, which would have been Dad's 98th birthday.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dCWt3W9fqcI/XKzRjFpCe8I/AAAAAAAAVOY/EqpyF4pV-bM-ezb4-JDnZVAvbjd5GE2mwCLcBGAs/s1600/56786090_10100748478995506_3347539987728957440_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="826" height="206" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dCWt3W9fqcI/XKzRjFpCe8I/AAAAAAAAVOY/EqpyF4pV-bM-ezb4-JDnZVAvbjd5GE2mwCLcBGAs/s400/56786090_10100748478995506_3347539987728957440_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After sharing them with Mother and Aunt Margaret, using her big lighted magnifying glass, I decided to scan and enlarge them before our next visit. In the process I made some interesting discoveries that help piece together the story of those early childhood years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I also posted the entire collection on Facebook for my Argentine friends to comment and hopefully recognize some of the faces in the pictures.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When we first arrived in La Carlota, our first mission assignment, we worked with the Dowdy family. Here you can see them in the back center, my mother next to Dortha, and me on the shoulders of one of their boys.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iv7YyWUshsg/XKzDh4OOwOI/AAAAAAAAVNw/M2dfUdchtJ46Cso_l9Ppvbk9FO6V2AlgQCEwYBhgL/s1600/grupo%2B1946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="867" height="272" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iv7YyWUshsg/XKzDh4OOwOI/AAAAAAAAVNw/M2dfUdchtJ46Cso_l9Ppvbk9FO6V2AlgQCEwYBhgL/s400/grupo%2B1946.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now it's your turn for the find-Rita-in the-next-photos challenge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wnOHmNnJFJk/XKzDhkXcjAI/AAAAAAAAVNs/Y4gDZqyiHd4nCHwQIXq6SszkF3111dl1gCEwYBhgL/s1600/grupo%2B1946%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="879" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wnOHmNnJFJk/XKzDhkXcjAI/AAAAAAAAVNs/Y4gDZqyiHd4nCHwQIXq6SszkF3111dl1gCEwYBhgL/s400/grupo%2B1946%2B1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a few months, the Dowdys moved on to another assignment and my parents were left to carry on the work, which included three other small towns as well as La Carlota.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kN306tYqa3w/XKzD4VsC7mI/AAAAAAAAVOE/plfcvhHrWxYYGeGVmb-R1ftn8E3Htvp_wCEwYBhgL/s1600/mudanza%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="726" data-original-width="582" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kN306tYqa3w/XKzD4VsC7mI/AAAAAAAAVOE/plfcvhHrWxYYGeGVmb-R1ftn8E3Htvp_wCEwYBhgL/s400/mudanza%2B1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Summer camps and annual church&nbsp;conferences took place in the sierras during the summer months, January - February.<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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ga-cDIHGREY/XKzFAS5iwyI/AAAAAAAAVOI/X4DiUntZGwwnpoLoy3X3v7LeRrsSVjOMACLcBGAs/s1600/Dortha%2BDowdy%252C%2Brita%252C%2Bdona%2BElena.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="618" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ga-cDIHGREY/XKzFAS5iwyI/AAAAAAAAVOI/X4DiUntZGwwnpoLoy3X3v7LeRrsSVjOMACLcBGAs/s320/Dortha%2BDowdy%252C%2Brita%252C%2Bdona%2BElena.png" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with Mrs. Dowdy and camp cook.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Looks like I got passed around quite a bit.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3Jw_GHyVjdI/XKzD4bhwtKI/AAAAAAAAVOA/2YBQlC_5Dx4RM3PauoS_6lo4fc0rfpdEQCEwYBhgL/s1600/campamento%2B1947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="854" height="271" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3Jw_GHyVjdI/XKzD4bhwtKI/AAAAAAAAVOA/2YBQlC_5Dx4RM3PauoS_6lo4fc0rfpdEQCEwYBhgL/s400/campamento%2B1947.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">An extra challenge: find my brother Lynn also!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eTymhp6CI9s/XKzDiAw91BI/AAAAAAAAVN0/d9hHoHUkzWo9n__9Jd85sKae4-jElQAegCEwYBhgL/s1600/grupo%2B1949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="898" height="224" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eTymhp6CI9s/XKzDiAw91BI/AAAAAAAAVN0/d9hHoHUkzWo9n__9Jd85sKae4-jElQAegCEwYBhgL/s320/grupo%2B1949.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Photos add to my memories and available records. My father seemed to get involved in a building project wherever he went. This was the start of the <i>Templo Evangélico </i>in La Carlota. I wrote about a related memory in this <a href="https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-old-photos.html">blog post</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h7JH6473ZrI/XKzDhfPkaJI/AAAAAAAAVNo/gEeDWfDte5Evtj6T5v0Yc-C3bEohMafbACEwYBhgL/s1600/el%2Btemplo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="872" height="261" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h7JH6473ZrI/XKzDhfPkaJI/AAAAAAAAVNo/gEeDWfDte5Evtj6T5v0Yc-C3bEohMafbACEwYBhgL/s400/el%2Btemplo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The children seem to be holding a model of the church being built. Next time I will see if Mother remembers this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DUJHiSael0k/XKzDhWPhkjI/AAAAAAAAVNo/pngPFYKyBgEEQFkEbOVK3A1A0SSYumlKgCEwYBhgL/s1600/DVBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="893" height="323" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DUJHiSael0k/XKzDhWPhkjI/AAAAAAAAVNo/pngPFYKyBgEEQFkEbOVK3A1A0SSYumlKgCEwYBhgL/s640/DVBS.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In my search for more resources, I wrote to my cousin who has access to the family archives. Kae is an archivist herself. She enlisted her mother's help. Aunt Fae wrote a very timely note:</div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #212121;">As I am going through the diary for Rita’s book items, I came across this writing of Grandma’s—</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #212121;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><i>This is Sam’s birthday, and we planned to celebrate Daddy’s </i>[</span></span><span style="color: #212121; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: x-small;">Grandpa’s birthday was April 4.]</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #212121;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><i>and his together—were going to have ice cream after service,—but we got a telegram from the War Dept.,—stating &nbsp;Phil was missing in action &nbsp;since the 16th. </i>[<span style="font-size: x-small;">copied from the 1945-49 diary.]</span></span></span></div></blockquote>&nbsp;I imagine the planned party turned into a prayer meeting.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TH-UYCGC2hI/XKy39cbuvHI/AAAAAAAAVNA/w0F9jFf2In0E0VMHLsYd28JrpAXM091pQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Gma%2B%2526%2BGpa%2Bhirschy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="434" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TH-UYCGC2hI/XKy39cbuvHI/AAAAAAAAVNA/w0F9jFf2In0E0VMHLsYd28JrpAXM091pQCEwYBhgL/s400/Gma%2B%2526%2BGpa%2Bhirschy.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Esther and Norman Hirschy (my grandparents)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The diary contained a note about the previous day, Sunday:</div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #212121;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Sunday—Sam played two &nbsp;numbers on his new horn in church.</span></i></span></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><span style="color: #212121;">&nbsp;</span><span style="color: #212121;">They were having special services with Ralph Stoll. &nbsp; &nbsp;This is when they learned the chorus ,”I Believe the Answer’s on the Way”.</span><span style="background-color: transparent;">&nbsp;</span></span></i></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, their prayers were answered. Uncle Phil came back to them, having narrowly escaped death, and lived a good long life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I realized this week that I never knew any great grandparents, yet so many in our circle of friends and acquaintances do. We ourselves are blessed to have a great granddaughter. We treasure every opportunity to spend with her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I usually pick her up and taker her to a community children's program at our church Wednesday evenings. This time <i>abuelo </i>brought her to our house first<i>. </i>She is growing up so fast, not soon enough for her, though. Rebecca says she wants to be five like her friend Sophie. She didn't quite understand that in the same month Sophie will be six!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1MVBQ3my62M/XKy39cLiR-I/AAAAAAAAVNA/wW52psUXywI29tFxFR6Vv1RpQfhO7ojLgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Rebecca%2Bnachos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="314" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1MVBQ3my62M/XKy39cLiR-I/AAAAAAAAVNA/wW52psUXywI29tFxFR6Vv1RpQfhO7ojLgCEwYBhgL/s320/Rebecca%2Bnachos.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Friday, I had a delightful time as the <i>mystery reader</i>&nbsp;in Zion's third grade. I introduced them to the oldest truly American picture book--<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Millions_of_Cats">Millions of Cats</a></i>.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W6T4osQL8-0/XKzx6JeKCoI/AAAAAAAAVOo/iHjPejX2ip0a47tAdSSy90HDsjn9t1_RgCLcBGAs/s1600/330px-Wanda_Gag_Millions_of_Cats-book_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="228" data-original-width="329" height="221" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W6T4osQL8-0/XKzx6JeKCoI/AAAAAAAAVOo/iHjPejX2ip0a47tAdSSy90HDsjn9t1_RgCLcBGAs/s320/330px-Wanda_Gag_Millions_of_Cats-book_cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Zion told his mom all about it and summarized the story like this:</div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Millions of kittens and the humble kitten was the most beautiful of all!</i></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The reading and talk about old books that have remained popular, segwayed perfectly into the teacher's story of one of her favorite old books that has come to her after many years with the library card signed out to her more than once.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GuDQDd-yTeM/XKzC0CHZagI/AAAAAAAAVNQ/eBVjp4tOtNoLIW9U5lyzgcQbQX5uIZdrQCEwYBhgL/s1600/thumbnail_56252736_10100746864446076_3165222165066809344_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="1280" height="244" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GuDQDd-yTeM/XKzC0CHZagI/AAAAAAAAVNQ/eBVjp4tOtNoLIW9U5lyzgcQbQX5uIZdrQCEwYBhgL/s640/thumbnail_56252736_10100746864446076_3165222165066809344_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another memorable event of the week was a baby dedication. Sharon and I travelled to Edinburgh about an hour and 40 minutes away to support our young friend Trisha as she dedicated her son and commits to raising him to know and follow Jesus.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S1NykYYHvl0/XKy4AK9GnGI/AAAAAAAAVNE/PJFGgQCB8vEnceq9r-NM6_l7K59-g4L5ACEwYBhgL/s1600/56549538_10100748045993246_2231962283162992640_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="960" height="233" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S1NykYYHvl0/XKy4AK9GnGI/AAAAAAAAVNE/PJFGgQCB8vEnceq9r-NM6_l7K59-g4L5ACEwYBhgL/s320/56549538_10100748045993246_2231962283162992640_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharon Ewband and me, holding Jackson.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzOk-N-3l_4/XKy39VKbCpI/AAAAAAAAVM0/Wt_TagghXJ0l884SWmYKTgCZJeTk2Ba4gCLcBGAs/s1600/56556981_10100748328586926_4551454900306837504_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="857" height="340" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzOk-N-3l_4/XKy39VKbCpI/AAAAAAAAVM0/Wt_TagghXJ0l884SWmYKTgCZJeTk2Ba4gCLcBGAs/s640/56556981_10100748328586926_4551454900306837504_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trisha family support system</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;The couple standing behind Trisha were her foster parents when she was very young. Over a period of 14 years they fostered 41 children and still stay in touch with several. Their daughter continues the family example. Some of the little ones in the photo have come through the system. God bless their faithful service.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/TdQvdU9xEls" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> Looking to the Heavens https://danlfullercountrywriter.wordpress.com/2019/04/03/looking-to-the-heavens/ Dan L Fuller Country Writer urn:uuid:e75e628b-0648-e46e-d9ad-8d56c88fca7f Wed, 03 Apr 2019 01:30:53 -0400 I am always amazed when looking at a clear night sky. It makes me feel small to realize that I am just one speck on one tiny planet in one large galaxy among a huge sea of millions of  galaxies in a vast, limitless space. I have observed it from my yard, from campgrounds and mountains and &#8230; <a href="https://danlfullercountrywriter.wordpress.com/2019/04/03/looking-to-the-heavens/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Looking to the&#160;Heavens</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="335" data-permalink="https://danlfullercountrywriter.wordpress.com/2019/04/03/looking-to-the-heavens/milky-way-984050_640/" data-orig-file="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg?w=676" data-orig-size="640,359" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="milky-way-984050_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg?w=676?w=300" data-large-file="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg?w=676?w=640" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-335" src="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg?w=676" alt="milky-way-984050_640" srcset="https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg 640w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg?w=150 150w, https://danlfullercountrywriter.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/milky-way-984050_640.jpg?w=300 300w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px" /></p> <p>I am always amazed when looking at a clear night sky. It makes me feel small to realize that I am just one speck on one tiny planet in one large galaxy among a huge sea of millions of  galaxies in a vast, limitless space.</p> <p>I have observed it from my yard, from campgrounds and mountains and marveled at the haze of the Milky Way, holding more stars and galaxies than can be counted. I have read and heard theories from the Big Bang to evolution. Yet, when I gaze at the heavens, I have a sense of the presence of God the Creator.</p> <p>Did the writers of the Bible know something that many scientists are just beginning to recognize&#8211;intelligent design?</p> <p>My Old Testament History professor, Dr. Gustav Jenninga, served on several archeological digs in the Holy Land. He noted that for most of their early history, the Israelites were wanderers, farmers and shepherds who spent a great deal of time outdoors. They had time to observe the movement of the stars. They were constantly aware of the wonders of God&#8217;s creation. They witnessed miracles in their forty-year odyssey in the desert.</p> <p>It does seem that there is a higher percentage of believers among country people even today. Maybe it&#8217;s easier for us than for those in the cities who can only see the steel and concrete of man-made objects.</p> <p>Give it a try. Get out to a State or National Park, a seashore, the Great Plains or a mountain meadow and &#8220;Look to the Heavens.&#8221;</p> <p>&#8220;Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these (the stars)? He who brings out their host by number, calling them by name, by the greatness of his might, and because he is strong in power, not one is missing.&#8221;  Isaiah 40:26 (ESV)</p> Last Winter Blast https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/04/last-winter-blast.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:23bcb2da-88ca-6c97-9b0c-6bac52173824 Tue, 02 Apr 2019 10:33:25 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ayUt7BxRANg/XKKIRkSjScI/AAAAAAAAVK4/N0eUDxxQrNoe3dUBSYKWcIheQ8AvpAt2ACEwYBhgL/s1600/56178676_10100744536526246_9015183865232228352_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="712" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ayUt7BxRANg/XKKIRkSjScI/AAAAAAAAVK4/N0eUDxxQrNoe3dUBSYKWcIheQ8AvpAt2ACEwYBhgL/s320/56178676_10100744536526246_9015183865232228352_n.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><br />Our week ended with a sudden blanket of snow, one last glimpse of winter beauty lest we forget in the euphoria of spring blossoms and scents.<br /><br />The most powerful memory that surfaced this week was the anniversary of the horrendous accident our grandson Malachi suffered March 24, 1918.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RwGwkn7cUA4/XKLoje3rj_I/AAAAAAAAVLQ/kw5ZtemQltIjE0T3Wf8FEsqOU-EZMknDgCEwYBhgL/s1600/54728435_10161657086720594_3998663875980427264_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="360" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RwGwkn7cUA4/XKLoje3rj_I/AAAAAAAAVLQ/kw5ZtemQltIjE0T3Wf8FEsqOU-EZMknDgCEwYBhgL/s320/54728435_10161657086720594_3998663875980427264_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Son Sam, ever intentional to remember anniversaries of God's gracious goodness, wrote:</span><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Hard to believe it’s been a year, it’s been a whirlwind! This day was by far the scariest and hardest day of my life and yet a day filled with the hope and peace that only comes from the Holy Spirit. Not to mention the amount of support and prayers we received that were absolutely felt and tangible......So thankful looking back for our older sons and the work God has done in their lives since then. I am humbled</i></span></span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The event was complicated by younger brother Elijah's skateboarding accident within the same hour!</span></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TG6AU6FuRuA/XKLoja6hd-I/AAAAAAAAVLU/_USneyT2zQceUy9AkPIAiWz5LZ6KPPkNgCEwYBhgL/s1600/54522896_10161656975430594_4337600489999826944_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TG6AU6FuRuA/XKLoja6hd-I/AAAAAAAAVLU/_USneyT2zQceUy9AkPIAiWz5LZ6KPPkNgCEwYBhgL/s400/54522896_10161656975430594_4337600489999826944_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">God's presence, grace, protection and healing covered our family, like the blanket of snow abundant and beautiful.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">A year later, the family is intact and active. And there is the promise of a new member--Malachi's fiancé, Lexi Meacham (above lower right).</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O8Dl7syL9u4/XKLojb5FSEI/AAAAAAAAVLY/o8OHwTwYS9wXI1bgLFmeJBf8SJGYVcU5QCEwYBhgL/s1600/46137512_10215333637347231_2877741419622039552_o%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="925" data-original-width="1389" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O8Dl7syL9u4/XKLojb5FSEI/AAAAAAAAVLY/o8OHwTwYS9wXI1bgLFmeJBf8SJGYVcU5QCEwYBhgL/s640/46137512_10215333637347231_2877741419622039552_o%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another anniversary remembered--Tuesday the 26th, Jimmy's 45th birthday. I love this photo of Papaw with his favorite little person.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kMVS4c51xAY/XKLyiGuOlCI/AAAAAAAAVLg/YHjXcPqZgXcqDitsa8hqbgMnoui9PFtDQCLcBGAs/s1600/27867539_10155371717777934_6415143169649394872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kMVS4c51xAY/XKLyiGuOlCI/AAAAAAAAVLg/YHjXcPqZgXcqDitsa8hqbgMnoui9PFtDQCLcBGAs/s320/27867539_10155371717777934_6415143169649394872_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday, we introduced Moriah to a movie that stood out in our list of meaningful thought-provoking films. How many have seen <i>The Mission</i>? If so, what was your reaction?</span></span><br /><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">For me it has the added attraction of taking place in Northern Argentina, in the area of Iguazú falls.</span></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pAa-LKa06Bo/XKLzSKpoAlI/AAAAAAAAVLo/xqgVv_3fHroEDscUHnV9d5TeWYChiXc1ACEwYBhgL/s1600/The_Mission_%25281986_film_poster%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="254" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pAa-LKa06Bo/XKLzSKpoAlI/AAAAAAAAVLo/xqgVv_3fHroEDscUHnV9d5TeWYChiXc1ACEwYBhgL/s400/The_Mission_%25281986_film_poster%2529.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sunday evening we enjoyed a meal with our home group from church. There is so much to learn and gain from sharing in community. We love getting to know these friends. And Michael's idea of a potato and ice cream bar was perfect. Everyone brought a topping for each, and a favorite ice cream.</span></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Son "</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">Chef"&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">Stephan's directions for the perfect baked potatoes worked beautifully.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hAFFwkrJ8IY/XKLzhbOhJ8I/AAAAAAAAVLw/9HELcST_DqQEvjBFY9XaeG9JsJjXqQvwwCLcBGAs/s1600/Home%2BGroup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="647" height="362" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hAFFwkrJ8IY/XKLzhbOhJ8I/AAAAAAAAVLw/9HELcST_DqQEvjBFY9XaeG9JsJjXqQvwwCLcBGAs/s640/Home%2BGroup.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thus ended the month of March, one quarter of the year, and another page of my sticker calendar complete!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dc2PuP62hz8/XKLzwIrdXlI/AAAAAAAAVL8/--kkRDJaCrYCANR55xPygYtfrw5tucwnACLcBGAs/s1600/55882373_10100744536481336_1217926989978009600_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="943" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dc2PuP62hz8/XKLzwIrdXlI/AAAAAAAAVL8/--kkRDJaCrYCANR55xPygYtfrw5tucwnACLcBGAs/s320/55882373_10100744536481336_1217926989978009600_n.jpg" width="314" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/KhbS_nKyXro" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> Poetry of Disability https://angieknight.wordpress.com/2019/03/30/poetry-of-disability/ Invisible Issues urn:uuid:9a8f2422-be94-46be-a48c-0b109aa4ef40 Sat, 30 Mar 2019 21:45:38 -0400 As Disability, MS, and other similar Awareness Months draw to a close, I thought this would be an appropriate time to share a in a different way. Describing how MS really affects me can prove difficult, outside of a list of concrete symptoms. So how does one communicate this? How about poetry? National Poetry Month begins &#8230; <a href="https://angieknight.wordpress.com/2019/03/30/poetry-of-disability/" class="more-link">Continue reading<span class="screen-reader-text"> "Poetry of Disability"</span></a> Spring Cycles https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/03/spring-cycles.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:3aa7afee-176f-9004-5c95-3ec3ac8e3e60 Tue, 26 Mar 2019 14:21:59 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Last week a strain of flu hit our little town so hard that the elementary school was closed for two days. In our home we've experienced sickness for over a week. First it hit Michael quite hard, the full-blown sinus head cold and cough. Several days later I succumbed to a head cold that kept me in this weekend.<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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7svWscfHQpU/XJgMdoFIMaI/AAAAAAAAVI0/5ufGXQnLoGoFdLnRVWJEdr1fjUm8iSdqACLcBGAs/s1600/54800083_10100740501856756_930121098329063424_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="591" height="273" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7svWscfHQpU/XJgMdoFIMaI/AAAAAAAAVI0/5ufGXQnLoGoFdLnRVWJEdr1fjUm8iSdqACLcBGAs/s320/54800083_10100740501856756_930121098329063424_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First blooms of spring</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />As memories of years gone by popped up on Facebook, I recognized the recurrence of illness this time of year.<br /><br />Other occurrences are cyclical. This is robotics competition season. Team 1720, the PhyXTGears out of Muncie, participated in its second district event and ended up in second place!<br />Our cute little robot performed its role consistently, placing hatch panels, loading cargo, and especially climbing to the third level during the end game. (See game animation: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mew6G_og-PI">Destination : Deep Space</a>.)<br /><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RR4X1pR0l_k/XJpGDR0crRI/AAAAAAAAVKI/yR8q87tcfmk-LPi_ibWgqI2mlcH_bqiCwCLcBGAs/s1600/53485352_10161614642340652_5353171603360317440_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1401" data-original-width="1552" height="288" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RR4X1pR0l_k/XJpGDR0crRI/AAAAAAAAVKI/yR8q87tcfmk-LPi_ibWgqI2mlcH_bqiCwCLcBGAs/s320/53485352_10161614642340652_5353171603360317440_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Space Walrus</td></tr></tbody></table>Michael, heavily invested in the process, was well enough by then to participate fully. I had planned to join him at the Tippecanoe event, but those were the worst two days of my bout with the spring cold, so I watched the live stream, kept score, and yelled or cheered at the right times. (If no one can hear, does that still count?)<br /><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHdyyJ6tvk8/XJpJJIpN0RI/AAAAAAAAVKU/2C-8uMTDW0sHIgYskRdwJppSQjW7UcoHACLcBGAs/s1600/Pick%2BMentor%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHdyyJ6tvk8/XJpJJIpN0RI/AAAAAAAAVKU/2C-8uMTDW0sHIgYskRdwJppSQjW7UcoHACLcBGAs/s640/Pick%2BMentor%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left:Fans in the stands; the pit.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Right: Lead mentor being interviewed<br />Can you find 5 Kochs in the stands???</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>A different view of success was offered in a note by the winning team:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">In the after the ending of the semi-finals matches, our team was ecstatic to be going to the finals at our</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">&nbsp;</span><strong style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">FIRST</strong><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">ever competition. We continued to enter into our first match, place two hatches, then the right side of our drive failed, we were dead in the water. We won the match off a red card which is in no way the way I want to win a match. At the end of said match we called our timeout, we assumed it was a small problem but the E-clip and flanged bearing on AM toughbox&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">mini broke. So we thought we could fix it in time for the second match. We were wrong. The second match ended and then because of <b>1720</b>, 461, and 6498’s <b>gracious professionalism</b> they called a timeout for us to finish the repairs. We went on to win the third match and thus the event. These 3 teams demonstrated the great aspects of FIRST and we cannot appreciate it more. I would be more than happy to work with any of these teams in the future. Thank you once more.</span></i></span></blockquote>Between matches I was immersed in reading letters and taking notes (blowing my nose and drinking water). I may have come to a gap in the archival resources--no correspondence for years 1947-1949. Hmmmmm. . . What next?<br /><br />Meanwhile I came upon a treasure from 50 years later. March 1, 1996, my parents began to write daily notes in a fancy diary somone must have gifted them. The quote at the bottom of each page says:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>Without anything special but write it down is better than with something special but never write it down. Sweet and tender memories are also the trace of past time.</i>&nbsp;</blockquote>The entries remained faithful for over a year and even covered a return trip to Argentina in December of 1997, Dad and Mother's last time back. I was privileged to go along with Ivan's family.<br />I do look forward to continue gleaning from this diary. But for now, in the early March entries, I learned (or was reminded) that Dad had his heart check-up almost two years after a heart attack in June 1994.<br />&nbsp;</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f13d52EIBr0/XJgMaNkZxUI/AAAAAAAAVI4/Ltve4qKkl7QssfsfhbpB3j_seQntFN-ZACEwYBhgL/s1600/53809455_10100739048803686_742021394988007424_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="819" data-original-width="525" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f13d52EIBr0/XJgMaNkZxUI/AAAAAAAAVI4/Ltve4qKkl7QssfsfhbpB3j_seQntFN-ZACEwYBhgL/s320/53809455_10100739048803686_742021394988007424_n.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Another event this week that brought Argentina-memories to the forefront--the arrival of M/V LOGOS HOPE in Bahía Blanca on the 19th. Feel the excitement of the crowds waiting on the quayside in this <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ritadorene/videos/pcb.10100739465368886/10100739465199226/?type=3&amp;theater">video</a>, and notice the strong wind, common in ports. Many of them, like us, would have memories of when the M/V Doulos was there.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mVsoUpVl34/XJgShfMNbzI/AAAAAAAAVJE/xd_cg0iSu9IXK0p3nudI6hkeRwWOm-TRgCLcBGAs/s1600/54433405_10100739465209206_7269690228216954880_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="551" data-original-width="961" height="366" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mVsoUpVl34/XJgShfMNbzI/AAAAAAAAVJE/xd_cg0iSu9IXK0p3nudI6hkeRwWOm-TRgCLcBGAs/s640/54433405_10100739465209206_7269690228216954880_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hcNMt76zlF8/XJgShlmB4YI/AAAAAAAAVJM/ctWXLfCf_okriFmPDvSNU5hoW6RAZbbVgCLcBGAs/s1600/54728293_2193827537332285_5807943335028981760_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hcNMt76zlF8/XJgShlmB4YI/AAAAAAAAVJM/ctWXLfCf_okriFmPDvSNU5hoW6RAZbbVgCLcBGAs/s640/54728293_2193827537332285_5807943335028981760_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Wednesday, the 20th, was my friend Femia's birthday. I call her my Mayan twin. I met her for the first time fourteen years ago when I traveled to Yucatán with The King's Academy on their Servant Safari trip. (Can you find us in the group photo?)<br />I was privileged to go back to her village, Xocenpich,&nbsp; four more times. The last time was to attend her son Ted's wedding. A couple weeks ago he called to say that his family was moving to Argentina!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nb9zkSJhOSU/XJgSiMbhTsI/AAAAAAAAVJU/xYllKEKFrjYkE31etPEMW1-0kbK7_rxDQCLcBGAs/s1600/Femia%2Bbd%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1600" height="462" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nb9zkSJhOSU/XJgSiMbhTsI/AAAAAAAAVJU/xYllKEKFrjYkE31etPEMW1-0kbK7_rxDQCLcBGAs/s640/Femia%2Bbd%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Mid week I needed to visit Mother, attend a care plan conference and accompany her to the dermatologist. I prayed that I would be well enough and not have to postpone the appointments, so I was grateful indeed to be there. Wish I had captured her first big surprised-to-see-me smile.<br />All reports are good. They appreciate her sweet spirit, her smile, and wish there were more Kathryns! She remains active, involved in whatever they have going on there as well as faithfully going to the Art Studio.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z44eJP4UAfM/XJgSpH9JMnI/AAAAAAAAVJY/AMn6piqlUoQIJh65441fvGBfXPNCUPLawCLcBGAs/s1600/54522069_10100740502545376_4673055728083140608_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="474" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z44eJP4UAfM/XJgSpH9JMnI/AAAAAAAAVJY/AMn6piqlUoQIJh65441fvGBfXPNCUPLawCLcBGAs/s400/54522069_10100740502545376_4673055728083140608_n.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The bonus that day was the Spring Fling, a musical program for the residents featuring "The Singing Cowboy"--&nbsp;<a href="https://www.johnbahlermusic.com/john-bahler/hand-me-down-new">John Bahler</a>, the son-in-law of our very good friends the Cratons! What a delightful time listening to old music so skillfully performed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KbSItX-NaCU/XJgSpBO_kuI/AAAAAAAAVJc/nF-YjaS_6HAYfkZDhe54k9UEJkfGG34iQCLcBGAs/s1600/55560425_10100740502919626_8110960513459945472_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="526" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KbSItX-NaCU/XJgSpBO_kuI/AAAAAAAAVJc/nF-YjaS_6HAYfkZDhe54k9UEJkfGG34iQCLcBGAs/s400/55560425_10100740502919626_8110960513459945472_n.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Those are my week's memories and memorable moments. What about your week?</div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/ffNelPvtAv4" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> Sleep-deprived but Happy https://onflesherpond.com/2019/03/25/sleep-deprived-but-happy/ On Flesher Pond urn:uuid:a5b1060c-3f2b-b841-c1a0-df086940c164 Mon, 25 Mar 2019 07:11:43 -0400 I don’t know what day it is again. I escaped the polar vortex wind-chills in Indiana by flying across the country to Seattle, today sunny and seventy. It’s not supposed to be this beautiful until summer, but there it is. A week of heaven on earth. Coming from flat corn fields, the snow-covered mountains always &#8230; <a href="https://onflesherpond.com/2019/03/25/sleep-deprived-but-happy/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Sleep-deprived but Happy</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a> <p>I don’t know what day it is again. I escaped the polar vortex wind-chills in Indiana by flying across the country to Seattle, today sunny and seventy. It’s not supposed to be this beautiful until summer, but there it is. A week of heaven on earth.</p> <p>Coming from flat corn fields, the snow-covered mountains always take my breath, and then I gawk again at Mt. Ranier, the highest in the Cascades. I’ve been flying out here for eighteen years, and it still stuns as a lone spectacle. The air is different in the Pacific Northwest – the latitude, rainforest, saltwater, and mountains – and I feel sure that this invigorating healthy atmosphere is adding years to my life.</p> <p>Hiking up Little Si; Seattle Aquarium with the Puget Sound flowing in and out of the outer tanks; Pike’s Place or orca whale watching – all things tourist must take a back seat this trip. I have babies to see to.</p> <p>Newborn twin boys have kept me busy this week. I walk the 23 steps between kitchen, dining, and Baby-Central living room where my 4 a.m. shift begins. Back and forth, heating bottles filled with vitamin-rich formula added to mama’s milk, changing diapers, fixing breakfast for three-and-a half-year-old Big Brother who sweetly asks, “Would you please put the baby down and help me now?”</p> <p>I scoot Marbles off the couch, the heaviest ball of fur I’ve ever seen; and intelligent, trustworthy golden retriever Ranger nearly wags his tail off as he slips in a forbidden lick to the milk running down baby’s cheek. There’s all kind of happy here.</p> <p>Mom is sleep-deprived and still smiling, and dad, who has taken several all night shifts this week, sleepwalks through his day while running his own business. Even fifteen-year-old Steady Son offers to babysit while the parents run to the grocery.</p> <p>Born two months early at three-and-a-half pounds, the twins are now eight pounds of sacred wonder. Peaceful Merrick smiles at you so hard his eyes crinkle. He is Darling Angel. Wyatt, the older by two minutes, grunts, groans, and carries on so long and loud that I laugh. He will be Strong Protector. These perfect little boys, alive for ten weeks now, have enlarged our hearts by magnitudes. </p> <p>A newborn’s rhythm takes a mom down to the core of what’s important: meeting the basic needs of the defenseless, providing safety and shelter, all with a love so deep it aches. Parents live on a simple plane for long months, and then suddenly infancy is over. Baby, like Big Brother, wants to take matters into his own hands. </p> <p>The second week I drive up the road twelve miles to watch three-year-old grandson daredevil on his little scooter, and help Mother Abby sort through tubs of baby clothes while we await another precious this summer. If I ever move, it will be to Edmonds, Washington. The historic downtown, a few blocks from the ferry, is often filled with tourists and unfamiliar languages, but still feels homey and quiet. Volunteers spruce up garden spaces along the sidewalks, store owners put out water dishes for the walked dogs, and flower baskets hang on every corner and then some. I’ve never seen a prettier town. Out my bedroom window the Olympic Mountains beckon across Puget Sound while soothing train whistles day and night fill this magical air. Three weeks here isn’t long enough.</p> <p>I’m a happy grandma in Pacific Northwest Paradise, but Sam just called from Indiana and said it snowed again.</p> The Splendid Work of Writing https://lindaktaylor.com/2019/03/22/the-splendid-work-of-writing/ Linda Taylor: Writer, Editor, Speaker urn:uuid:eabeae87-1b40-00e3-e55e-e0d17b182644 Fri, 22 Mar 2019 14:30:24 -0400 I&#8217;ve been reading the essays of author Andre Dubus, considered a master of the short form. In his book, Meditations from a Movable Chair (New York: Vintage, 1999), Dubus writes an essay called &#8220;First Books&#8221; and offers this encouragement to writers: An older writer knows what a younger one has not yet learned. What is demanding and [&#8230;] March Memories https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/03/march-memories.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:c7408ed6-bac8-6875-badf-48969d0a8118 Tue, 19 Mar 2019 13:24:11 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>This post highlights moments of the week more than memories from the past.<br />Each day counts. The things we experience add up. Daily incremental steps toward a set goal become a beautiful whole in time.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I am reminded of the value of <i>dailyness</i>&nbsp;by the calendar my neighbor friends gave me. I enjoy the challenge of locating and correctly placing the stickers for each day. So much so that I decided to make that my reward for accomplishing a writing goal for the day.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bwgp7QDqS3w/XJEAO5LfkGI/AAAAAAAAVHw/BfG8NfehOd4QKYM6unUsUNTGN6oCvpE0gCLcBGAs/s1600/54256104_10100739310264716_4463421595590852608_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="453" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bwgp7QDqS3w/XJEAO5LfkGI/AAAAAAAAVHw/BfG8NfehOd4QKYM6unUsUNTGN6oCvpE0gCLcBGAs/s400/54256104_10100739310264716_4463421595590852608_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The gift was inspired by large sticker-replica of a Van Gogh they saw hanging in a doctor's office.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r4i-BnBp7hw/XJBCKlwZcVI/AAAAAAAAVHA/sO9fVIe7BMsXAhAzNE4Co9DTV8HgABmsQCEwYBhgL/s1600/54268226_10100739188927876_6103587232755482624_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="619" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r4i-BnBp7hw/XJBCKlwZcVI/AAAAAAAAVHA/sO9fVIe7BMsXAhAzNE4Co9DTV8HgABmsQCEwYBhgL/s320/54268226_10100739188927876_6103587232755482624_n.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Daughter Leah and I enjoyed a Coffee and Canvas event in our local coffee shop. Her paintings are always more intense, fanciful and rich in texture. Mine tend to be flat. What do you think mine lacks--a bug, a butterfly, greater contrast . . . ?<br />The best part of the experience was the togetherness. We hadn't seen one another in a while. She has not been able to attend our weekly art club in some time.<br /><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHvydQdso-A/XJEGjRsxS4I/AAAAAAAAVH8/5vXSpch92nYXisnoENKQjo49XGuVjfkCQCLcBGAs/s1600/canvas%2Band%2Bart%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1238" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHvydQdso-A/XJEGjRsxS4I/AAAAAAAAVH8/5vXSpch92nYXisnoENKQjo49XGuVjfkCQCLcBGAs/s640/canvas%2Band%2Bart%2BCollage.jpg" width="494" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Leah and her Coffee and Canvas acrylic (top)<br />My Coffee &amp; Canvas painting, and art club watercolor exercise--"Surreal Mountains"<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">My, how the years go by! Son Stephan, our oldest, </span><i style="text-align: left;">completed </i><span style="text-align: left;">(as they say in Spanish) </span><span style="text-align: left;">48 years on March 12!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IZ845bICqAE/XJBAhe5T7FI/AAAAAAAAVGw/EvzXg-rhLCIGTsJ1y-_uKqPY-v1gXYeiQCEwYBhgL/s1600/55624186_10100739048853586_9058416911544483840_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="719" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IZ845bICqAE/XJBAhe5T7FI/AAAAAAAAVGw/EvzXg-rhLCIGTsJ1y-_uKqPY-v1gXYeiQCEwYBhgL/s320/55624186_10100739048853586_9058416911544483840_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A memory from Stephan's 40th celebration</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunday we celebrated March birthdays.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8YAfCvLkYs/XJBAjNCI_GI/AAAAAAAAVG0/zrf25lfEaBIw03kIw6XoEApQ0sPHRw4-ACEwYBhgL/s1600/54257869_10100739098204686_6708989454679277568_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="805" data-original-width="1295" height="396" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8YAfCvLkYs/XJBAjNCI_GI/AAAAAAAAVG0/zrf25lfEaBIw03kIw6XoEApQ0sPHRw4-ACEwYBhgL/s640/54257869_10100739098204686_6708989454679277568_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Stephan </b>(48 on the 12th ), <b>Jimmy </b>(45 on the 26th), <b>Destiny</b>, Skye's girlfriend (18 on the 7th)</td></tr></tbody></table>Family times are always fun. Jokes and laughter abound. Rebecca as the only little one around, entertained us in various ways. Her presence is still felt every time I come upstairs to the loft, my writing area, and see the arrangement of items on and around the ark.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K72ZiaHZzHc/XJBGyzTP3xI/AAAAAAAAVHk/48-dwqeYX0YNRtyfZE_yIITTgugFnG4oQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Rebecca%2Bfun%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1449" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K72ZiaHZzHc/XJBGyzTP3xI/AAAAAAAAVHk/48-dwqeYX0YNRtyfZE_yIITTgugFnG4oQCEwYBhgL/s400/Rebecca%2Bfun%2BCollage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Sam's family was missing. He had surgery earlier this month--sinus repair and tonsilectomy. Interestingly, the worst pain hits a week later.<br />I stopped by a couple days after the procedure to drop off some honey to soothe the throat. Malachi was still home on spring break. He is really into board games and was sharing his latest find--<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Asmodee-SPL01-Splendor/dp/B00IZEUFIA/ref=sr_1_3?hvadid=174282641197&amp;hvdev=c&amp;hvlocphy=9016403&amp;hvnetw=g&amp;hvpos=1t1&amp;hvqmt=e&amp;hvrand=17391601653449121831&amp;hvtargid=aud-649564993678%3Akwd-81996710487&amp;keywords=splendor+board+game&amp;qid=1553010560&amp;s=gateway&amp;sr=8-3&amp;tag=googhydr-20">Splendor</a>.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5L0DCeqrCag/XJEPxBASvEI/AAAAAAAAVII/S13Wbp_JjjMbqzwHh0l6alU1zk2lNjLyACLcBGAs/s1600/54437490_10100739336701736_533628709907726336_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1440" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5L0DCeqrCag/XJEPxBASvEI/AAAAAAAAVII/S13Wbp_JjjMbqzwHh0l6alU1zk2lNjLyACLcBGAs/s640/54437490_10100739336701736_533628709907726336_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>&nbsp;Recently I've been reminded of a favorite author I was privileged to meet years ago. In her 80's, widowed, and healing from a broken leg, she is still writing and winning awards! I dug out her book of life stories to remember her secret. It is something that stood out when I read that first chapter long ago. I wish I had heeded her example at that time. Early on she determined to write, write, write, every. single. day, and not be distracted by the many recommended opportunities--conferences, critique groups, etc. It worked for her!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bI6gbgLBCy8/XI_xnqZW79I/AAAAAAAAVGY/dkNXWhnGCr8IW_MYHe6VM0aFEVQlx-0lwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Stories-of-My-Life-198x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="198" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bI6gbgLBCy8/XI_xnqZW79I/AAAAAAAAVGY/dkNXWhnGCr8IW_MYHe6VM0aFEVQlx-0lwCEwYBhgL/s400/Stories-of-My-Life-198x300.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am blessed to meet every week with a wonderful group of writer friends. But I also recognize that for too long I've been a <i>wannabee</i>, attending conferences, taking courses, etc. and putting off the most important. These were all very good. However, now I am encouraged to keep on plodding through the letters and the memories, pulling out pertinent quotes and information, and arranging them into the narrative about my life in Argentina, and to write, write, write.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/GileY1JlPcc" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> Hank the Cowdog in the Hall of Fame http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/18/hank-the-cowdog-in-the-hall-of-fame/ PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author urn:uuid:b3424a9d-33ba-91a5-3346-f88f83c5a56a Mon, 18 Mar 2019 18:17:10 -0400 <p>Hank the Cowdog has been a lot of places including the Hall of Fame. Inducted into the Texas Literary Hall of Fame is one of my favorite authors ever. John Erickson is the creator of the unparalleled Hank the Cowdog series. Who exactly is Hank? He’s a smelly, smart-aleck Head of Ranch Security, and USA Today calls Hank [&#8230;]</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/18/hank-the-cowdog-in-the-hall-of-fame/">Hank the Cowdog in the Hall of Fame</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> <p><a href="http://www.hankthecowdog.com/">Hank the Cowdog</a> has been a lot of places including the Hall of Fame.</p> <p>Inducted into the Texas Literary Hall of Fame is one of my favorite authors ever. John Erickson is the creator of the unparalleled Hank the Cowdog series. Who exactly is Hank?</p> <p>He’s a smelly, smart-aleck Head of Ranch Security, and <em>USA Today</em> calls <a href="http://www.hankthecowdog.com/author" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><em>Hank the Cowdog</em></a> “the best family entertainment in years.” Through the eyes of Hank the Cowdog, author John Erickson gives readers a glimpse of daily life on a ranch in the West Texas Panhandle.</p> <p>The <a href="http://www.hankthecowdog.com/"><em>Hank the Cowdog</em></a> series began as a self-publishing venture in John Erickson’s garage in 1982 and endured to become one of the nation’s most popular series for children and families. Readers of all ages are fans of Hank and his pals. Children with ADD, ADHD, autism, and aspergers are particularly at ease in Hank&#8217;s adventures that each begin with, &#8220;It&#8217;s me again, Hank the Cowdog,&#8221; and end with, &#8220;Case closed.&#8221;</p> <p>Hear the story behind the stories in this interview with the slow-talking, modern-day cowboy, and Literary Hall of Famer, John Erickson.</p> <h2 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Interview with author of Hank the Cowdog, John Erickson.</strong></h2> <!--[if lt IE 9]><script>document.createElement('audio');</script><![endif]--> <audio class="wp-audio-shortcode" id="audio-7448-1" preload="none" style="width: 100%;" controls="controls"><source type="audio/mpeg" src="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/MM20151103.mp3?_=1" /><a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/MM20151103.mp3">http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/MM20151103.mp3</a></audio> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>The more than 60 adventures of <a href="http://www.hankthecowdog.com/">Hank the Cowdog</a> are available through the library and at Hank&#8217;s website.</p> <p>For a list of my favorite books and authors, click <a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2016/01/07/book-besties-2/">HERE.</a></p> <p><a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Chasing-Sunrise-jpg.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-thumbnail wp-image-7225" src="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Chasing-Sunrise-jpg-150x150.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="150" srcset="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Chasing-Sunrise-jpg-150x150.jpg 150w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Chasing-Sunrise-jpg-66x66.jpg 66w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Chasing-Sunrise-jpg-500x500.jpg 500w, http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Chasing-Sunrise-jpg-100x100.jpg 100w" sizes="(max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px" /></a></p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <div> <div class="FlashlightEnabledImage"> <div class="Pj7 sLG XiG ZKv mix m1e"> <div> <div class="cropperWrapper block"> <div class="relative"> <div class="cropSection absolute"> <div> <div class="cropperHandle absolute ord-ne"></div> <div class="cropperHandle absolute ord-sw"></div> <div class="cropperHandle absolute ord-se"></div> </div> </div> <div class="shadowOverlay absolute"> <div class="shadowMask absolute"></div> <div class="shadowMask absolute"></div> <div class="shadowMask absolute"></div> </div> <div class="absolute cropperAdditional"> <div class="spotlightWrapper absolute"> <div class="Pj7 sLG XiG pJI INd m1e"> <div class="spotlightDot bg-white"></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div> <div class="zI7 iyn Hsu"> <div class="XiG zI7 iyn Hsu"> <div> <div class="vbI XiG"> <div class="Yl- MIw Hb7" data-grid-item="true"> <div class="KO4 zI7 iyn Hsu"> <div class="XiG zI7 iyn Hsu"> <div class="PinRep Module Pin hasAttribution summary fullWidth" data-test-id="pin"> <div> <div class="pinWrapper" data-test-id="pinWrapper"> <div class="XiG zI7 iyn Hsu" data-test-id=""></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/18/hank-the-cowdog-in-the-hall-of-fame/">Hank the Cowdog in the Hall of Fame</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> “That week”… https://angieknight.wordpress.com/2019/03/17/that-week/ Invisible Issues urn:uuid:dff6ac24-1195-8481-66ce-0f818ca73db8 Sun, 17 Mar 2019 15:04:50 -0400 What am I talking about? Well, “MS Awareness Week,” March 10-16 2019, officially marked that week, though it seems repetitive to me. Every day, week, month I face symptoms of what has become my continuing journey. (Even though I managed to post this one day after the week ended, my daily  awareness level hasn&#8217;t changed. &#8230; <a href="https://angieknight.wordpress.com/2019/03/17/that-week/" class="more-link">Continue reading<span class="screen-reader-text"> "&#8220;That week&#8221;&#8230;"</span></a> Cliché Me Not https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/03/16/cliche-me-not/ Jody's Musings urn:uuid:f46651c7-2104-465f-5743-ee0c10c47184 Sat, 16 Mar 2019 11:43:33 -0400 Any writer worth their salt is told to avoid clichés like the plague. Yet sometimes this leaves authors caught between a rock and a hard place. Or the devil and the deep blue sea. In short, avoiding clichés might leave one feeling like the cat got their tongue. The funny thing about clichés is that &#8230; <a href="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/03/16/cliche-me-not/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Cliché Me Not</span></a> <p><img data-attachment-id="1160" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/03/16/cliche-me-not/writing-1209121_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg?w=665" data-orig-size="640,480" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="writing-1209121_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg?w=665?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg?w=665?w=640" class=" size-full wp-image-1160 aligncenter" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg?w=665" alt="writing-1209121_640" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg 640w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg?w=150 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/writing-1209121_640.jpg?w=300 300w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px" /></p> <p>Any writer worth their salt is told to avoid clichés like the plague. Yet sometimes this leaves authors caught between a rock and a hard place. Or the devil and the deep blue sea.</p> <p>In short, avoiding clichés might leave one feeling like the cat got their tongue.</p> <p>The funny thing about clichés is that they have been around so long, no one knows what they mean. We might know that it&#8217;s wrong to throw the baby out with the bath water, but what sort of flaky parent would?</p> <p>The cliché comes from the old-time practice of an entire family using the same bathwater for their yearly bath. First, dad bathed. Then mom. Then the kids in descending order of age. Last came baby. By then, the well-used water had reached a level of murkiness that made losing the baby in its dirty depths more understandable.</p> <p>Thank you, Lord, for modern plumbing. <img data-attachment-id="1158" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/03/16/cliche-me-not/bucket-159476_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=233&#038;h=200" data-orig-size="640,550" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="bucket-159476_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=233&#038;h=200?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=233&#038;h=200?w=640" class=" wp-image-1158 alignright" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=233&#038;h=200" alt="bucket-159476_640" width="233" height="200" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=233&amp;h=200 233w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=466&amp;h=400 466w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=150&amp;h=129 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/bucket-159476_640.png?w=300&amp;h=258 300w" sizes="(max-width: 233px) 100vw, 233px" /></p> <p>Other cliché&#8217;s origins are murkier than the bathwater. The cat stealing one&#8217;s tongue either originates from the &#8220;Cat-o’-nine-tails&#8221; whip used for naval punishment&#8211;or the ancient Egyptian custom of liars&#8217; tongues being fed to cats. Um, yum?</p> <p>Now, you might be wondering if I am as mad a hatter&#8211;an expression derived from the mercury-induced insanity suffered by hatters creating hat felt in the 17th and 18th centuries.</p> <p>I am not as crazy as a loon. To prove it, I have decided to offer up some suggestions for how to avoid clichés in one&#8217;s life.</p> <p>Cat got your Tongue&#8211;this old phrase is very easy to modernize, and the possibilities are endless. To put it into mathematical terms, cat=animal and tongue=body part. Why not, &#8220;Does the dog got your kidney?&#8221; Or, &#8220;Does the unicorn have your earlobes?&#8221; Maybe, &#8220;Has the aardvark got your left clavicle?&#8221;</p> <p>You&#8217;re welcome for providing this equation guaranteed to provide you with endless replacements for this tired old cliché.</p> <p>What about &#8220;They lived happily ever after.&#8221; Why can&#8217;t they live prosaically ever after, or tiredly ever after?</p> <p>Brave as a lion or weak as a kitten&#8230;has anyone else noticed a cat cliché trend? Anyhow, these tired old clichés will burst with new life after only a few minor changes. Exhausted as a newborn&#8217;s mother or flippant as a antelope.</p> <p>While these new clichés might make little sense, that isn&#8217;t the point. Stop being as critical as a rhinoceros.<img data-attachment-id="1159" data-permalink="https://jodystinson.wordpress.com/2019/03/16/cliche-me-not/rhino-3247846_640/#main" data-orig-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=337&#038;h=224" data-orig-size="640,426" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;8&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;NIKON D5200&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;98&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;200&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0.005&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}" data-image-title="rhino-3247846_640" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=337&#038;h=224?w=300" data-large-file="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=337&#038;h=224?w=640" class=" wp-image-1159 alignleft" src="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=337&#038;h=224" alt="rhino-3247846_640" width="337" height="224" srcset="https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=337&amp;h=224 337w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=150&amp;h=100 150w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg?w=300&amp;h=200 300w, https://jodystinson.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/rhino-3247846_640.jpg 640w" sizes="(max-width: 337px) 100vw, 337px" /></p> <p>All clichéing aside, some phrases remain more than clichés. Jesus died to save sinners. Do unto others as you want to be done unto yourself. Love God and others. These phrases go beyond cliché and are simply truths.</p> <p>Saying them will put you at no risk of having your tongue fed to a cat.</p> <p>&#8220;Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, even Christ.&#8221;  Ephesians 4:15</p> <p>Have you ever rewritten a cliché? Share in the comments.</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>&nbsp;</p> Gilded Age Comes to Life in Katelyn’s Choice http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/15/gilded-age-comes-to-life-in-katelyns-choice/ PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author urn:uuid:df1c21f9-c0cb-d206-f9dd-978818448622 Fri, 15 Mar 2019 06:32:45 -0400 <p>The Gilded Age comes to life in fellow author Susan G. Mathis&#8217; first novel of the Thousand Islands Series, called Katelyn’s Choice. Releasing on March 15th with Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas (LPC), I&#8217;m giving away a copy on my Facebook page. Simply comment on this post and you are in the drawing. Back Cover Copy Katelyn [&#8230;]</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/15/gilded-age-comes-to-life-in-katelyns-choice/">Gilded Age Comes to Life in Katelyn&#8217;s Choice</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> <p class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpFirst">The Gilded Age comes to life in fellow author Susan G. Mathis&#8217; first novel of the Thousand Islands Series, called <em>Katelyn’s Choice.</em> Releasing on March 15<sup>th </sup>with Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas (LPC), I&#8217;m giving away a copy on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/peggysue.wells">my Facebook page</a>. Simply comment on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/peggysue.wells">this post</a> and you are in the drawing.</p> <h2 class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Back Cover Copy</b></h2> <p class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Katelyn Kavanagh’s mother dreamed her daughter would one day escape the oppressive environment of their Upstate New York farm for service in the enchanting Thousand Islands, home to Gilded Age millionaires. But when her wish comes true, Katelyn finds herself in the service of none other than the famous George Pullman, and the transition proves anything but easy.</p> <p class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Thomas O’Neill, brother of her best friend, is all grown up and also working on Pullman Island. Despite Thomas’ efforts to help the irresistible Katelyn adjust to the intricacies of her new world, she just can’t seem to tame her gossiping tongue—even when the information she’s privy to could endanger her job, the 1872 re-election of Pullman guest President Ulysses S. Grant, and the love of the man of her dreams.</p> <h2><b>Author Susan G. Mathis</b></h2> <p class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Susan G Mathis is a multi-published author of stories set in the beautiful Thousand Islands, her childhood stomping ground in Upstate New York. <i>Katelyn’s Choice,</i><i>The Fabric of Hope: An Irish Family Legacy</i>, and <i>Christmas Charity </i>will transport you to a time and place few have visited.</p> <p class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Susan makes her home in Colorado Springs, enjoys traveling globally with her husband, Dale, and relishes time with her four adorable granddaughters.</p> <p class="m_-4344855794366334830gmail-MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Find out more at <a href="http://www.susangmathis.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.SusanGMathis.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1550345229024000&amp;usg=AFQjCNERJqEnz9GDzRjuWaJaLcbb41H1gw">www.SusanGMathis.com</a>.    <a href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Mathis-blue-e1544717688682.jpg"><img class="size-thumbnail wp-image-7312 alignright" src="http://www.peggysuewells.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Mathis-blue-150x150.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="150" /></a></p> <h2><strong>Sample Chapter</strong></h2> <p>The U.S. Gilded Age and the Thousand Islands Gilded Age is historically from 1870 to the early 1900s. This was a time of great economic growth, when European immigrants flooded into the U.S., and railroads expanded America at an alarming rate.</p> <p>Mark Twain coined the term in his 1873 novel, <em>The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today, </em> a satirical piece showing this time period as masking social problems with thin gold gilding.</p> <p>Rich and poor, servant and served, beauty and trouble characterized the period. In her Thousand Islands Gilded Age series, Susan G. Mathis shows those days through the history and setting of the beautiful Thousand Islands in Upstate New York – a Downton-Abbey-meets-the-Thousand-Islands from the perspective of the servant girl.</p> <h2>Pullman and President Grant</h2> <p>In 1872, George M. Pullman invited President Grant to visit his small island during the reelection campaign. Thanks to hungry journalists—Pullman launched a season of the rich and famous buying lots of the Thousand Islands and building castles, mansions, and magnificent summer homes. Those islands, those homes have delightful, intriguing, and often poignant stories to tell.</p> <p>In<em> Katelyn’s Choice, K</em>atelyn Kavanagh’s mother dreamed her daughter would one day escape the oppressive environment of their Upstate New York farm for service in the enchanting Thousand Islands, home to Gilded Age millionaires. When her wish comes true, Katelyn finds herself in the service of the famous George Pullman.</p> <p>Thomas O’Neill, brother of her best friend, is also working on Pullman Island. Despite Thomas’ efforts to help the irresistible Katelyn adjust to the intricacies of her new world, she just can’t seem to tame her gossiping tongue—even when the information she’s privy to could endanger her job, the love of the man of her dreams, and the 1872 re-election of Pullman guest, President Ulysses S. Grant.</p> <h2><strong>Excerpt from <em>Katelyn’s Choice</em></strong></h2> <p>Even at breakfast, Katelyn marveled that the swirl of fumes didn’t choke President Grant as he continued his cigar smoking. After she poured his coffee—without incident—she responded to his wink with a relieved smile and stepped back in line.</p> <p>Mr. Pullman took a generous slurp of coffee and set the cup down. “How did you fare the night, sir?”</p> <p>The president stopped cutting his omelet and gazed wistfully out the window and then at Mr. Pullman. “My repose was most assuredly that of genuine enjoyment, a wonderful treat during this harried campaign. This blue bosom of the mighty St. Lawrence held me in its spell all the night long, enchanting me with a dream of a quiet piece of heaven and that of calmer affairs than I have had in a long while. Pullman, old chap, you respite on one of the myriads of gems you call an island. I call it a bit of paradise.”</p> <p>Mrs. Pullman sent a pleased glance toward her husband, who gave her a slight nod. “I am delighted you rested well, sir, and you are most welcome here anytime.” She took one of the dainty muffins that Katelyn offered from a silver platter.</p> <p>The first lady turned to Mrs. Pullman. “It is a delightful place. I should think every island here will be quickly scooped up by those who can afford such a summer’s rest.”</p> <p>President Grant agreed and smiled so lovingly at his wife that Katelyn wondered if he would get up and kiss her at the breakfast table. “Did you know I spent four years stationed at the Madison Barracks in Sackets Harbor? It was beautiful, to be sure, but not like these islands.” He went on to talk about the War of 1812 battlegrounds and the quaint little town on the shore of Lake Ontario, not fifty miles from there. “It got mighty cold in the winter, and the snow? Never saw the like of it. One winter we had near ten feet of it, and a nasty blizzard nearly froze us all to death.”</p> <p>Mr. Pullman laughed. “Yes, that’s why the Thousand Islands is only a summer spot.”</p> <p><strong>Enter your name in the drawing for a free copy of <em>Katelyn&#8217;s Choice</em> by Susan G. Mathis <a href="https://www.facebook.com/peggysue.wells">HERE.</a></strong></p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/15/gilded-age-comes-to-life-in-katelyns-choice/">Gilded Age Comes to Life in Katelyn&#8217;s Choice</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> Spring https://meemaw-rita.blogspot.com/2019/03/spring.html MEEMAW MEMORIES urn:uuid:f7bb187b-8b8a-e018-0477-9fb5958d3a17 Tue, 12 Mar 2019 22:24:41 -0400 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Robins have been seen even on snowy days, promising warmer weather. Indiana, however, is known for frequent climate changes.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hjvb7t9mUVo/XIXOLwW6k-I/AAAAAAAAVEo/4p--cto-yOs-aUVFIwuxP6sqs1EF3r2_ACLcBGAs/s1600/53611011_10100735883631716_1104841523276546048_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="465" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hjvb7t9mUVo/XIXOLwW6k-I/AAAAAAAAVEo/4p--cto-yOs-aUVFIwuxP6sqs1EF3r2_ACLcBGAs/s320/53611011_10100735883631716_1104841523276546048_n.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Like the weather, my writing project does not spring forward as steadily as I would like. However, signs of hope pop up like the robins. My writers' critique group reviewed the chapter I rewrote and had very helpful and encouraging comments. I am so grateful for their feedback.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I keep finding old photos that now mean so much more as I connect them with the letters I am going through. Here is the kitchen my parents put together in&nbsp;our first home in La Carlota. Dad made all the cabinets from the crates that contained their belongings. One container was lost for months. They had nearly despaired of ever recovering it, and were thrilled when it was found and brought to Argentina by a returning missionary.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The arrival of the famous box was like an early Christmas. Many of my toys were there, pieces of fabric for Mother to make our dresses, and Dad's valuable study books. The high chair Daddy made before leaving the US was in it, as well as the handles for the cabinets.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">An interesting note about that kitchen:&nbsp;<span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mother commented that some said theirs looked like ones you saw in the magazines, "</span><i style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s not quite that but it is</i><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><i style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;">nicer than most of the missionaries have and it didn’t cost as much."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-firvTZ63c98/XIgnlQjV_VI/AAAAAAAAVFc/6fmwtLinfuAur83mYAqFp_EzdO3cOXwzgCLcBGAs/s1600/Kitchen%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="1600" height="218" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-firvTZ63c98/XIgnlQjV_VI/AAAAAAAAVFc/6fmwtLinfuAur83mYAqFp_EzdO3cOXwzgCLcBGAs/s640/Kitchen%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The mother who made all my clothes and was so good at decorating each home is now, at age 97, still making lovely art. I visited her this week and saw two recent pieces displayed at the entrance of the Health Center.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdeXXLQVHk0/XIXOL4pLr_I/AAAAAAAAVEg/_j4hz-0i5zw-yg5LVjCYfjhPg-ecNGoDwCLcBGAs/s1600/53597412_10100735267142166_203045893178392576_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="909" height="358" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdeXXLQVHk0/XIXOL4pLr_I/AAAAAAAAVEg/_j4hz-0i5zw-yg5LVjCYfjhPg-ecNGoDwCLcBGAs/s640/53597412_10100735267142166_203045893178392576_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I chose that day, March 7, to combine my visit with a birthday celebration for my youngest brother - Alan (56). His sons prepared the meal, I brought the cake. I so appreciated catching up on their lives. We'll have to do that more often!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1mRy7ndyj4Q/XIXOMWLXeDI/AAAAAAAAVEs/gPyD96CAgJgUWEt6j9K_1M2GggyRCbVuQCLcBGAs/s1600/Alan%2527s%2BBD%2Bselfie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="988" height="382" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1mRy7ndyj4Q/XIXOMWLXeDI/AAAAAAAAVEs/gPyD96CAgJgUWEt6j9K_1M2GggyRCbVuQCLcBGAs/s400/Alan%2527s%2BBD%2Bselfie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of my siblings wanted to know more about our Hoyt grandparents. As I searched my files, I was reminded that Grandma Hoyt's birthday was also in March, the 10th. She would have been 135.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lly8gg_0gHs/XIgjcZ5R7lI/AAAAAAAAVFQ/38UKi3UYW3gcMJvaIfce4zD7Zm0QC9JagCLcBGAs/s1600/CCI03122019_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1111" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lly8gg_0gHs/XIgjcZ5R7lI/AAAAAAAAVFQ/38UKi3UYW3gcMJvaIfce4zD7Zm0QC9JagCLcBGAs/s320/CCI03122019_0004.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna Leola Dorsey Hoyt</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I also found handwritten notes about the grandmother I never really knew. Photos and people tell me I look like her, probably true, both short, round faced, not slim. I have very sparse memories of her. She lived with us some when my parents were in seminary and cared for me while Mother was in class. However, I was only an infant. One photo of grandma reflects her joy as she holds me, her very first granddaughter after ten grandsons. I have a memory of playing with treasures in her lower drawer--buttons and trinkets. On our first furlough, when I was seven or eight, we visited her in her little house in Tennessee.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I do remember my father's sadness when his mother passed away at age 73 in December 1957. I was in eighth grade. We were on furlough living with our Hirschy grandparents in Evans City, Pennsylvania. Daddy was the only one who attended her funeral in Indiana. Mother was only a few weeks away from giving birth to Ivan, child number four.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I came across another bit of "Hoyt history" as I searched the archives. It happened in 1939. The family moved from Ashland, Ohio, to Winona Lake, Indiana. Grandpa Hoyt had already abandoned them. They were following Herman, the oldest, now the acting head of the family. The younger four boys made the trip on bicycles, sleeping in cornfields at night. Nowadays biking is a popular sport or leisure activity. What would it have been like back then? What kind of bikes did they have? How long could it have taken them? So many questions and no one to ask, all four--Garner, Lowell, Solon, Bud--are gone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Memorable moments of the week:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Rebecca invited me to her tea party! And, of course she had to show me her clean room, introduce me to all her Barbies and horses, model her dinosaur feet and head piece (accompanied by a dinosaurish roar), and read library books including <i>How do dinosaurs learn to read, </i>by Jane Yolen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Don't you just love all her expressions?!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jnePLpGl_FE/XIXOM_PwRBI/AAAAAAAAVEw/2Q-O-KfoJJw1-7HMH1r4z5OkTYFoPaNFgCLcBGAs/s1600/Rebecca%2527s%2Bparty%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jnePLpGl_FE/XIXOM_PwRBI/AAAAAAAAVEw/2Q-O-KfoJJw1-7HMH1r4z5OkTYFoPaNFgCLcBGAs/s640/Rebecca%2527s%2Bparty%2BCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The big event of the week was Team 1720's first competition. Michael was gone Friday through Sunday. I didn't go to this one, but followed them closely from afar. They had a great start and remained number one the first day. As often happens, the robot lost some functionality and they dropped to third place, which was still amazing. In the playoffs they lost to alliance #7 who went on to beat #1.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><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://2.bp.blogspot.com/-503dacZtlbs/XIXONbZQIyI/AAAAAAAAVE0/KKTxysPhUsQ-Uy9x_mc34qBHCfnvrpXvQCLcBGAs/s1600/Team%2BSt.%2BJ%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1532" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-503dacZtlbs/XIXONbZQIyI/AAAAAAAAVE0/KKTxysPhUsQ-Uy9x_mc34qBHCfnvrpXvQCLcBGAs/s640/Team%2BSt.%2BJ%2BCollage.jpg" width="612" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elijah performing scouting duty; mechanic mentor Mike operating on the Space Walrus</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>So proud of the two Kochs on the team!<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MeemawMemories/~4/LIjUdQRFuGs" height="1" width="1" alt=""/> Mothers In Waiting—Healing and Hope for Those with Empty Arms http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/12/mothers-in-waiting-healing-and-hope-for-those-with-empty-arms/ PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author urn:uuid:664f6d19-1999-cc36-5851-f82ad860d244 Tue, 12 Mar 2019 22:00:43 -0400 <p>Empty Arms. Infertility. Mothers in waiting, longing to have a child. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, about ten percent of women in the United States have difficulty getting pregnant or staying pregnant. That’s 6.1 million women whose bodies work differently when it comes to having a baby. Friend and fellow author, [&#8230;]</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/12/mothers-in-waiting-healing-and-hope-for-those-with-empty-arms/">Mothers In Waiting—Healing and Hope for Those with Empty Arms</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> <p>Empty Arms. Infertility. Mothers in waiting, longing to have a child. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, about ten percent of women in the United States have difficulty getting pregnant or <a href="https://medium.com/@peggysuewells/when-a-baby-dies-2bb8638a0196">staying pregnant</a>. That’s 6.1 million women whose bodies work differently when it comes to having a baby.</p> <p>Friend and fellow author, Crystal Bowman, teamed up with her daughter-in-law, Meghann Bowman, to pen a heartfelt, vulnerable, and helpful book for women with empty arms, <em>Mothers in Waiting.</em> Crystal tells us about their book:</p> <p>When infertility rules a woman’s life, the downward spiral begins. Every day experiences become painful reminders. She stays home from church on Mother’s Day, and she cringes when she receives another baby shower invitation. The condition also takes a toll on her marriage as making loves turns into making babies.</p> <h4>Empty Arms</h4> <p>This is how my daughter-in-law, Meghann, felt for more than five years. Besides wondering what was wrong with her body–and why she couldn’t do the one thing that a woman’s body is supposed to do—she felt alone. Surrounded by pregnant friends and happy baby announcements, she struggled with feelings of inferiority and sadness.</p> <p>After several exhausting years, Meghann finally became pregnant and is currently the mother of two healthy little ones. Her desire is to offer hope and encouragement to other women who are walking that lonely path. She wanted to write a book and came to me for help. Since her story is only one woman’s story, I had an idea: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mothers-Waiting-Healing-Those-Empty/dp/0736975365/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=Crystal+Bowman%2C+Mothers+in+Waiting&amp;qid=1552441222&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-2-catcorr"><em>what if we collected stories from 30 women so we could have a wide variety of stories?</em> </a>Meghann said, “Yes!” and the project began.</p> <h4>Sharing Stories</h4> <p>I thought finding 30 women to share their stories would be difficult, but God brought them to me one after the other. No matter where I went, I met women who wanted to share their stories. <a href="https://medium.com/@peggysuewells/when-a-baby-dies-2bb8638a0196">Women of all ages, all ethnicities, and all walks of life offered their stories of infertility, surgeries, miscarriage, adoption, in vitro  failures and successes, as well as finding peace in being childless.</a> The result is a beautiful new book titled <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mothers-Waiting-Healing-Those-Empty/dp/0736975365/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=Crystal+Bowman%2C+Mothers+in+Waiting&amp;qid=1552441222&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-2-catcorr"><em>Mothers In Waiting–Healing and Hope for Those with</em> <em>Empty Arms. </em></a></p> <p>Each story follows the same format: My Story; My Struggle, My Strength, and My Scripture. Each story is told through the voice of the contributor—honest, real, and heartfelt. There are no easy answers or simple solutions offered. Readers with aching hearts will find hope and encouragement from women who want to walk beside them, identify with their pain, and point them to God.</p> <p>Get your copy of Crystal Bowman and Meghann Bowman&#8217;s book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mothers-Waiting-Healing-Those-Empty/dp/0736975365/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=Crystal+Bowman%2C+Mothers+in+Waiting&amp;qid=1552441222&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-2-catcorr">Mothers in Waiting HERE.</a></p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com/2019/03/12/mothers-in-waiting-healing-and-hope-for-those-with-empty-arms/">Mothers In Waiting—Healing and Hope for Those with Empty Arms</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.peggysuewells.com">PeggySue Wells | Inspirational Speaker and Best-Selling Author</a>.</p> Hoosier Hospitality https://onflesherpond.com/2019/03/11/hoosier-hospitality/ On Flesher Pond urn:uuid:8c507c45-4e7a-515e-356c-551285816180 Mon, 11 Mar 2019 07:33:01 -0400 I don’t know what day it is. It’s been nine months since I retired, and a rhythm has developed to my weeks. Sunday morning still has me in church for an hour of fellowship; Tuesday noon I attend an Al-Anon meeting learning to detach and yet still care; and Friday noon my writers’ group meets &#8230; <a href="https://onflesherpond.com/2019/03/11/hoosier-hospitality/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Hoosier Hospitality</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a> <p>I don’t know what day it is. It’s been nine months since I retired, and a rhythm has developed to my weeks. Sunday morning still has me in church for an hour of fellowship; Tuesday noon I attend an Al-Anon meeting learning to detach and yet still care; and Friday noon my writers’ group meets to discuss one of our current stories. But this pesky polar vortex has descended on us again with below-zero wind chills, and I haven’t been anywhere this week. All my days have run together. The geese didn’t return on the first day of March (see <em>Frank and Opal</em>), and no wonder. The pond is frozen over again and it’s too cold to be outside for anyone except fur-hooded folks who like igloos.</p> <p>In-between arctic plunges, I chatted with Billy, who had repaired my ninety-year-old mom’s car. I was hoping he couldn’t fix the u-joint, whatever that is, but he did (see <em>Jerky and Pears</em>). Since he works unadvertised in his driveway, many of my readers will never get the benefit of his vehicle-repair expertise. By the way, my mom says she wants to drive again if spring ever comes, but that’s another story.</p> <p>Billy told me about what had recently happened to him. Apparently K.S. isn’t the only one who loses $50 bills (see <em>The Red Truck</em>). He had stopped in at the local bar for a late afternoon pick-me-up, and then headed to the grocery store. When he reached into his pocket to pay for cigarettes and coffee, his fist came up empty.</p> <p>“I knew which pocket my fifty-dollar bill was in, but it warn’t there,” he told me.</p> <p>He left his items with the cashier and re-traced his steps to the tavern. “I asked the bartender if anyone had turned in a $50 bill, knowing the chance was slim to none.” </p> <p>A stranger at one of the tables overheard his question and piped up, “Which table were you sitting at?”</p> <p>Billy turned around to speak to him and pointed at the table.</p> <p>“Which chair were you sitting in?” the man asked.</p> <p>Billy walked over and pointed again.</p> <p>“Which side of the chair did your fifty-dollar bill fall on?”</p> <p>Billy said, “The left side. Had it in my left pant’s pocket.” </p> <p>The stranger reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a $50 bill and said, “This must be yours, then.”</p> <p>That’s life in small-town America, filled with kind strangers and honest car mechanics. Hoosier hospitality is real, and still deals out fairness and generosity, both of which are in short supply in our country’s leadership. But that’s altogether another story.</p>