tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60438483345288662322024-03-05T19:25:29.361-05:00Hannah's Simple ThoughtsHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-8629776810880447382016-08-08T01:15:00.000-04:002016-08-08T01:15:14.417-04:00Be Anxious for Nothing<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">I lived in such a deep depression for many years of my
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So deep I never thought I would
crawl out of it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During those 10-15
years of my life I struggled to understand how God could really love me…personally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe the Bible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe when He says He loves the whole
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For whatever reason I couldn’t
fathom that I was part of that “world.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I never felt like I belonged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe that’s just part of how some adoptees feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember thinking often while growing up
that if I wasn’t good enough for my own mother to want me why would anyone else
truly want me…including God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was a lie from the pits of hell, but
that’s what the devil likes to do…shoot those fiery arrows with awful lies
straight at our heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder too if
people who deal more with depression are people who feel just a little bit
deeper than those who aren’t depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many, many, many times throughout my life people have said something in
passing that hurt me to the core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Something that they probably never gave a second thought, but something
that about destroyed me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One thing that
has helped me during those times was claiming John 10:10 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The thief (</i>that’s the devil<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">)
does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(</i>that’s
Jesus<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">) have come that they may have life,
and that they may have it more abundantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></i>What’s so exciting to me about that verse is that God doesn’t just want me to have a
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sent His only Son so that I
could have an ABUNDANT life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
think of abundance I think of being drenched in goodness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know how you can buy a cheap frozen pizza and you
take it out of the box and you can literally count each piece of grated
cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is NOT abundance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my teenage son puts cheese on his pizza
I wonder if we should invest in a cow just to supply him with enough
cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s crazy folks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His pizza probably weighs more than any of my
children at birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that’s abundance!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Almost two years ago my brother-in-law and sister-in-law welcomed
a 3 day old baby into their home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
honestly couldn’t wait to see her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
no idea what she was going to look like, but it didn’t matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved her already.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally was able to see her about three
weeks later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was perfect!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my surprise she even had brown skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I honestly couldn’t kiss her and snuggle with
her enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember leaving their
home the next day wishing I could kiss her just a few more times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time we went to visit I fell just a bit
more in love with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From day one she
was part of our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t matter
if she had been in my sister-in-law’s womb or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t matter that she had brown
skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing mattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was in our hearts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the past year or so there have been a few
fearful times that she would be adopted or put back into her birth family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time God showed himself faithful and
graciously answered our pleadings to allow her to stay in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our </i>family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We continue to
pray, and He continues to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1 John
5:14 says, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now this is the confidence
that we have in Him (</i>Jesus<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">), that if
we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe with all my heart that He has heard
our prayers and I thank Him for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
looks like this sweet little toddler is soon going to leave our family and go
back to her birth mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure in some
cases this could be a great thing, but in this particular case it is not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not just because we want little S to stay
with us, but because we know S won’t have the stability, love, and care that she
has now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Knowing that S will be leaving any day makes me want to crawl
into a dark hole and die. I know Satan is hoping I fall back into a deep
depression, but I refuse to give him that satisfaction. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that God understands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tells us He does. Ps. 147:5b says, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">His understanding is infinite.” </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also know that I don’t think like God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaiah 55:9 says. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My (</i>God<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">) thoughts than your thoughts.” </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the reasons His thoughts are higher
than mine is the fact that He is perfect and can see it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sees the beginning and the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He already knows S’ future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We only know how much it will hurt when she
leaves.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">A friend of mine said the other day that she is so sick of
the devil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wholeheartedly agreed with
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also said that she didn’t believe
that S leaving our family was God’s Will but the result of us living in a
sinful world that the devil is having a field day running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I again agreed emphatically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure there will be people that don’t have
something encouraging to say like my friend did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll say this is God’s will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll say she’s better off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll say it’s ok because she wasn’t really
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my son passed away so many
people said he was much better off in God’s arms than in mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK, this is true, but it was the very last
thing I wanted or needed to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
understand that God loves my children more than I’ll ever be capable of loving
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also realize He can care for
them far better than I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That does
not mean I want Him to take them all to Glory to be with Him now. Sometimes the
best thing to say is, “I don’t know what to say”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">With little S I know that God knows her future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew when she joined our family what was
going to take place this month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> When something </span>hurts us that doesn’t mean He isn't in control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is in control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He does care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He hurts right along with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
sends the Holy Spirit to comfort us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
also believe that God can move mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He can make a way for S to stay in our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will always have that hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I refuse to let the devil take that away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If God cares about a bird, or the grass in
the fields, or how many hairs I have on my head than I KNOW He cares about
S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cares about how we are
hurting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hears our pleas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He understands our sorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s collecting our tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feels our grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">I saw S two days ago presumably for the last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my sister-in-law pulled out of her
driveway with little S in the back seat my family and I stood in her yard waving
and blowing kisses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>S peeked her little
head up and could barely see out of the backseat window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She waved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She giggled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She blew
kisses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had no idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll never forget that happy little brown
face as long as I live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll never
forget kissing her soft feathery wisps of hair on our first visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll continue to praise my heavenly Father
for allowing us to love her. To hold her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To watch her learn. To see her grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To hear her giggles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To hear her
say “thank-you” in her sweet little way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To watch her take her first steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To see her<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>welcome her baby
brother into the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To rock her to
sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To comfort her fears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To sing to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To tickle her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To pass down clothes to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To just plain enjoy her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because my God is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He’s just.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s sovereign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know the devil is trying to
steal S from us. I know the devil is hoping to kill our belief in God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
the devil is hoping to destroy our faith over this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Satan will not get that
satisfaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hurt but we don’t give
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cry but are comforted by the Comforter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are even fearful at times, but we KNOW God
is fighting for us and He will win!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Be anxious for NOTHING,
but in EVERYTHING by prayer and supplication, with THANKSGIVING<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>let your requests be made known to God; and
the peace of God, which surpasses ALL understanding, will guard your hearts and
minds through Christ Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Philippians 4:6&7<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-9887675917210498442016-05-09T00:31:00.000-04:002016-05-09T00:31:28.511-04:00Mothers Day 2016<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I don’t consider myself a
Proverbs 31 woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like I have
such a long way to go to achieve that status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I do, however, feel that I’m on that path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly it took me way too many years to set
that as my goal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always felt like it
just wasn’t attainable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember my high school principal giving devotions each morning from the book of Proverbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever he would talk of the Proverbs 31 woman,
he would make mention of his mom and his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are/were the picture of that chapter!!!!! I loved them both so much but
I knew I wasn’t anywhere close to their godliness.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As I prayed for my
children this morning, I thanked God for blessing me with such precious
treasures. Each time I knew I was going to be a mommy again, I prayed something specific for
each one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some things were spiritual and
some things were…well…selfish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God answered
each silly request.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I may be one
of His favorites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>;-) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often feel that I fail them as a
mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They in turn remind me that they
think I’m pretty awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This continues
to make me shake my head.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For Phebe, I asked that she would
have dimples in her cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phebe is 22
and I often tell her I want to grow up to be just like her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has the patience of Job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She NEVER complains. She refuses to
gossip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She ALWAYS sees the best in
others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is an encourager, a teacher,
a helper, and thankfully my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
tell myself many times a week that I couldn’t do my job without her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today in her card to me she said she hopes to
be half the mom I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isn’t that
funny?!?!? I want to be like her…she wants to be like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
knew what He was doing when He brought us together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> She is beautiful inside and out. Proverbs 31:30 says, "Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised." </span>Thank you Phebe for being the one who made me
a momma!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">For Abner, I prayed that he would
have lots of energy and be filled with happiness. These were two things that
were lacking in my life at that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abner
is now 16 and let me just say, "WOW, parenting a teenager is REALLY
difficult!!!!!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong…I love
this kid completely!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s just in that
stage of life that he has to learn so much big stuff that it’s hard to cram it
all in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean who really wants to be
learning ALL THE TIME?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all like to
goof around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all like to not be “adult”
at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So being an “almost” adult is
crazy hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This guy has taught me to
really think before I talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve learned
that he can only hear so much from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
I</span>f I start to lecture him, all he hears is Charlie Brown’s teacher…Waw
Waaw waw. How many times does it tell us in Proverbs to essentially keep our
mouths shut or to choose our words wisely?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>LOTS!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Proverbs 31:26 says, "She opens her mouth with wisdom, and her tongue is the law of kindness." </span>So thank you, Abner, for
helping me to learn this very difficult virtue.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoYf7wIkBoz9DU2Xn5_rTJ2XwOPUbbelmMVzDZDuY3IaZW2WaQ2xLSp158mCmB9Yj4gnoABEDONVLLnvyuI2NZQG9WFKTny5TXh9DeYk_IQstmHSkPdu_qUO5n1uZv_F9O9E_RiTUTER6/s1600/IMG_1915.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoYf7wIkBoz9DU2Xn5_rTJ2XwOPUbbelmMVzDZDuY3IaZW2WaQ2xLSp158mCmB9Yj4gnoABEDONVLLnvyuI2NZQG9WFKTny5TXh9DeYk_IQstmHSkPdu_qUO5n1uZv_F9O9E_RiTUTER6/s200/IMG_1915.PNG" width="131" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For Uriah, I prayed that he would
point others to Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uriah…how could
someone who was on this earth for only 2 days make such an impact on <em>my</em>
life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s amazing how much he taught
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned so much about God’s peace,
love, grace, and mercy through his short life!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Uriah was so beautiful!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His skin
was a little dark, he had crazy curly hair, big round eyes, and a cupid
lip!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have never asked for
anything more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still feel him in
my arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still smell him. I can
still hear his final breaths. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still
love him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still miss him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still hurt for him. I couldn’t be happier
about where he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never have to worry
about him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never have to wonder if he
is going to accept Christ as his Savior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I never have to wonder if he will be hurt or hurt others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lives in perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lives with my Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s waiting for me. Proverbs 31:25 says, "Strength and honor are her clothing; she shall rejoice in time to come." Thank you Uriah for
being such a wonderful little soldier for Christ!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNNzWH1XxKK95chUsBlGEcHHrwtTTg7uWRVmm2hjxycAkGz_VRcinE-FV7g-g3pZu3zWcLGAtoSQ3cIBpshu-BBVi9DJ42VQUkSZsb-Pb2VaESuy1qt_NKd3jIphrIl_vlp56L_45pOcQ/s1600/IMG_1919.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNNzWH1XxKK95chUsBlGEcHHrwtTTg7uWRVmm2hjxycAkGz_VRcinE-FV7g-g3pZu3zWcLGAtoSQ3cIBpshu-BBVi9DJ42VQUkSZsb-Pb2VaESuy1qt_NKd3jIphrIl_vlp56L_45pOcQ/s200/IMG_1919.PNG" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For Asher, I prayed that he would
love Jesus with ALL his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Asher is
5 and boy does that little man love Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Asher is able to convict me like no other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remind him occasionally that he is not the
Holy Spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>;-)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other day he said to me that he was
trying to find things every day that he can do to help others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says this is what God has created him to
do, so he must be faithful to his job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, I’m here to say little Dash Dash has not missed a day of
work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>;-)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he told me about this it made me stop
and think about myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I daily look
for ways to help others?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Um, yeah…he
keeps me on my toes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I seriously make
decisions based on what Asher would do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Is that insane or what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kid
is 5.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was my healing balm after Uriah
went to heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I ever live my
life without this little soul winner?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Proverbs 27:11 says, "My son, be wise, and make my heart glad!"
</span>Thank you Asher for making me want to be a better Christian!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1TOdPHwuTxuPLDmWDNKOunAYvqVLv-SU-nC5Ld7-f-RN4S3iQSH-29f8TrPim6r4kJKx1RmEHxf1-sejM8P-s0NkyhKkM4OOZ5Kvoq3oOXUdYnwyStFDvezp2Jcst5SmkAHzzRm9IzE1/s1600/IMG_1916.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1TOdPHwuTxuPLDmWDNKOunAYvqVLv-SU-nC5Ld7-f-RN4S3iQSH-29f8TrPim6r4kJKx1RmEHxf1-sejM8P-s0NkyhKkM4OOZ5Kvoq3oOXUdYnwyStFDvezp2Jcst5SmkAHzzRm9IzE1/s200/IMG_1916.PNG" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For Selah, I prayed for blue eyes
and curly hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selah Grace, my little 3
year old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woe, let me just tell you
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I wasn’t saved and loved the
Lord with all of my heart this little girl would make me consider beating
children. OK, not really, but she does get on my last severed nerve many, MANY
times throughout the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s one of
those people who will be doing something wrong and just look at you with a big
ole smile on their face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She KNOWS she’s
going to get in trouble, but the consequence never seems to deter her from her
sin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I better come up with some
better consequences. She’s amazingly independent and loves to accomplish things
that seem impossible for someone her age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I honestly think she thinks she’s in her twenties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is one of my favorite people to hear
pray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s so genuine and sincere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thanks Jesus EVERY day for her family and
especially her baby brother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she
knows someone is sick she thanks Jesus for making them better before she asks
Him to heal them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the cutest
thing!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loves her daddy more than
anything in this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s quite
certain that the sun rises and sets on him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I love seeing how much she loves my man!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Proverbs 15:29 says, "The Lord is far from the wicked, but He hears the prayer of the righteous." (She's not righteous yet, but I know the Lord is working.)
</span>Thank you, Selah, for helping me be a better prayer warrior!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For Baryk, I prayed that he would
bless others, through Christ, for all his days. Baryk L. will be a year old in
just a couple weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot believe
how fast this last year has gone! This little guy is the happiest baby I’ve
ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He laughs all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he wakes up in the middle of the night and
I go to get him he holds his little arms out to me with the biggest smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I pick him up he giggles like I’ve just
tickled him for ten minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can I
be upset that he wakes me up?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is a
smart little guy too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says far more
words at this age than any of my other babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know he will be walking soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
sure as a momma I’m supposed to be happy about that, but it brings tears to my
eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m very well aware that as soon
as they take their first step that it is their first step walking away from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that my job is to raise them to live
for Christ, and allow them to live an abundant life God has in store for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing something and wanting something are
two very different things. Bear was our little surprise, but oh what a blessing
he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hence his name…Baryk L. =
blessing from the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so thankful
that God knew I needed this little smiley mister in my life. Proverbs 31:25 says, "Let your father and your mother be glad, and let her who bore you rejoice." Thank you Bear for
making me smile all day (and sometimes all night) long!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Last, but surely not least my moms!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;">My mom who carried me. Thank you for loving me enough to send me away. Happy Mother's Day! Love you so much!!!!</span></div>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><span style="color: #741b47;"> My mom who raised me and told me about Jesus. Thank you for teaching me </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"> so much about being a godly momma! Happy Mother's Day! I love you! </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjxMD4gTDDkcyqrj2CnrvwvkKY_3HPhdwP-kFoEdH6-JRR5JIcxozeP2wNhoM4IOvQYwzPBQBpRfSRgicLBKrBKYMXUR8Cju6bjNZ9-nUa3tJmgPpGUPb2apYb8CTIVnK3Ni3jPouretO/s1600/20160508_224759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjUxhaeUzgAJrJx_cLZpneEWXlxrMYI8r4owAqIdHWSb5G-yLSL2_OR1oYUKzj5AoEG1tHp2j3klKPHBjxcxXqAvdvnSJa869mS30hjRy5SpatBo7dhGIHxbqgY-ytRc3dwrTEmZ794dC/s1600/mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjUxhaeUzgAJrJx_cLZpneEWXlxrMYI8r4owAqIdHWSb5G-yLSL2_OR1oYUKzj5AoEG1tHp2j3klKPHBjxcxXqAvdvnSJa869mS30hjRy5SpatBo7dhGIHxbqgY-ytRc3dwrTEmZ794dC/s200/mom.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;">My mother in love. Thank you so much for loving me just the way I am. You always make me feel like I'm doing such an amazing job! Happy Mother's Day...love you bunches!!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-25953991428720170322015-02-21T16:18:00.003-05:002015-02-21T16:18:46.266-05:00Speak Truth<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Asher is now four and has an amazing imagination. He LOVES to play new made-up games. His newest pastime is pretending to be
someone and acting out a play…preferably with someone else. Today it was all about David…King David…before
he became king. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Dad, you’re going to be Goliath and I’m going to be David.
So go get a sword and a shield.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My hubby complied and stood in front of Asher and said, “Fee
Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Israelite!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Asher was immediately furious. “DAD, that is NOT what
Goliath said. He said, ‘What am I - a
dog?’ and then he laughed like this ‘HA HA HA!’ Now try again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My poor hubby!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So Jesse said in quite a quiet manner, “What am I - a dog?
Hee hee hee.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I thought poor Asher was going to come unglued. “DAD, loud….Goliath
was very loud! WHAT AM I A DOG? HA HA HA HA HA!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jesse eventually did it right. ;-)
Asher has no problem telling you when you are doing something
incorrectly, but he also doesn’t have a problem with telling you when you do
something right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few weeks ago Asher complained throughout the day that his
tummy hurt. I gave him a little extra attention
but since he had no symptoms I didn’t do much else. It had been a very long
day. Everyone was finally in bed. Jesse was getting ready for bed and I decided
I would sneak downstairs and watch a little TV all by myself. :-) I don’t think I had been sitting there 5
minutes when I heard Asher screaming his head off. Now let me explain what I mean by that. This kid has THE shrillest screech you have
ever heard. In fact, when he was just a
baby he woke up crying from his nap with that scream that can wake the
dead. The neighbor was sleeping in his
house and said he sat straight up in bed thinking the house must be on fire.
No, it was just my son next door letting me know he was ready to get out of
bed. :-/ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I’m hearing this screech and I instantly know he’s up
there vomiting. I took a deep breath and
settled back in the chair. I convinced
myself at that moment that my hubby could handle it. Just nominate me for “mom of the year.” After
five or six minutes of this gut-wrenching crying I finally headed
upstairs. It’s funny to me now, when I
recall the sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jesse is a very patient man and also VERY quiet. So the man I saw that night sort of shocked
me. He was forcefully trying to get
Asher to bend over the toilet to vomit.
Very loudly stating, “BEND OVER BEND OVER!” Asher only arched his back and sprayed the
bathroom with……YUCK! FYI ladies…guys weren’t meant to do stuff like this, and
it’s ok. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I ran to Asher’s side and
told him how sorry I was he was sick. I
started to rub his back and repeatedly told him what a brave little boy he
was. The next time he needed to up-chuck
he bent right over the toilet and did his thing. I continued to sooth and comfort him. Then I put him in a nice warm bath with
peppermint oil. He laid in there and just relaxed. It was so sweet. I ran the water over his tummy with my hand
and kept telling him he was such a big boy…handling all of this so well. My poor hubby was cleaning the bathroom while
this was going on. Poor guy!!!! Although I think he much preferred it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Asher ended up in bed with us. I snuggled in close to him and massaged his
tummy with oils. He started to nod off.
Then he turned to me smiled and said, “Momma, you take such good care of me.” Then fell asleep. Oh the guilt I felt! I knew I wasn’t the great mom Asher thought I
was. For crying out loud I had just sat
in my lazy boy forever before deciding to help him. UGH!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My children teach me something nearly every day. I love how the Lord uses them to do that for
me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’ve talked to some different ladies the last few weeks, and
was astonished by what they said. They
were struggling in the same areas as I was.
They said things like:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m worthless as a mom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My family would be better off without me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can’t figure out why my husband even bothers to stay with
me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m the worst wife ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m ugly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m fat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know how to cook, dress, decorate, clean, care for
my children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m unworthy of love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My kids deserve a mom who gets up and devotes more time with
them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">WOW, who is telling us women this crap?!?!?!?!?! It sure isn’t
God! I think it’s the stinkin’ rotten devil.
I believe with all my heart he is very jealous of moms. Why? Because it is something he can never be. He can never feel that little one grow inside
of him. He can never deliver a baby and feel that fulfillment of being a woman.
He can never feed a baby from his
breast. He can never comfort like a mom
because he can never be one. So what
does he do? He torments us with
lies. You know what WE do? We listen.
Why? Because he’s very
convincing. I know with all my heart I’m
not even close to being the woman Eve was.
Yet, he was able to confuse and convince her of a very big lie. Do we really think we are better than
Eve? She was a woman who actually walked
and talked with God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then we silly women keep all of these hurts, lies, feelings,
and struggles to ourselves. We convince ourselves that we are the only ones who
feel this way. HARDLY! Ladies we need to share how we feel. We need to talk. We need to cry. Why are we hiding? Why are we hurting alone? The devil is enjoying this so much. He’s over in the corner laughing his fool head
off at us. How about we stop giving him
that satisfaction!?! How about we speak
the truth!?! How about we take every
thought captive!?! If we would just do
the simple things that God encourages us to do, life would be sooooooo much better.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If God wants us to have an abundant life how can we have
that if we are listening to a bunch of lies? We MUST speak the truth!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am a princess of the most high King.( Romans 8:17)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am His favorite. (John 17:23)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He loves me completely. (Ephesians 3:16-21)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He has a plan just for me. (Jeremiah 29:11)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am holy and without blame. (Ephesians 1:4)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He sings over me. (Zephaniah 3:17)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He knows my heart. (Psalms 139:1-2)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He says I’m beautiful. (1 Peter 3:3-4)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He will never leave me. (Deuteronomy 31:6)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can stop the devil. (Ephesians 6:16)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes the truth hurts.
Just ask my poor hubby when Asher “instructs” him. Other times the truth
will lift us up. The truth will bring us
closer to Christ. The truth will set us
free from the lies of the devil.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Who’s with me?
Who will stand with me today and SPEAK THE TRUTH!!??!!</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-949979183941222702015-02-15T13:20:00.001-05:002015-02-15T13:20:52.648-05:00<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">Lupus, what a joke! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">I was diagnosed with this horrible sickness five years
ago. I had been dealing with many of the
symptoms for ten years prior to this. I
couldn’t find a doctor for TEN years who could figure out what was wrong with
me. Ten years….ugh! I honestly began to wonder if I was losing my
mind. They kept telling me I was just
dealing with depression. As if
depression is not a big deal. The
problem was I wasn’t dealing with depression…I was dealing with lupus! I remember dealing with headaches, a rash all
over my face, fatigue, and memory loss. Can someone explain to me how this is
depression? They would say to me that there was nothing wrong with me. They also said it was all in my head. Really?
REALLY?????<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">I finally found a doctor who was willing to do some extra
bloodwork. What did he find? You guessed it…Lupus! He sent me to a very good rheumatologist that
confirmed the diagnoses along with fibromyalgia. What a bittersweet moment. Finally, an answer to all my strange symptoms
I dealt with on a daily basis. However,
the realization that this was something I would be dealing with for the rest of
my life was very disheartening. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">L</span> The strangest thing
that happened was I was not able to realize I was in constant pain until they
mentioned it. I still don’t comprehend
this, but I KNOW that the daily pain is VERY real! I’ve read that this happens
to lots of people…strange.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">The rheumatologist prescribed a medication that would help
with many of my symptoms. He told me it
would easily take 2-3 months before the meds would work. Well, three months later I was pregnant and
all the medications stopped. I was so
miserable during that pregnancy. I couldn’t
wait for it to be over. My OB had told
me that because of the lupus I would be followed very closely, specialists
would be involved every step of the way, and they would most definitely be
inducing at 37 weeks for the safety of the baby. I honestly didn’t know what he
was talking about. The misery of the
pregnancy did not allow me to think clearly.
I just went to my appointments and counted the days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">No one told me the dangers of lupus and pregnancy. No one told me the huge possibility of
stillbirth. The only warning they gave
me was that the baby could very possibly have a heart issue. So they monitored his heart very closely. I went to my 37 week appointment with bags in
hand and my hubby at my side because we totally anticipated being induced. The other OB in the office said she didn’t
have a clue what I was talking about and they would not be inducing that
day. This happened every week for the next three
weeks. I was beyond depressed. At almost 41 weeks I went into labor
naturally, but it was too late…the baby died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">Not one doctor told me this was probably because of the
lupus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">Six weeks later I was pregnant again, and of course no meds
for the lupus. In fact, my
rheumatologist moved away. The pain was excruciating.
There were many times my ten year old son had to lift my legs into the bed
because I couldn’t physically do it. Abner helped me so much through that
pregnancy. I remember crawling through the house because I couldn’t stand the
pain to walk. The many doctors that were
following me through this pregnancy even prescribed narcotics for my pain. I refused to take it because I wasn’t willing
to take anything that may hurt this baby. This baby was born at 34 weeks. He had some issues breathing but he
lived. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">When this baby was four months old I fell down a few steps
and broke my ankle in three places. It
was such a simple fall it made no sense that my bones broke so easily. I was just told by my new rheumatologist that
it was because of the lupus.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">I was so busy during this time that I didn’t take the time
to take care of myself. I didn’t eat
right, I didn’t look for a new rheumatologist, and I didn’t even think about my
symptoms. I had way too many other
things to deal with. Before I knew it I
was pregnant again. This pregnancy wasn’t
as bad, in fact, my bloodwork showed that the lupus was in remission. This is what happens in most lupus
cases. It had just never happened with
me before this. That is not to say this
pregnancy was easy. I was still dealing
with fibromyalgia pain as well as gestational diabetes. I had switched OB’s for this little one and
they insisted I be monitored closely as well as be induced by 37 weeks. This
baby was born and had some issues with her lungs but didn’t need to go to the
NICU. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">After she was born I tried everything I could think of to
lose weight. Nothing worked. It didn’t make any sense. In fact, I was gaining weight even though I
was eating right and exercising. The weight just piled on and the pain
magnified. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">I finally listened to a friend’s advice and went to see a
holistic nurse. She explained that I was
dealing with a very severe case of candida.
Before going to see this nurse I remember telling my husband I felt like
I was dying. I was quite sure I was
going to have a heart attack or a stroke. The nurse explained that the candida
was so bad that I could very easily have a heart attack or stroke. She told me I could no longer babysit and I
needed to find someone to take care of my little ones for at least two weeks
while she tried to get this yeast overgrowth under control. She was amazing and things started to look
up. The problem was I couldn’t afford
all of the supplements she suggested. So
another friend told me about a natural doctor she was following on YouTube. I figured it wouldn’t hurt. So I started listening to his advice. His suggestion was to eat only fruit. This sounded crazy but by this point I would
have eaten dog poo if it meant I would feel normal again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">The fruit worked! I had
NEVER felt so good in my life. I lost
fifty pounds without even trying. I was always full because I could eat as much
fruit as I wanted. Then I found out I
was pregnant. The fatigue came back with
a vengeance. Even worse than the fatigue
was the morning sickness. I was a mess.
I was sick 24/7. Not just nauseous but
SICK! <i> </i>I had no idea one could be this sick ALL
the time. After a couple months of barely
being able to leave my bed I decided to contact the holistic nurse again. After
listening to a friend tell me I REALLY should!
Of course, she had the answer.
She put me on some supplements and within 48 hours the sickness was
tolerable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">The fatigue and pain only worsened. I was literally sleeping 20 hours a day. Try
doing that with four kids. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> I again saw a new OB because the last one had
moved. This OB was a God send. He totally put me at ease and actually
listened to me. He has called me at home
just to check and see how I was feeling as well as personally giving me my test
results. Knowing your doctor cares means
so much! A couple of months ago he asked
if I would be willing to see a rheumatologist.
I told him I would rather not. He
was so kind about it though that I agreed to see the rheumatologist. Boy, am I thankful I did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">Two weeks ago I went to see her. She was amazing! She spent over two hours explaining the
effects of lupus on my body. In my head
I thought I was feeling better. I didn’t
want to admit I felt like crap again.
She started listing off symptoms…probably close to 15…I had 10 of
them. She also explained that since I was
not taking any meds for the lupus that it was amazing that I was still alive in
my 40’s. Most women who deal with lupus
and don’t medicate generally die by the age of 40. Lupus causes your body to attack itself. It likes to attack organs. Apparently it likes to attack my heart, which
would now explain all my chest pain and fatigue. I’m not one for taking prescriptions at
all!!!!! However, I really felt that
this time I needed to rethink that choice.
One of the reasons I decided to take the medication is because many
pregnant women who have lupus have stillbirths.
I CANNOT go through that again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">I have not been writing on my blog because I didn’t have the
mental capacity to write. In fact, I
couldn’t even read. Well, I could read
but I couldn’t understand what I was reading.
This is very difficult for someone who used to read a book a day. Since being on this medication I actually
read and finished a book. This thrills
my heart. I READ A BOOK PEOPLE!!!!!!! I have no clue if what I wrote today makes
any sense but I wrote it nonetheless.
This makes me smile. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">I hope and pray I will be able to continue with reading and
writing. It makes me feel soooooooooooo
good! Thank you Lord for bringing the
right people into my life at the right time! </span> <o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-43897353477133183742014-06-30T00:26:00.000-04:002014-06-30T13:51:26.589-04:00He Has My Face<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Recently my three year old has been begging for a bow and
arrow set. Frankly, I chose not to
purchase one for quite some time because he tends to be a bit uncoordinated. He’s
an amazing kid in so many areas. He’s crazy smart and very gifted when it comes
to reading and writing. I decided, recently, since he had his heart set on the
bow and arrow set that I would comply and buy him one. It’s moments like these
that I wish I had the power to see into the future. Had I been able to see Asher’s frustration in
trying to shoot an arrow I’m not sure I would have given it to him.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This has reminded me how God’s timing in my life is absolutely
perfect. There have been so many things
that I have prayed about for years.
Quite honestly there have been many times when I’ve wondered why God has
taken so long to respond to my requests. I wasn’t asking for millions of
dollars or to be famous. I was asking
for things like finding my birth family, to be out of so much physical pain,
and having babies. All very good things in my opinion. ;-)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> I started praying to
find my birth mom when I was in elementary school. I recall writing letters to
my mom telling her how much I loved her and that I understood why she had to
give me away. I tried to imagine what
she looked like. I wanted so much to
have someone…anyone who looked like me.
It has been about 35 years that I have prayed this prayer of finding my
mom or someone that was related to me. I began to realize that this
probably wasn’t going to happen. I
figured that my mom had probably already passed away. The worse scenario I imagined was that I
would find her and she wouldn't acknowledge me as being her daughter. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Last year sometime I bought a piece of black poster board
and a silver marker. I had decided to
make one of those posters you see on Facebook quite frequently. I’m sure you've seen them…requests to help
find a birth family member or a long lost loved one. I came home with the
poster board and literally prayed over it.
I slipped it behind our piano and told the Lord to please let me know
when He wanted me to actually post it.
It was almost a year before I felt He gave me the “OK.” I had looked at
that blank poster board many times. I
noticed it had become quite dusty and the corners were a little curled. I
came across the silver marker quite often.
I was nervous it would get used and I wouldn't have it when I needed
it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On my birthday this year my hubby and I went to a home-school
expo. This was not something I had been
hoping to do on my birthday but it just happened to be the same day. We returned home late afternoon and I had
about an hour before we had to leave to have dinner with some friends. I can’t
explain why I suddenly felt the need to grab that poster board but I did. I silently prayed and asked the Lord if I was
doing the right thing. I quickly filled
it out and had my hubby take my picture. I cropped it and posted it on FB and
we left for our evening out. As I
climbed into bed later that evening I wanted to see if anyone had shared my
picture. I was shocked and amazed to see
it had already been shared hundreds of times.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ecYlKUMffh_E-3A7psrjE6bsJV1CgpZdAFbZblm_haIBFQisD_WjE7fdZXmOuiXuRmYm4_GrTzSD0m94AYOtCYGYyH6W-nbzgTF59VnrvLQuknlEU53IlYQO1Q5vdWlw5sy2l0PKkBhQ/s1600/20140308_170413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ecYlKUMffh_E-3A7psrjE6bsJV1CgpZdAFbZblm_haIBFQisD_WjE7fdZXmOuiXuRmYm4_GrTzSD0m94AYOtCYGYyH6W-nbzgTF59VnrvLQuknlEU53IlYQO1Q5vdWlw5sy2l0PKkBhQ/s1600/20140308_170413.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Two days later a gal in Wayland, Michigan saw my picture and
showed her co-worker Troy. She said, “Troy,
this sounds just like your sister you’ve told me about.” He checked it out and agreed. He sent me a private message, but I never saw
it. Later that night Troy was in bed
falling asleep when his wife began to shake him quite vigorously and say, “Troy…Troy…she
has your cheeks. You MUST contact her!!!” He lazily leaned over to see what she was
talking about. He saw my picture and
casually said, “Yeah, I know…I already sent her a message. I’m sure it’s probably not her.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The next night I was getting into bed quite late…very normal
for me. I grabbed my computer to check
FB and see what was going on with my post. By this point it had been shared
over three thousand times. That totally
baffled my brain. I then checked my messages.
I had a LOT!!!! I came across one
from a guy named Troy that made me sit straight up in bed and made my heart
beat a little faster. It read: “<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">Hi I saw your post and have a question. Are you black and white? Sorry if this is
offensive. My mom gave up a mixed baby in the late 60's early 70's. She was
also adopted through DA Blodgett.</span>”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I had received lots
of other messages from people that were a total waste of my time but this one
actually caught my interest. So I went
to his FB page and looked at his picture. Upon seeing his face my heart hopped
into my throat. I grabbed my computer
and ran downstairs to show my husband. I
said, “LOOK JESSE…HE HAS MY FACE!!!!!” Jesse looked at me as if I had lost my
mind. He looked at the picture a couple
of times and said, “Hannah, I’m not seeing it.
I think your sleeping pill has kicked in. You really need to go to bed and get some
sleep…it’s late.” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was instantly
mad. Seriously? Did he really think it was even possible for
me to sleep at a time like this?????? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">“Jesse, really? You can’t
see that this guy looks like me? Dude,
He has my FACE!!!!!”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">“Babe, it’s late. I
know you want this to be your brother or whatever but I really think once you
sleep and look at this picture in the morning you’re going to see things
differently.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">“Jesse, I just messaged this Troy and he said I can call him…TONIGHT! I’m totally going to call him!”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">“Hannah, are you serious?
You are half asleep! I really
think you should sleep on this!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">“Jesse, I couldn't sleep right now if my life depended on
it. I know I’m supposed to obey you so could you please change your mind on
this so I can give this guy a call?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">“Ha, fine…call him…but don’t get your hopes up!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The last part of that statement was heard by me half way up
the stairs. ;-) Hee hee…not get my hopes up…too late for that!!!!! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It was probably after one in the morning at this point. I truly thought my heart was going to jump
out of my chest. I took a couple of deep
breaths and prayed. “Lord, if this isn't what I think it is please show me.
Please be with this conversation and help me to discern the truth. Help me to not give more information than I
should. Thank you for carrying me
through all of this. Lord, I’m scared… I
need Your strength.” I didn't close that
prayer because I knew I would be praying through my whole phone
conversation.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I can’t explain how much I wish I could have seen God’s face
at that very moment. I can’t compare
myself to God but when I think about how excited I was when I gave Asher his
silly bow and arrow set it makes me wonder how thrilled my heavenly Father must
have been for me at that moment. There
really is no comparison, BUT I couldn’t wait for Asher to try and shoot an
arrow. Can you even begin to imagine how
thrilled God must have been for me to talk to a possible brother? He probably elbowed his Son and said, “You’ve
got to watch this! This is going to be one of the biggest moments of her life. She’s waited so long for this, and prayed for
so many years. I sure do love to see how
happy she gets when We answer her prayers!”
OK, I don’t have a clue what He said, but I love to imagine things. ;-)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The conversation with Troy was beyond wonderful. Troy was</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and is my </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">brother. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">I finally had someone that looked like me…you see…he had my face. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO6F0YVXi5Pt0nf8spnjZsxvtZvjOYWVKAbyAyV4YzdWLc-3q1-s1_FjfBX_2FiZI9ATczeFrnJaT2_T3L6D5WLD-htTCrG-7SqvlGU7nLU1mDC1-lKugwPM0MJG2HRaWj51kK4x45zD_/s1600/20140329_193007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO6F0YVXi5Pt0nf8spnjZsxvtZvjOYWVKAbyAyV4YzdWLc-3q1-s1_FjfBX_2FiZI9ATczeFrnJaT2_T3L6D5WLD-htTCrG-7SqvlGU7nLU1mDC1-lKugwPM0MJG2HRaWj51kK4x45zD_/s1600/20140329_193007.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-4854280741189903062014-04-13T14:35:00.002-04:002014-04-13T14:41:29.155-04:00What Am I Wearing?????<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I struggle all the time with what to wear. I rarely feel like I’m dressed for the
occasion. I often feel either over or
under dressed. I loved it when I was in
school and we all wore the same uniform.
Absolutely no stress at all…same red, white, and blue outfit every
day. I didn’t even have to think about
it. My biggest concern was if I had a
clean uniform or not.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Someone asked me last week if I was “wearing” the suit God
had chosen for me or had I donned my own ensemble? I didn’t really know what she meant
at first, but she went on to explain that often we wear what is comfy instead
of what is given to us. If we're talking
actual clothes, you better believe, I’ll be choosing sweats and a t-shirt every
time! I’m comfy for sure, but not at all
attractive. ;-) Don’t get me wrong, occasionally I enjoy
getting all dolled up and adding all the fun accessories. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She, however, wasn’t talking about my everyday attire. She was talking about who I was as a person…my
character. What am I wearing? I didn’t even know how to answer the question. I’ve seen at times in my life that I slid
into the “victim” jacket. I think when
many areas of your life go awry it’s very easy to be the “victim.” Well, at
least it is for me. When you wear that jacket you often begin to believe the
lies that get whispered by the devil. “You
aren’t worth anything.” “You deserve to
be treated badly.” “No one really loves you…it’s all an act.” The whispers become so deafening that soon it
is all we can hear, think, and believe.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What about the coat of pride? You know, that comfy feeling of entitlement. After
all, we’ve trudged our way through the muck and mire of life…don’t we deserve
to be treated with respect?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Oh, and let’s not forget the cloak of passivity. You know, that cloak that fits so nicely and
no one really ever notices you. Because
if you’re not noticed then little will be required. Life is so full and busy…not to mention
HARD! If we wear that cloak life will be
easier, and maybe a little quieter. Sometimes
we just want to be left alone. We really desire to go unnoticed. That is until we do something WE feel should
deserve a bit of praise.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I often like to shrug on a shawl of depression. I can wrap myself up in it…engulf myself in its
darkness. I snuggle right down and take
a nice long nap in its warmth. When I’m
down and out I can isolate myself. I don’t
have to worry about responsibilities, or the demands of life. I can wallow in my own yuck. I can roll around in my self-pity, get dirty
in my “woe is me” attitude, and fling about a few “if only” phrases. It’s downright disgusting!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Today our pastor was talking about dying daily to self. Choosing to die every day to my own desires
and wants. Choosing instead to live my
life for Christ. Sometimes I don’t have
a clue what that even means. Thankfully, like pastor said, all we have to do is
slip into His yoke. Jesus said, “Take my
yoke upon you and learn from Me. For I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you
will find rest for your souls.” I NEED a
teacher. I’m not a good leader. It is music to my ears to know that I won’t
have to lead when I choose to wear the yoke with Christ. I need someone who
will gently lead me. I don’t do well
with cruel treatment by authority. Then
He adds that if I choose this, that I will find rest for my soul. Come on…who doesn’t want that?!?!?! For myself, I like to try to convince myself
that when I’m wearing the shawl of depression that I’m getting peace. That is the furthest thing from the
truth. There is NO peace when I’m
depressed. There is no rest.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So I’ve made a decision today. I’ll continue to wear my comfy sweats when it’s
appropriate…only around the house. I
will also choose to wake up each morning and thank the Lord for a new day and
then slide into my side of the yoke. I can’t wait to see what my wardrobe of
life will look like once I start doing this.
No more the frumpy attire of sin but instead I’ll be able to wear the armor of
God. My closet will be full of truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation.
I believe then I’ll even have the beautiful accessories of the fruit of the
Spirit He talks about in Galatians 5:22-23 For the fruit of the Spirit is love,
joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Who wouldn’t want to wear those gems????? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It’s such a nice feeling not having to worry about what I’m
going to wear tomorrow. I already have
it picked out! </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-19923462428480459712014-01-04T19:24:00.001-05:002014-01-04T19:24:42.471-05:00Happy Fourth Birthday, Uriah<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dear Uriah,<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Happy fourth birthday, big guy! I was wondering, if you were still with me here on earth, what I would have given you for your birthday gift this year. Four year old little boys are pretty easy to buy for. It would just depend on what your likes and dislikes were. Now when your older brother Abner was four he would have wanted anything with Bob the builder, or a gun. I think when Abner turned four I gave him a Gator truck…he LOVED it. In fact, he still talks about it. He would drive that thing all over the place. He would drive over to Grandpa and Grandma Snyder’s house all by himself. He thought he was pretty big stuff! Your little brother, Asher, is completely different than Abner. I think when he turns four this year he will want books, or puzzles, or maybe some cars. So it makes me stop and think about what you would have liked. I have a funny feeling you would have been more like Abner. You never stopped moving while you were inside of me…just like Abner. I think you probably would have liked a bow and arrow set, a bouncing horse, or your very first BB gun. <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve been given some amazing gifts in my lifetime. As a little girl one of my favorite gifts was a music box. I would sit and listen to it for hours. My favorite gift for Christmas this year was a memory book about you. I love it so much. It makes me cry, but it makes me very happy too. I only cry because I miss you. I’m thrilled that you are in heaven with Jesus, though. Our heavenly Father is amazing, as you well know. He always does what is best for us. He gives and He takes away, but only for our good. God has given me the most amazing gifts ever. He gave me the gift of salvation. I’m so glad He offered and I accepted. He gives me unconditional love, grace, and favor. He has given me 5 beautiful babies. He gave me your amazing daddy! He gave me YOU! I had you inside of me for 41 wonderful weeks, and then He let me enjoy you here on earth for 2 whole days. Many, many mommies don’t get to enjoy their babies for that long so I’m extremely thankful for that gift!<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to tell you why you were such an amazing gift to me. When I found out you were growing inside of me I was beyond thrilled. The sad part was that at that time I didn’t love Jesus and I didn’t believe that He loved me. I had loved Him for many years, but people here on earth had hurt me very badly. People who had told me that they loved Jesus but sure didn’t act like it. So I had made up my mind that I didn’t want anything to do with people that pretended to love Him, nor did I want Him. The great thing about God is that He never leaves us…even when we feel like we don’t want or need Him.</span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For many years I had told myself that I was unlovable. I told myself that people and God didn’t and couldn’t love me. When you tell yourself something long enough you believe it. It can be the biggest lie on the planet but we believe it anyway. God gave me another gift during that time. It was a person who REALLY loved God. His name is Pastor Dan Mead. Every single time Pastor Mead saw me he would smile. He would hug me. He would tell me he loved me. Don’t tell him this but I didn’t believe him. Probably because of that big ole lie I kept telling myself. Anyway, he would also tell me how much God loved me. He even tried to prove it to me by reading me verses from the Bible that proclaimed God’s love to me. I still didn’t believe. I told him that God loved EVERYBODY but for some reason He had chosen to stop loving me. During this time I rarely took my eyes off of the floor. My head was always down. Probably because I didn’t have the strength to look up. Also, I didn’t want to see all those hurtful people around me pretending to live a life of love. Pastor Mead would put his hand under my chin and make me look at him. I didn’t much like that, but it was needed. Week after week and month after month Pastor Mead repeated those words and verses to me. When I would leave his office I would feel a little bit better but I still wasn’t able to accept that gift.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then I started feeling you move and grow inside of me and I knew I had to change my thoughts. I didn’t want you to grow up feeling unloved. I knew how that felt and I didn’t want you to ever feel that way, so I made a decision to try one more time. I was going to try to accept that love again. The funny thing was that love was always there…I had just refused to take it. Then on November 15, 2009 my eyes were finally opened and I saw the truth. Not only did I see it but I accepted it and felt it. What an amazing thing God’s love is. Ha, I’m telling you something you already know full well.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Six weeks later you were born, and two days later you died. You know what I think? I think God knew I needed you in order to accept that love from Him and live the abundant life He had for me. I don’t know why you had to die and be with Jesus, but I’m thrilled that you are there. You’ve never had to feel unloved. You’ve never had to feel unwanted. You’ve never had to feel betrayed by those who say they love you. You have lived in perfection from the moment you opened your eyes. That is the most awesome gift ever. I have a feeling you are very thankful for it. <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So even though it is your birthday and I didn’t get a gift for you, I want to thank you for being that little wonderful gift for me. You were the perfect gift that made me realize how much Jesus loves me. Well, you and Pastor Mead. ;-) Thank you Uriah…I love you so much and I can’t for a second imagine my life without you…even if it was only for a short time.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your loving Mommy</span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.S.</span><br /><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is your Christmas ornament this year. :-)</span></span></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-42787263000202681362014-01-01T19:44:00.003-05:002014-01-01T20:22:09.571-05:00Fibromyalgia...what a pain...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My goal for this year is to be more consistent in writing on
my blog. Although, I’m pretty sure that was a goal for me last year, too. Hmmm, do I at least get an A for effort???<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The last few weeks have been quite the challenge for
me. Had I known how difficult life would
be today, I may have made a different choice a few months back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Last January my youngest daughter quit breastfeeding. I
really don’t blame her any. I was only
able to make about two to three ounces a day with her. She had a lip tie to boot so she didn’t enjoy
it at all. So since I was no longer
breastfeeding or pregnant I wanted to do something to help with my fibromyalgia
pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Fibromyalgia…what a pain…no pun intended! Ok, maybe a little
bit intended. ;o) It’s almost an indescribable pain. For me, if you touch my skin and use any
pressure at all it HURTS! Then add on the deep muscle pain. You know what that
is…when you make that New Year’s resolution about working out every day! You go into the gym and take that spin class
and give it all you got. You leave the
gym feeling like Shaquille O’Neal. You’re
on top of the world! You shower and go to bed excited about looking and feeling
like the Rock! Then you wake up in the middle of the night to
use the potty because you also drank 1,400 gallons of water while getting so
buff. You sit up and attempt to move your leg off of the side of the bed. The
pain you’re feeling causes your eyes to pop out of your head. You stifle a
primal scream and quickly disengage your leg muscle and try to breathe normally
again. You close your eyes trying to
decide if it would be better to spend the rest of the night in agony from your
need to use the bathroom, or die from the pain half way to the potty room. That’s what my muscles feel like. Now, add the
chronic back and neck pain. It feels as if you have a knife in your lower back,
upper shoulder, and neck…at all times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I had been without fibro meds since 2009. I have either been
pregnant or nursing so none of the meds were an option. So last January I
wanted to do a cartwheel because I knew I could begin to take something and get
back to living without as much pain. Nothing takes away all of the pain, but if
you can somehow lessen the pain life begins to feel manageable again. My doctor suggested that I start taking
Cymbalta. She said the side effects were very minimal, and that most people
didn’t experience any of them. By February I was in a very good place with my pain
level. My pain level had been an 8 or 9
most days. A month into the meds I was
down to a 4 or 5. Aaahhhhh, now that is much
more manageable in my opinion. In August
I forgot to take my medication one night.
Not a big deal right?
WRONG!!! The next day I was in so
much pain I couldn’t walk. I lay on the
couch all day…trying to be a mom and wife.
I remember praying that God would take me home because I couldn’t handle
this level of pain. My awesome hubby did
some research and found some very disturbing facts about this med. He wanted me to go off the med. I wanted him to mind his own business. I’m joking…kinda. It just didn’t compute in my brain to stop
taking a med that helped the pain so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After a couple of weeks I did my own research. I chose not to tell Jesse because I didn’t
want to be swayed by my love for him and wanting to please him. I needed to
decide what was best for me. What was
best for my everyday life. How would I
manage my pain and take care of my husband, my children, my house, and
myself. I was appalled at what I read!
How could a pharmaceutical company even consider distributing this medication? The side effects for this medication are far
beyond horrendous. What it had already started to do to my body and brain was
not acceptable. I realize I’m not a
young lady anymore but I’m NOT old and I have a lot of life left to live! So I started to taper off of the med. I started
the end of September. I had done enough
research to know that this would take many weeks to finally be off the
med. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was honestly surprised at how smoothly it went. About a week before Christmas I stopped
taking it completely. Prior to that week
I had been taking a very small dose every 2-3 days. By a day or two after Christmas I thought I
would lose my mind. The pain was back with a vengeance…Pain had brought his
extended family and friends. On top of the pain was
the way my mind seemingly stopped working.
I couldn’t remember ANYTHING! I would say a word and hear myself say
THAT word. However, a completely different word would actually come out of my
mouth. For instance, I would say, “Phebe,
would you please go get the clothes out of the drier?” What I actually said was, “Abner, would you
please go get the food out of the cupboard?” Abner wasn’t even in the room, and
Phebe looked at me like I had lost my ever living mind! I was also extremely
dizzy. So dizzy I didn’t even feel
comfortable driving. I was also
EXTREMELY agitated and angry. Nothing
was wrong in my life but I felt like EVERYTHING was wrong. I started speaking words of truth to
myself. That may sound stupid, but I
knew I needed to do this if I was going to make it through these extremely
rough days. I tried to stay away from my children and hubby because I didn’t
want to say things I would regret later.
The problem was everyone was on Christmas break so we seemed to always
be together. So I took VERY long baths
and spent a lot of time in my bedroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So here I am today…wondering if I made the right
decision. I’m not really wondering. I
know I made the right decision. My
biggest fear is that this pain and anxiety may never go away. I’ve read that many people who have stopped
taking this medication have not recovered.
I’m doing everything in my power to not be one of those people. I have an amazing chiropractor that is
helping me every step of the way. He has
found many natural supplements that should help. I’ve only been on these supplements a couple
of days, so time will tell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So why did I write about this today? I don’t have a clue.
Maybe because this is all I can think about right now. Maybe because someone
may read this and decide against taking a medication that should never be given
to ANYONE, or at least do some research first. Maybe because I just needed to vent a little. I’m not sure, but I do feel a bit better!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">At least I haven’t failed on my New Year’s resolution…yet. I’m writing and posting. Go me!!!!!!!</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-67762243682380592932013-04-29T22:01:00.000-04:002013-04-29T22:01:58.446-04:00I love my Father!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It’s amazing how difficult it is to find time to write on my
blog. I’m not complaining, mind you, it’s just crazy how busy life is with
little ones. I had to take the time today, though, because I can’t help but
brag on my Father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I had to run to the grocery store today to get a few things.
I had $100.00 exactly to spend. I did have an extra $20 in my pocket that my
hubby had given me to buy something for myself. He’s sweet that way. ;-) I did
my best to add everything in my head as I shopped, but I often found myself
wondering if the total was correct. I
tend to daydream while shopping. I was
running a bit late and sent a quick prayer up that I would have enough money.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I walked up to the checkout line hoping to get through
quickly. Why I ever hope for this I will never know. It seems to never fail
that something happens. Usually the customers in front of me have 4 million
coupons, can’t find their debit card, or they want things bagged a certain way.
This time the lady didn’t have enough cash. She was pulling things out of the 2
little bags that she had and asking the cashier to take them off. The cashier
acted put out. I have to admit I had a desire to slap the cashier. It’s not
like we all haven’t been in that situation. So I began to pray. I told the Lord
if I had a lot of money I would just pay for the lady’s groceries. He seemed to
nudge me and say, “I will supply your need.” Again I repeated that IF I had a
lot of money I would help this dear lady out. I thought possibly He hadn’t
heard me the first time. Again He said, “I will supply.” I just shook my head and took a deep breath.
I sometimes have issues with trust. So I leaned in and told the cashier I would
pay the difference. I thought her teeth were going to fall out. The customer
that was in between me and the distraught woman turned to me with a scowl and a
look of disbelief. I just smiled…and swallowed real hard. The cashier asked if
I was sure. I nodded that I was. So she relayed the message. The woman I was
trying to help almost burst into tears. She thanked me over and over again. I
told her it was no big deal and we’ve all been in her shoes. The nosey cashier noticed that the woman had
some cash hanging out of her purse and pointed it out to the woman. The poor lady tried to explain that she
needed that $5.00 to put gas in her car to get home to her sick daughter. The
cashier just shook her head. I wanted to ask her if she was a CPA why in the
world was she working at Meijer, but I kept my mouth shut. Anyway, everything
got paid and the lady went on her way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The next customer in line was getting rung up and she looked
at me…no longer with a scowl, and said, “You have renewed my faith in mankind!”
The cashier then asked her how she was doing and she stated, “GOOD NOW!” She
couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. I told her that the Lord had been so
good to me that I just wanted to share His goodness with others. Again she smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Then it was my turn. I knew now all I had left was the
$100.00. I’m not going to lie…I was nervous.
I really didn’t think I had added correctly. The cashier proceeded to
tell me her life troubles. I was truly
trying to listen but I was so nervous I had a hard time concentrating. When she rang the last item up she sort of
giggled and said, “Wow, you don’t see that very often.” I looked up to see that
the total was $100.00 even. SERIOUSLY!?!?!?!
I just started to laugh. I told the cashier that all I had was $100.00
and wasn’t God good! She seemed to get
quite upset and asked me why on earth would I help a stranger if I knew I didn’t
have deep pockets? I said, “Because my heavenly Father DOES have deep pockets
and He never ceases to take care of me.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">But wait…there’s more!!!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As soon as I had said that to her, the coupon dispenser
started spitting out coupons like there was no tomorrow. The cashier looked at me, looked at the long
roll of coupons, looked up (I’m assuming she was wondering if she could see God
at that moment), and then asked me if I used coupons. I said I sure did. She handed them to me and
I couldn’t wait to see the total. Yep, you guessed it. The total of the coupons
was exactly double what I had given the lady AND it was all items that my
family uses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Isn’t God amazingly good to us? I can just picture Him
sitting on the edge of His throne. With a twinkle in His eye He probably
elbowed His Son and said, “I can’t wait to see her face when she sees that
total!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I love Him so much and I can’t wait to see how He will surprise
me next with His never-ending goodness!</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-534576927859859862013-02-19T19:14:00.000-05:002013-02-19T19:15:25.725-05:00Before We Knew<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Today I will begin to tell some things about my family. I’ve
wanted to do this for quite some time, but didn’t know where to start. I
finally asked my oldest daughter if I could share some of her life with the
world. She quickly said, “Yes!” I, however, wanted her to pray and think about
it for a while. She came back and again told me it was ok. The issue with
telling people about our family is that I won’t be believed and there will be
judgment from others. I’ve come to
realize it doesn’t matter if people believe me or not. What matters is whether
or not I’m being honest…I am!!! So, if you feel the need to disbelieve or judge
go right ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Phebe is my oldest daughter. I was able to adopt her when
she was just a baby. She is a beautiful young lady inside and out. In fact, she
is more the person I want to be than what I actually am. She’s loving, patient,
pretty, thin, empathetic, hardworking, and so understanding. There’s so much
more, but I’m sure you get the point. She’s not perfect, mind you, and there
are many things that she works on daily. When she was little she was such a
good girl. She was very obedient and just fun to be around. She was very smart
and had memorized many verses by the age of 3. Phebe was able to always make me smile even
when I didn’t feel like it. I have to admit as a young mom I was way too strict
with her. She dealt with my strictness very well. She was extremely obedient. A few years later she became so different.
She lied a lot, and she didn’t seem to care if she got in trouble. She seemingly changed into another person. I
still loved her. I just didn’t enjoy being with her as much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I worked many hours at that time. I left the house around
2:30 in the afternoon. This was right in the middle of nap-time for Abner, my 2
year old. Phebe would get home from school right when I left. She would wait
for Abner to wake up, and then they would walk next door to my parents’ house. She
was only 8 at the time, but was more than capable of doing this. Before she
left our house she was supposed to call my mom to let her know they were on
their way over. One particular day my mom was outside and didn’t hear the phone
ring. Phebe left a message that they were walking over and thought she had hung
the phone up. She hadn’t…so you could hear everything that was going on in the
house. You could hear her screaming at her little brother. She would yell and
then either hit or kick him. He was crying and begging her to stop. This went
on for quite some time. When I heard the message I cried uncontrollably. I just
couldn’t understand what had made Phebe so angry. I confronted her with the
tape and she swore up and down that she hadn’t done anything like that to her
brother. I was flabbergasted. How could she deny what was so apparent?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Another time I found knives all over the house when I came
home from work. They were in the bathroom, under the couch, in her bedroom…everywhere.
When I asked why she had done that she again denied it. No one else was in the
house except Abner and he was 2. He couldn’t even reach the knives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">When Phebe was in the 3<sup>rd</sup> grade I received a call
from the school. Phebe had been caught red-handed cheating. I went to the
school to talk to her. The principal and pastor had already talked to her but
didn’t get anywhere with her. I talked to her for hours. My mom talked to her
on the phone. My dad left work and came to talk to her. She denied, denied,
denied. <i> </i> I
was angry, confused, and ready to give up. When you’re a parent you don’t get
the option of giving up, though. So I prayed for her and got her into counseling.
We went through many counselors. Most of them just said they didn’t understand,
but I was wasting my money trying to get her help. I knew it wasn’t a waste. I
knew she just needed the right counselor.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I remember saying, “If I didn’t know better I would say she
had Multiple Personality Disorder.” It was so frustrating. I would explain how
to do something, like how to wash the dishes. Then next time I would tell her
to do dishes she would say she didn’t know how because she’s never done it
before. I would get so angry with her.
Her bedroom would become an absolute mess. So I would go in and just clean,
clean, clean. I would find tons of food, dishes, and silverware. I would line
everything up and ask her why she had put them in her room. You guessed it…she
would say she never took that stuff in her room. This would happen about 4-6
times a year. Every time she was asked why she did something she would deny it.
I was so sick of the lies. It’s
something that just makes my blood boil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She also never had a sense of direction…at all!!!! We lived in the same house from the time she
was 6 until she was 16. We went to the same church, stores, and gas stations.
Our church/school was 4 miles from our house. She went to that building almost
every day of those 10 years. She had no clue how to get there. It was only 2
turns. I just couldn’t understand. Phebe
wasn’t dumb by any stretch of the imagination. In fact she is quite smart. I
remember when she was 15 my hubby and I were trying to figure out what school
grade to put her in that year. We were planning on homeschooling and ordered a
packet of tests. In each subject she had 3 or 4 tests. They were all VERY
similar. In each subject the results showed that she needed to be in as many
different grades. For example in English she tested to be in 10<sup>th</sup>, 3<sup>rd</sup>,
6<sup>th</sup>, and 9<sup>th</sup> grade. It didn’t make a lick of sense. We
didn’t have a clue as to what grade to put her in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">By the time she reached her teenage years my relationship
with her was strained, to say the least. If she entered the room, I exited and vice
versa. We argued constantly. I wanted my
little Phebe back, and I didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted. Actually, I
don’t believe she knew what she wanted. Nothing really made her happy. I
encouraged her to have friends over, but she wouldn’t. One year her birthday
gift was money and being able to take 2 friends to the mall. She refused to do
it. I asked her hundreds of times what was wrong. I asked if someone had hurt
her. I asked if she was mad at someone. I asked if she was scared. I asked if
she hated me. I asked if she wanted to go back to Haiti. I asked if she was a
Christian. I asked if she was sad. I asked if she was happy. She just never had
a clear answer for anything.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I didn’t know how to help her, but I never gave up.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-4706043061130982232013-02-01T00:52:00.001-05:002013-02-01T00:52:27.696-05:00Uriah, three years old<br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Three years old is what you’d be<br />
on January Third.<br />
I’ll try to write how you would be<br />
in just a few short words.<br />
You’d probably be very tall<br />
and know your ABC’s.<br />
Your older brother, Abner,<br />
would teach you to climb trees.<br />
Phebe would be proud of you<br />
and pictures she would take.<br />
She’d capture all your silliness<br />
and crafts that you would make.<br />
Your little brother, Asher,<br />would be your constant shadow.<br />
You’d probably try to hide from him<br />
but he would always follow.<br />
You have another sister,<br />
Selah Grace is her name.<br />
Were you there in the room<br />
the day that she came?<br />
Daddy and Mommy miss you<br />
more than words can ever say.<br />
You would still be in my arms<br />
if I could have my way.<br />
But for now, my precious boy,<br />
I’ll just dream of you.<br />
It won’t be long and I'll be there<br />
in Heaven with you, too.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-27097618749768790882012-12-16T00:32:00.000-05:002012-12-16T00:51:08.582-05:00Christmas memories<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I went to our church’s annual Christmas program and had a
wonderful time. Every year they do
something a little different. This year
they had a few people from the choir and orchestra tell of past Christmases
that they had enjoyed. It made me stop and think about my own Christmas
memories. I seemingly have a VERY bad memory. I have had 40 Christmases so far.
I can only remember 2 of them. Wow, that is pathetic. I guess I need to up my
Omega 3 intake. ;-)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The first Christmas I remembered is when I was eight years old.
On Christmas Eve that year my oldest brother Jim, his wife Linda, and their
little baby Becca came for Christmas. Jim was a wonderful older brother to me. He used to call me Lena Horn…funny guy. That
night he and Linda had bought me a Connect Four game. My younger sister Flossie and I played it
non-stop after I opened it. We had a
blast that night. After a fun-filled
evening Jim, Linda, and Becca gathered their things and got ready to go
home. Everyone headed outside to wave
good-bye. Flossie and I however decided to stay in and play our new game. My
dad stepped back in the house and said, “You two get out here and say good-bye.
You never know if this might be the last time you see your brother.” I was a
tad peeved that I had to go outside, but I was soon hugging and kissing and
waving along with the rest of the family.
Little did my dad know that he was being quite prophetic in that moment.
The next day…Christmas…the phone rang. I
answered it and was surprised to hear one of Linda’s family members on the
phone asking to talk to one of my parents. Jim had been accidentally shot that
day in a hunting accident. He died on
the way to the hospital. This was a VERY difficult time for my family. None of
us wanted to go on. We all slept together in the living room for many weeks. No one wanted to be alone. I remember going
to sleep listening to my family sniffle and cry. We had a few animals at the
time and my dad and I often did chores together. We would walk back to the house from the barn
hand in hand. Usually half way back dad would turn to me and say, “Just think
Hannah…we are one day closer to seeing Jim.” It was such a comfort to think about
that. Christmas has never been the same since.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The second Christmas I remember is the year I was pregnant
with Uriah. I was due on the 27<sup>th </sup>of December. My doctor had told me
she would induce me 3 weeks earlier, but decided she didn’t want to be bothered
over the holiday. I was miserable. I was in so much pain I could hardly walk. All
I wanted was to hold my baby in my arms. I have to admit I didn’t enjoy
Christmas much that year. All I could think about was having that baby. A week
later I did…only to have him die as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This Christmas I will remember as well. This Christmas will
be remembered by many. The parents of 20 first graders will NEVER be able to
forget this Christmas. What an awful memory for these families. I had presents
for Uriah under the tree that Christmas just before he was born. I’m sure these
families do as well for their children. Can you imagine what it must be like for them?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Some people may look at the two Christmases that I remember
as awful memories. I suppose I could focus on the negative of those Christmases,
but I chose not to do that. Instead I
think of my wonderful brother having been able to enjoy the last 32 years with
his Lord and Savior. He’s been able to be with Uriah for the last 3 years. I
bet he has just about pinched Uriah’s cheeks until they are almost raw. My
family will know what I mean by that. Today I am another day closer to seeing them both. I am ready to see them.
Ready for people I love to stop hurting. Ready for this world to stop hurting
each other. Ready for the killing to stop. Ready to have Christmas every day in
Heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I’m ready….are you?
If you’re not ready for heaven, don’t you want to be? If you don’t know
for sure you’re going to heaven someday, please message me and I will be more
than happy to share with you how you can know and be ready to enjoy eternity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Merry Christmas and may every Christmas that you have be a
fond memory for years to come.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-8382198093920357652012-08-15T23:40:00.003-04:002012-08-15T23:46:35.785-04:00Color<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">One of my favorite memories of Phebe, when she was little, is actually centered around a picture. She had a little friend her age…probably around 5 years old. Her friend was VERY white and Phebe was VERY black. The picture was of just their hands. Her friend saw the picture and asked </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">which hand was hers and which hand was Phebe’s. I remember loving the fact that the color of skin wasn’t noticed even though this little girl knew her colors.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">Growing up bi-racial in an all-white community was…well…let’s just say interesting. I was called a few colorful names. I never told anyone. Those names hurt me to the core. I think it’s funny how as I get older my skin seems to get lighter. When I was little I remember wishing I could take a bath in bleach so that I could look like the rest of my family. I would try to stay out of the su</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">n as much as possible just so I didn’t get too dark. The problem was I loved to swim too much to not be in the sun. Now most people don’t even realize I’m part black. Shoot, my husband didn’t even know it until he heard me talking about it a few months after we were married. :-)</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">My son Abner is quite dark too. He has had some very rude and crude comments said to him over the years. I recall when he was </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">about 6 he came to me and asked what a certain word meant. I asked him where he had heard it. He said his fellow teammate in T-ball had called him that. For me that was a very sad day. I try to protect my children, but sometimes it’s just impossible.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">I’m sure a lot of people would think I’m too concerned with color. I don’t really care. I do everything I can to protect my children from cruelty. Today someone stopped by the house to pick something up I was giving away. I wasn’t looking my best so I was going to send Phebe to the door. I suddenly was afraid that the people wouldn’t take it because a black person was giving it to th</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">em. So at the last second I sent Abner to the door and told him to be a gentleman. Abner is a bit lighter than Phebe so I was hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. I listened from the living room to the whole conversation. To be honest I was a nervous wreck. I imagined this woman throwing the item away the first chance she got. A couple hours later I received an email from her. She wanted to thank me for the item and to praise my son for having such good manners. WOW! I decided to let her know my fears. She wrote back and said I was a silly woman. That I should be thankful I have such a wonderful son, and that I must be a very good mom to have a son like mine. She agreed that we do live in a very funny worl</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">d and she understood my fear, but that for her it wasn’t a problem.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Isn’t it funny how we can let our imagination run wild? Well, maybe you don’t, but I sure can at times. We have lived in the Kalamazoo area for almost 2 years now. It just struck me today that since we’ve lived here we only have had one incident concerning color. Maybe it’s time for me to relax a bit about this issue and enjoy where we live. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">I’ve wondered many times who will marry my older children. Will they be the same color? I couldn’t care less, but many people don’t feel that way. I love how Moses married a black woman, and God honored th</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">eir marriage. In fact, he caused Miriam to have leprosy for making fun of his black wife. I wish I could do that sometimes. I pray that my children marry godly spouses. I don’t care what color they are. I also pray that if they are a different race that the extended family will accept them just for whom they are.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">So tonight I rest my head…thrilled that we live in an area that accepts my family and go to a church that loves my family! We have quite the array of color. I’m anxious to see what our new little one will look like. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">I would love it if she was as dark as her </span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;">big sister. Boy, wouldn't that turn a few he</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family:georgia;">ads. *snicker snicker*</span></span></p><span style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwD8OtN66ZcNX14XaryiUsGLM7GX_zjD-gPRE4fj455IejGr79EuPfW3ggc0hLPt-STQtY9EzStOMbpruBBp9kzaTunpfbEgAyZgxOvFvnEEx3CR0EsVsJwbwwPPdH2R-SYkg9JFl3ob9/s320/128.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5777111421996738930" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span><div style="font-size: 100%; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-44169679469210395062012-08-12T21:35:00.006-04:002012-08-12T22:19:21.181-04:00Singing<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">My husband and I have been trying to explain to our teenagers the importance of praising the Lord through song. I’m beginning to wonder if it will ever make any sense to them. I myself LOVE to sing…especially to the Lord. I've noticed since Uriah died that the lyrics of many songs I sing have such a new and different meaning. Heaven seems so much sweeter, God’s grace is much more meaningful, and Jesus’ love is more precious.</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Tonight in church we let little Asher sit with us during the song service. He loves music more than any other child I have ever known. He always wants me to sing to him, and he LOVES to sit on his daddy’s lap and listen to him play the piano. So it only made sense to let him enjoy the song service. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I've tried many times to get him to sing. The closest thing he’s done is say e-i-e-i-o. Tonight we were singing a song Steve Green used to sing called “Lamb of Glory”. Asher was sitting all relaxed on Jesse’s lap. He suddenly sat up and stared at me while I sang. Within a few seconds he started singing, “Ha-way-woo-ya….ha-way-woo-ya!” Hallelujah wasn’t even a part of the song. Well, it wasn’t one of the words in the lyrics, but for some reason Asher heard ‘Hallelujah’. I’m positive that’s what God heard as well. I couldn’t keep from crying. Did the Lord cry? I don’t know, but I do know that was the most precious sound I had heard in a very long time.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Abner mentioned on the way home that it was very distracting when Asher sang so loud. He was right…it was distracting but in a very good way. I wish the whole world would have been distracted by his innocence. I wish the whole world could be distracted by God’s unconditional love, grace, and forgiveness.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">We had a little singspiration at our house tonight...</span></p><br /><br /><span style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdJcLXNGi-CQKAPfQgc3m-IUTk1eGHMLQL0r21Za1XBxKWz38bpKLas4qLinYYJBVG7hW8V_72vh_70h044xrlCQZnrxT0q65eykX4j7lj-QgrHVn17uy6da8yguOVHj2vM8pEVGzbr1u/s320/IMG_2843.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5775971780829154946" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 320px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">He was really getting into it!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqzQd0GiykFwqTn7DQAQoSDZJiFwxciDC8B8wxDZlh4gW63rQPJmhwGdlIzk9m39A5N-wL6Z8mpzWgxMo6g9Mza0A-Y6ID9Cc0FkuQZR5Au5u38gU-uhyphenhyphenjYGAybd0cJ_oSJb4y9TKi6Q_/s320/IMG_2844.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5775972076251316994" style="text-align: left; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"></span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"> So was daddy :o)</span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6jWFCo_xBN7OSBlnNp-v6k2DOOD71qLFzzp9qrlL_pjktdk5G9UxIuJo4hmoFMgvbhm4gk0panelLgetBQQqDxxv2cfPwua9ZKviTc9rrfvGVNwhMf5jJc0v1ij0IwMBk-us33SBfhTB/s320/IMG_2846.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5775973078800445442" style="text-align: left; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 254px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Make a joyful noise unto the Lord!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/K1IZctxGmFA?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-29982352001592981602012-07-10T21:17:00.012-04:002012-07-10T22:01:07.552-04:00A smile on my face<div align="left"><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">This past Sunday a man sat in front of me holding a new baby. The baby was nestled into his neck sleeping soundly. Every so often this man would tip his head down and kiss the baby’s head and linger for a moment to catch that sweet baby smell. I have to admit I was a bit jealous. There just isn’t anything like holding a new baby. Do you remember the first time you held your children? I do…and with each one it was pure love and happiness. </span></div><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"><div align="left"><br />Each morning my alarm clock is my little 20 month old Asher. He shares a room with his older brother, but for some reason the older brother is deaf in the morning. ;-) It<br />doesn’t matter how tired I am…when I hear Asher start to jabber away each day it brings a smile to my face. While we were on vacation I would wake up and call for him. He would start talking “his talk,” and come running to my side of the bed. I would pull him up on my lap and he would continue to tell me…well, I’m not sure what he was telling me, but I could tell it was VERY important! When he was finished with his tale or request he would jump off the bed and go back to whatever it was he was doing before. I LOVE these moments with him. I crave these moments with him. My older kids will come and talk to me, but it doesn’t seem as often anymore, and this makes me sad.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">I began to think about my heavenly Father, and I wonder if He feels this way about me. Does he look forward to my first word to Him in the morning? Does it bring a smile to His face? Does He miss it when I forget or don’t have time? Does He love it?<br />Does He crave it? I believe the answer to all of those questions is YES!!!!!!!!! I can picture Him tilting His head down as I sleep and kissing the top of my head…lingering to catch my fragrance. I believe He sits with anxious anticipation waiting for me to wake and talk to Him. Sometimes when I talk to Him it doesn’t make a lick of sense, but I think He understands anyways. </div><div align="left"><br />Zephaniah 3:17<br />“The Lord your God is in your midst,<br />A victorious warrior.<br />He will exalt over you with joy,<br />He will be quiet in His love,<br />He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><br />Isn’t that something??? He will rejoice over me with shouts of joy! That’s how I<br />feel about my children. How much more must God feel that way about me. No, I’m<br />not perfect…not even close. Yet, He loves me, He exalts over me, and He shouts for joy. All I can do is shake my head in amazement, and talk to Him each morning. I want to always bring a smile to His face!<br /></div></span>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-69712166310525904582012-06-05T22:40:00.000-04:002012-06-05T22:40:04.375-04:00Strawberry jam<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After moving to our new home almost 2 years ago I never even
thought about where I would find fresh produce. Last year we had so many issues
with Phebe I didn’t get to put many things up. My poor son was about ready to
have me horsewhipped if I didn’t provide him with more homemade strawberry jam. I started asking around about where to find
fresh strawberries and I finally received a good lead on fresh berries…even though
it was 40 minutes away. It actually
ended up being further away than that because I forgot my purse and had to go
back ½ ways to meet up with my hubby who was kind enough to bring it to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">When I was asking around about berries everyone kept asking what I did with them. When I told them I made jam they started asking to come and watch because they had never made it. I was amazed at how many people had never done this. So I planned on having a group of ladies over for a fun evening of jam making. However, no one’s schedule seemed to match up with mine. Sooooooooooooooooo I am going to post how I make my freezer jam.
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've been making this since I was a teenager and I hope to soon pass the torch of jam making on to one of my children. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Asher isn't allowed to have jam...too much sugar. So he eats the berries til they come out his ears. :o)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">These are all the ingredients.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">These are the supplies I use. (I forgot to put the whisk in the picture)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This is 4 quarts of berries. This is also the boring part. Don't tell my kids...I tell them this is the best part. ;-)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The finished product...nice and clean!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">OK so this is how the recipe says to mash them. I used to and then I woke up...20 years later. Grrrr!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Once I wised up I started using a food processor. Just remember to keep it chunky. At least that's how we like it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">In a saucepan pour 3 cups of sugar. Isn't that nuts? This is the low sugar recipe too!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Then add a box of Sure*Jell, whisk well, and add 1 cup of water.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Heat over medium heat, and stir until your arm breaks off. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After it comes to a rolling boil stir for another minute. Ok, so my first batch I have no clue how long it boiled because poor Mr. Asher was having a nervous breakdown I needed to attend to. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KejJZwiiuU4Hj-SA3zrxqW-h5tlqOWTSMHTzDDtPey3XgqIJl3tjPVVbePWhqscJYVJ8Fla3DFFCCaX4FfWEsgW-i9VXJf82ksvwLZ7a7q1XsBdZCXotQbF9oDmoG31V1Ml031O3n_Q0/s1600/phebes+camera+20120605+106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KejJZwiiuU4Hj-SA3zrxqW-h5tlqOWTSMHTzDDtPey3XgqIJl3tjPVVbePWhqscJYVJ8Fla3DFFCCaX4FfWEsgW-i9VXJf82ksvwLZ7a7q1XsBdZCXotQbF9oDmoG31V1Ml031O3n_Q0/s320/phebes+camera+20120605+106.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Pour boiling mixture into 4 cups of crushed berries. Stir for another minute.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm957EcRzgKeRbFJ5dxz1AiUZuQiDSA3L-SFUik_Tb0L7kVQ-BPYqeA1aLYf2QX9omYoKzDSIGUDGwwVy72p3tWU7B1zW57iJOY0KcvkBtrNSE2HdZMNSWzx_giMd-3u3rsBO6Dw7KQ4nJ/s1600/phebes+camera+20120605+107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm957EcRzgKeRbFJ5dxz1AiUZuQiDSA3L-SFUik_Tb0L7kVQ-BPYqeA1aLYf2QX9omYoKzDSIGUDGwwVy72p3tWU7B1zW57iJOY0KcvkBtrNSE2HdZMNSWzx_giMd-3u3rsBO6Dw7KQ4nJ/s320/phebes+camera+20120605+107.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Pour into 2 cup containers.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Let them set for 24 hours before placing them in the freezer. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">4 quarts of fresh berries will actually make 8 containers. I made 24 containers tonight and plan to make 24 tomorrow. I'm hoping this will last us a couple of years.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-84401326001824062312012-06-05T14:05:00.000-04:002012-06-05T14:05:48.125-04:00Love<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know when it started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I feel as if it has been my whole life, or at least as long
as I can remember. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I don’t feel lovable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Does that make sense? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">What I mean is I don’t feel like anyone could ever love
me. I’m not sure why I have felt this
way. I often wonder if it’s because my birthmother
gave me up for adoption. How was I not
good enough for her as an infant to not be loved? My mom (adopted mom) always said that my
biological mom loved me most to be able to let another family raise me. I’ve
never believed that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">As a child the only time I felt loved is when I did
something right and my family praised me.
I really shouldn't say “as a child” because I’ve felt that way even as
an adult. I’ve written before about not really believing God could love me. I’ve
just never felt worthy of His love, but 2 ½ years ago I finally accepted that
God did love me. I realized there was nothing I could do to make Him love me
less and nothing I could do to make Him love me more. What an amazing day that was. I finally realized that being His child made
Him love me unconditionally. That was it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This has not carried over into my everyday life
however. I still didn’t believe that
people loved me. This included my family
and friends….yes, even my husband. It’s
not as if he never told me…I just didn’t believe him. I’ve been married before
and have heard “I love you” many times.
If it was true I believe I would have never been divorced…twice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Jesse, however, is a whole new story. I have NEVER met
ANYONE who is as patient as he. I will be the first to admit that I have NO
patience. It’s really quite ridiculous. He has helped me greatly in this area! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">When Jesse and I first started telling each other that we
loved the other I thought he was lying. I have told him many times how I feel.
He just continued to proclaim his love.
Others have done the same thing, but Jesse didn’t stop with words. <i> </i> I have said hundreds of times that actions
speak louder than words. He has proven this to be true. I hate to admit this
but during the first year of knowing each other I did everything I could think
of to get him to leave me. I didn't have any desire in the world to get married
again and have him leave me. I ignored him, belittled him, made fun of him, and
even told him to leave. He never said a word. He just continued to love. When
our son died I honestly thought that when I came home from the hospital Jesse
would be gone. I felt like Uriah was really the only reason Jesse stayed with
me. So when he died I thought Jesse would be in the wind. Instead he continued
to love me. When my daughter started having numerous medical issues and the
medical bills grew to new heights I asked him when he was going to leave. Who
in their right mind would stay around through something like this? He just
shook his head at me and loved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">He’s done so many things for me…too many to list. I find it amazing that a couple of months ago
was when I finally realized he loved me. You’ll laugh when I tell you when I knew.
Jesse had been working two jobs and was rarely home. I was pregnant again and
quite sick and, to be honest, very depressed. It was a Saturday and he was
working around the house…doing things I would have normally done in the past.
By the end of the day he was exhausted. I was upstairs getting the baby ready
for bed and he came in to kiss me good-bye. I asked him where he was going and
he said he was taking the van into town to vacuum it out. Jesse HATES vacuuming
the van. The last time I got him to do it was just before bringing Asher home
from the hospital. He knew I couldn't do it and he knew I wanted it done. Jesse
is a typical man and never seems to notice when the vehicle needs to be
vacuumed. I used to do it every Saturday…silly
me. Anyway, I turned to Asher and said, “Asher, your daddy really loves me and
I hope you grow up to be just like him.” Jesse just smiled and headed to town.
I sat there and cried my eyes out. Why? Because it was the first time in my
life I felt unconditional love from another human. I’m 41 years old and had
never felt that before. I truly believe there is nothing I can do to make him
love me more or love me less. What an amazing feeling!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Why am I writing this? Because I want the world to know what
a wonderful man I have. I want my husband to know I finally realize he is
telling the truth. I want any man or woman out there that wonders if anyone
could love them to know that the answer is YES! I want to thank my Lord and
Savior for bringing Jesse into my life. I want people to possibly learn to love
unconditionally. I want to tell my husband,</span> <b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">“Honey, I love you with
all of my heart and I am so proud to call you mine!”</span></span></b></span><o:p></o:p></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-50784212648417672962012-04-30T22:00:00.000-04:002012-04-30T22:07:21.806-04:00<span style="font-size: x-large;">April 2012</span><br />
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<a href="http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UQsmYyiIblENSlbsejbrVWntBNp2kSmx_T7VhoMvT1pka4DNqUyq2QLmclwoXLq3evdqEW6lu5CcAPiDor8SAe_vbsbqtLkkELLlfvv1RTXvn1079vPmXikEjGv3dz84FNjHu8dbU2GU/s1600/simple-woman-daybook-small.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>Outside my window…</b>is still and dark. I love the night-time. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am thinking…</b>that I should have never agreed to get a dog. </span><br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am thankful...</b>for my wonderful husband. </span><br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>From the kitchen..</b>.was homemade goulash.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am wearing...</b>maternity clothes…again. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am remembering...</b>what it felt like to be thin. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am going...</b>no place for the rest of the week. This makes me very happy! </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am praying…</b>for a healthy pregnancy and our new baby girl. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>On my mind…</b>is how many things I NEED to do. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I am hearing...</b>Asher jabber himself to sleep, Jesse on his computer checking work and eating his dinner, Phebe doing dishes, and Abner singing one of his crazy songs. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>Around the house...</b>is a lot of dog hair. That dog sheds more than any other. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>Noticing that…</b>.being a mom again at an “older” age is far better than a “younger” age.</span><br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>Pondering these words…</b>”WOW”…It’s one of Asher’s new favorites.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>One of my favorite things...</b>is making others laugh. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>A picture thought…</b>I miss all of Asher’s curls.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJ5cn3o2HqaD6gJuqXvlxCEHyj-9eCEJ67MlDdg0yzgBFWciC-RQXRw-J7TSDLXQRLQAvZt3sG8aE24dGHHSlPsLf2SBDOP5fsBdvB2SjjH8EIvFNKQUMOsFLSxQ77S8M4UDAR3HCEG9-/s1600/264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJ5cn3o2HqaD6gJuqXvlxCEHyj-9eCEJ67MlDdg0yzgBFWciC-RQXRw-J7TSDLXQRLQAvZt3sG8aE24dGHHSlPsLf2SBDOP5fsBdvB2SjjH8EIvFNKQUMOsFLSxQ77S8M4UDAR3HCEG9-/s320/264.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-84204765895820647632012-01-16T21:56:00.021-05:002012-01-17T01:30:38.112-05:00Asher's Milk<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Have you ever had anyone do something for you that you could never repay the favor? I have been in that predicament for the last year. I am so thankful that I can’t even express my gratitude.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">My last baby, Asher, was </span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">born the end of October of 2010. One thing that I had looked forward to the most was breastfeeding my son. </span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilD_kiN-nPMDTGCTThmbEcqDESIg3_BlpGlM1xaMf75WNe0o-trKtFT3fd7PmlxjW8DgP84SghGU0WGppx7aF6JYW7f_csmfSLnxNOxj3QTBCDirxO7-uGbSnrT2QKxLDq5L6TpCpkrQw0/s1600/Fall+2010+105.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 335px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 477px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698430292208088114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilD_kiN-nPMDTGCTThmbEcqDESIg3_BlpGlM1xaMf75WNe0o-trKtFT3fd7PmlxjW8DgP84SghGU0WGppx7aF6JYW7f_csmfSLnxNOxj3QTBCDirxO7-uGbSnrT2QKxLDq5L6TpCpkrQw0/s320/Fall+2010+105.JPG" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>My first time feeding Asher Oliver in the NICU.</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Uriah, his brother, died 10 months before that. One of the most difficult aspects of his death was that I was never able to feed him. I had pumped colostrum for him, but he was never able to use it. Not only did I go through the grief of losing my son, but then I had to suffer the physical pain of “drying up.” I remember at his funeral that I was in so much pain from this I couldn’t think. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Anyway, I was truly looking forward to feeding my next baby. He was a preemie so I was not able to breastfeed him until he was a week old. I had been pumping up to that point but, as I found out later, not often enough. I should have been pumping every couple of hours. Instead, if someone came to visit I didn’t want to be rude and leave for ½ hour. So I would wait for them to leave, and then the nurses would tell me that the doctors would soon be making their rounds and I wouldn’t want to miss that so I would put it off. I had no clue this would affect my supply. After being in the hospital a week we headed home. He was nursing very well. I was so excited.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">After being home a couple of days I could tell he wasn’t getting enough. He wanted to nurse all the time. He wouldn’t even wait 15 minutes between feeds. If I tried to express my milk there was none. I had nursed my first son 11 years prior. He had also ALWAYS been hungry so I supplemented with formula. I also worked full time back then with quite a bit of overtime. I was too nervous to take my pump to work (State Prison) so I would just wait until I got home to try to pump. Every time I tried to pump I couldn’t get a drop. Even after working 16 hours straight I would get nothing. He still loved to nurse, but I honestly don’t believe he ever got much of mommy’s milk. When he was 4 months old I gave up. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">So here I was 11 years later with a bit more knowledge of the importance of nursing. Asher LOVED to eat, but was eating practically around the clock. At 2 weeks of age he went in for his first doctor’s visit. He had not gained an ounce. I knew then that we had a problem. My hubby and I had done quite a bit of reading on how bad formula can be for a baby. I felt absolutely awful. Why couldn’t I feed my baby? I read all of the books, websites, and talked to multiple lactation consultants. No matter what I did I couldn’t build my supply. I even tried a prescription…to no avail. </span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698431253176344418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6U2SXOU3-oGr76J11i6A26pCn76NAlA5JhELjRsfiwKa26W493SAJ3LVssT7zD8dh-1kBYrLleecqWH_1pVrojrsSbaU2e4Fgik9utTTePeVqHTdqfBbSGnILUyDuLI0N__RMpBiv5Rue/s320/Fall+2010+178.JPG" /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">When we left the NICU he weighed 5#. A week later he still weighed 5#. </span></strong></span></p><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I had heard some staff members at the hospital talking about donated milk. I can only imagine the look on my face when I overheard this. Seriously? People actually use other moms’ milk? The thought of this totally grossed me out. After getting home from the doctor’s office that day I decided to do a bit more research on this. There was a local milk bank, but they charged $9 an ounce. Eek! I found a lady on Facebook from Canada, Emma Kwasnica, who had started a type of “Meals on Wheels” for babies. It was actually called “Eats on Feets” at the time. There was so much wonderful information on this site and I seriously started considering it. My hubby and I ended up calling Emma in Canada…a rather expensive phone call, by the way. She was crazy helpful. She not only explained the benefits of the milk, but the benefits of continuing to breastfeed. So Jesse went out and bought us a supplemental nursing system (SNS). The SNS ended up bringing me to tears so many times that I gave up after a few weeks. It was so funny…there is a breastfeeding center at our local hospital. I called them in tears over the SNS once and they had me come in. Of course, for that feeding Asher latched on EVERY single time without a single solitary problem. I went home all excited. Started the next feeding and he refused….yet again. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I immediately hooked up with two wonderful milk mommies. I sit here crying at my computer just thinking about what they sacrificed to feed my son. We have had over 15 milk mommies who donated. Some moms lived so close we were able to use the milk before it was frozen. Some moms I couldn’t get a ton of info on so we would pasteurize their milk. I remember getting up in the night to pasteurize milk. Yes, I would much rather just have rolled over and nursed my son, but sometimes we don’t always get what we want. Instead I would nurse him </span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">for a total of 40 minutes and then pasteurize and then feed him his bottle. This was every 2 hours around the clock for many, many weeks.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBFSdxqb6mbGTWFeCbpC3Xrm8sXyUE7WbOXmVaa1LxY4iHGHJZkCV2UzRvIBujHpNZUgVn0pZOCpLsBHRZdLiMKURrff-G2X_7pfVKqX-qt6OihNEieap8czK4HQGnKODQa8wZsnzGGy_/s1600/041.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698432477270767618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBFSdxqb6mbGTWFeCbpC3Xrm8sXyUE7WbOXmVaa1LxY4iHGHJZkCV2UzRvIBujHpNZUgVn0pZOCpLsBHRZdLiMKURrff-G2X_7pfVKqX-qt6OihNEieap8czK4HQGnKODQa8wZsnzGGy_/s320/041.JPG" /></span></a></p></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>He burped like a pro. His brother was so proud!</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUC7oKPQLY9jCPxB0qyoayznnTz6wHS8OIxRev-o4XsyWR-LXHGEIrWI6_AbqCHIvKdDhfO-2IWslJXwZDI_KiL4YavyblZDd48luGG-m2KzpBRcwlc_BP-fjT5cYZi9cD_pclnql_GBlo/s1600/074.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698441596557002914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUC7oKPQLY9jCPxB0qyoayznnTz6wHS8OIxRev-o4XsyWR-LXHGEIrWI6_AbqCHIvKdDhfO-2IWslJXwZDI_KiL4YavyblZDd48luGG-m2KzpBRcwlc_BP-fjT5cYZi9cD_pclnql_GBlo/s320/074.JPG" /></span></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>At his following appointments he was always in the 50th percentile for weight.</strong></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">My son was able to use, almost exclusively, breast milk for the first 14 months of life. To me that is an absolute miracle. He has tons of antibodies he would have never gotten. He has tasted a variety of foods. By the way the old wives tale of babies not being able to tolerate certain foods was totally proven false to me through this experience. He never once had a single tummy ache from someone’s milk. He’s been protected from illnesses, infections, allergies, obesity, and so much more. We have traveled all over Michigan, and even Indiana to get milk. We even received milk from a lady from California, when she visited family in Michigan.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Here I am all these months later not having a clue how to thank these moms. Not only did they sit and feed their own babies, but they also sat and pumped for mine. Can you even imagine the amount of time this took? Every single one of these ladies was a stranger, except for one. They didn’t know me or my baby from Adam. Yet, they were willing to bring nourishment and love to my son. Isn’t that amazing?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I’m praying with all my heart that I will be able to feed my own baby next time, but if not I’ll know what to do. Thank you milk mommies for your sacrifice, your empathy, and mostly for loving my son!</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDq_anLRuiy1qKSdVywj_5enl3_9xr4gm-8hxacXK6qOa0hjswPgq3Tfs982za3O8FjSjytCEZTIJUABnmxPVN-4CrsFxvjPKPYy6o_5IiYWYd4hBQisnYuDgbkVA4pv0fg6e77BMDs3T2/s1600/007.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698452366644282658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDq_anLRuiy1qKSdVywj_5enl3_9xr4gm-8hxacXK6qOa0hjswPgq3Tfs982za3O8FjSjytCEZTIJUABnmxPVN-4CrsFxvjPKPYy6o_5IiYWYd4hBQisnYuDgbkVA4pv0fg6e77BMDs3T2/s320/007.JPG" /></span></a></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>A couple of my awesome milk moms.</strong></span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj87EPu40oDq9r1n5pDDtxZ0B5HIzShNZTPTdsAqHCcpqySVGJ1F58g2hnu49IUups2XzpxJrS9fWZhink3MN9HunS22I8CitHiYCA2sORbNiCvbmV6ys0uIIV1ceR85_gpGY5aCha5f7_1/s1600/009.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698453027351441458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj87EPu40oDq9r1n5pDDtxZ0B5HIzShNZTPTdsAqHCcpqySVGJ1F58g2hnu49IUups2XzpxJrS9fWZhink3MN9HunS22I8CitHiYCA2sORbNiCvbmV6ys0uIIV1ceR85_gpGY5aCha5f7_1/s320/009.JPG" /></span></a></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 960px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 640px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/303189_288267924528894_151563204866034_1081877_587871218_n.jpg" /></p>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-83000151119885119232012-01-05T20:16:00.003-05:002012-01-05T20:26:30.141-05:00Uriah...year 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSboVu5jpyRC11qF6uX_c_-rPyT-Y-sM1epr_HCfqz9qzIkphxbRJNYzjFjlMrcVV3zavm7G7Zm3s1xVfPa1ZKkTtqBi4rWFj7fITHqguZlEEp47J4qq64cuFI6xhIRlLMV5H6321m-X8/s1600/Uriah+and+mommy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694323525088952706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSboVu5jpyRC11qF6uX_c_-rPyT-Y-sM1epr_HCfqz9qzIkphxbRJNYzjFjlMrcVV3zavm7G7Zm3s1xVfPa1ZKkTtqBi4rWFj7fITHqguZlEEp47J4qq64cuFI6xhIRlLMV5H6321m-X8/s320/Uriah+and+mommy.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I can’t believe two years have passed since you’ve been in my arms.
<br />It seems like only yesterday we turned off those alarms.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />You felt so warm and heavy as you nestled in real near.
<br />I knew the end was coming fast; my heart was full of fear.
<br />I’d thought so often, for 40 weeks, about what you’d be like.
<br />I figured you’d look like your dad, and act like mom for spite.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />You did look like your daddy how you act we still don’t know,
<br />but I suspect you’re full of spunk and put on quite the show.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />We miss you more than words can say, and wish that you were here.
<br />It seems there’s something missing and that something’s you my Dear.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />I try to think about what you’d be like on earth.
<br />Walking, talking, running too, and filling us with mirth.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />Your sister’s an adult now and a beautiful young woman.
<br />Your brother Abner’s growing tall and always full of fun.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />Your little brother, Asher, has been a healing balm.
<br />The Lord knew what we needed to feel a peaceful calm.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />I wish with all my heart I could hold you on my knee,
<br />and make you giggle, sing you songs, and fill your heart with glee. </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">
<br />I know you’re happy where you are and I won’t take that from you.
<br />It’s just I miss you baby boy, and wish I were there too.
<br />
<br />The time will come someday I know and we will be together.
<br />The giggles, songs, and silliness will then last for forever.
<br />
<br />I love you Uriah my little boy you’ll always be.
<br />You’ll never know the peace and love that you have given me. </span>
<br /></span>
<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-79672864430510395912012-01-03T23:06:00.003-05:002012-01-03T23:26:15.268-05:00Remembering Uriah<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Throughout the day today I have thought back to what was happening at that particular time 2 years ago. Waking up feeling little Uriah have strange hiccups. I remember the contractions starting, the epidural, giving birth, and the silence when Uriah was delivered. Oh how I hate remembering the silence. It’s not that I needed someone to say anything, or that I needed to talk. I needed to hear my baby cry. It never happened though.</span><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><br /><div>I remember going into shock and my body shaking uncontrollably for 2 hours straight. I remember being wheeled into the NICU to see my son. I remember the sounds of the monitors, the hush of the staff working with him, how he smelled, and how he needed to be cleaned up. I asked the nurse if I could clean him. She told me it would be too much stimulation. She said I could touch him, but not to rub or pat him…again, too much stimuli. He felt so cold. I remember pulling my hand away. The nurse explained that they were lowering his body temperature in hopes of bringing back some brain activity. I remember the silence of the nurse when I asked if I should pump milk for him. Her silence told me the truth of what was really happening. I remember being scared, I remember wanting to run. I wanted to run far, far away. I didn’t want to be in that room with that cold baby. I asked to be taken to my room. </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 565px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 604px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/17869_260692435438_657415438_4369168_6971311_n.jpg" /><br />My room…not what I had envisioned. As they wheeled me into the room I saw what looked like a postcard on my door. The picture was of a green leaf with a teardrop in the middle. I didn’t know what it meant. I learned later it meant that I had a baby that had either died or was going to die. I remember the silence of my room. I could hear people talking and sniffling in other rooms, but no babies. I couldn’t hear the squeaky cries of a newborn. I remember the sadness. At that time I decided I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t bear to see my baby that way. I wanted to remember him as I had dreamt about him, not as he was. Not with tubes and wires and needles. Not with dried gunk all over his body. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong. Why was this happening? This was not what I was supposed to be feeling.</span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">My friend came to encourage me. She unfortunately <a href="http://inmemoryangelahope.blogspot.com/">understood</a> how I was feeling. She knew what I NEEDED to do. She hauled my rear-end back to that NICU. I will never be able to thank her enough. She told me I needed to make memories…she was right. By the time I went to bed that night I was one hopeful mommy. I had pumped milk for my baby. I had prayed for my baby. I knew my God was the Great Physician. I KNEW he could heal Uriah. I went to bed with hope in my heart. </span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><br /><br /><div>When I pray I try to always say, “Lord I only want this if this is what You want.” It’s a very difficult thing to say and mean. That day 2 years ago was the most difficult it had ever been. </div><br /><br /><div>Have you ever looked through a keyhole in an old house? Imagine for a minute peering through that hole. Can you see that huge king size bed with silk sheets and draperies hanging from the four huge bedposts? What about that ginormous garden tub in the corner surrounded by plants and candles? The little reading nook in the back is so unique. There are pillows everywhere and books lining the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The sunshine streaming through the windows makes you wonder if you want to take a nap in its warmth or read a book by its light. Isn’t it beautiful? I could spend a month in there without ever wanting to leave…especially if my favorite foods were delivered. ;o) The problem lies in our view. It’s only through that stinkin’ keyhole.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>God looks from above and can see the bedbugs lying in wait for a warm body. He sees the mold under the paint that will cause our lungs to burn. He hears the rats as they run through the walls. He knows this is not the room for us. He loves us too much to give us a room like that. So he steers us away. Some of us cling to that doorknob as if our life depends on it. Some of us look back longingly. Some of us follow reluctantly. Some of us run to follow Him. I will admit right now. I didn’t run to follow Him, but I knew whatever He decided was what was best for me. Why? Because He loves me completely. I don’t know what Uriah’s future on earth may have been. What if it was full of pain? I would much rather he was safely in heaven with my Savior waiting for me, than to have him suffer at all on this earth. Why? Because I love him completely. The best thing in all of this is I get to spend eternity with him. Not only that, but I now have another little boy that would have NEVER been had Uriah lived. Oh, Asher is such a joy! Yes, he is a typical 1 year old that makes me want to pull my hair out at times, but he is exactly what I needed. He is exactly what my Father wanted me to have. He is my hope.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 533px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 553px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/308493_10150481071033662_692538661_11171243_15717333_n.jpg" /></div></span></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-41094538905081769922011-11-20T23:35:00.002-05:002011-11-21T00:00:46.230-05:00Sorry I needed to vent!!!!!<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I have to vent. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><br />I’m tired.<br /><br />I’m tired of not getting answers.<br /><br />I’m tired of people not caring.<br /><br />I’m tired of my poor daughter being in pain.<br /><br />I’m tired of the medical field not doing anything to change this.<br /><br />What do I need to do?<br /><br />With whom do I need to talk?<br /><br />I will not give up.<br /><br />I will find a way to help her get better.<br /><br />Tonight my friend and neighbor stopped by to give me a gift. I also babysit for her two days a week. She is a nurse at the hospital Phebe was in this last week. She worked Thursday and would stop by Phebe’s room to check on her, and then would text me to let me know how Phebe was doing. Adrienne is an absolute angel. She knew I couldn’t get up to see Phebe so she wanted to keep me informed. After she left this evening Phebe said, “I know dat voice. She da nice lady.”<br /><br />I said, “Yes, Adrienne IS very nice. We love her.”<br /><br />Phebe replied, “She da only one who nice to me when you not there in hopital.”<br /><br />My daughter has the mind of a 2 year old. Yes, she is in the body of an 18 year old, but that doesn’t change the fact that her mind isn’t. Can someone please explain to me why you wouldn’t treat her kindly? Three of the four days she was there she couldn’t even lift her head. It wasn’t until the last day that she was able to sit up and start talking again. So why not just treat her kindly? She wasn’t hurting anyone. She wasn’t being abusive. She wasn’t swearing or throwing things. She just had a hard time moving and couldn’t talk clearly.<br /><br />She has been in pain for months. Her blood clots very strangely. Her tongue looks like white fur. She is now getting blisters all over her body for the second time. These blisters are huge and VERY painful. She can only swallow liquids and struggles with that. Sometimes when her skin gets wet it falls off. If she has a cut on her body it won’t heal or it takes months to heal. The doctors tell me there’s nothing wrong with her. It’s all in her head. The last time she was covered with blisters the doctor told me she was burning herself. Really???<br /><br />I want to go to one of these doctors’ homes with my daughter and drop her off. I’ll pin a note to her saying to please return her when she is whole. I have been trying for 8 months to fix her and I am failing big time.<br /><br />It isn’t fair.<br /><br />It isn’t right.<br /><br />The saddest part in all of this is that I adopted her from Haiti in hopes of making her life better. I feel like she would have been better off never coming to America.<br /><br />I feel like I have failed her.<br /><br />I feel like an awful mom.<br /><br />This all needs to change and now!<br /><br />Someone please help me help my daughter.<br /></span>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-7314430426880771442011-11-05T16:07:00.003-04:002011-11-05T16:26:43.733-04:00Book review for Heaven is for Real for Kids<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeUz2HLwrmYDBEqI3woLGYVIWX5zv-SaksGx2y4mOCEIOmRLmByGLeCaeg5vLbycoSOBqMR4rOJd9r38klVAJoOP4FZ3frlQguINLhQZ9AZ9nl3A4ZKBq9-Dy3ywrxd_jrQtOv5XmhHvO/s1600/better+heaven.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 201px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671607136786026050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeUz2HLwrmYDBEqI3woLGYVIWX5zv-SaksGx2y4mOCEIOmRLmByGLeCaeg5vLbycoSOBqMR4rOJd9r38klVAJoOP4FZ3frlQguINLhQZ9AZ9nl3A4ZKBq9-Dy3ywrxd_jrQtOv5XmhHvO/s320/better+heaven.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I was recently given the opportunity to review <em>Heaven is for Real for Kids. </em>This is a very good book. I had already read the adult version and couldn’t wait to get my hands on this one. This book is written as if little Colton is telling the story. He is very clear and excited about what he remembers from his visit to heaven.<br /><br /></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I wanted this book for my daughter. She is 18 years old but has regressed back to a small child. Heaven and God really fascinate her right now so when I showed her this book she was thrilled. I read it to her and all throughout the book she would point things out or ask a question. She learned many new things from this book. At the end of the book there is a FAQ section that answered a lot of her questions. I personally loved the art work in the book, but she didn’t care for it. She said she would rather see things drawn more clearly.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I also loved the book…probably just as much as my daughter. As a mother I think it is very important to show our children how wonderful heaven will be. So many times my children have said that heaven sounds boring and they aren’t sure they will enjoy it once they get there. After reading this book I highly doubt that will be the case!</span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 51, 102); " ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 245); ">I received a copy of “Heaven is for Real for Kids” from Booksneeze.com</span></span></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-25824743467998703192011-10-18T23:44:00.004-04:002011-10-19T00:57:44.383-04:00One Proud Momma!!<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Today I will write about something that many people will attempt to judge. I really truly couldn’t care less. Judge away my friends…oh wait…If you’re judging you are no friend of mine!<br /><br />I am sooooooooooooooo proud of my son Abner. I MUST tell as many people as possible. He has always had a special place in my heart. I had decided to abort him when I found out I was pregnant with him, but at the last minute changed my mind. He is the first person I have ever met that is a blood relative of mine. He is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, he causes me to sigh and holler many times throughout the day. He also has made me laugh every day since he has been born. He is only 12 years old, but he has saved the lives of 3 different people as of today. So often I hear people ask what their purpose in life might be. This is a question Abner will never need to ask himself!<br /><br />So this is where you will really have an opportunity to judge…ready?<br /><br />When Abner was a baby I went through a very deep depression. I was so depressed I couldn’t think of a single solitary reason in the world to live any longer. I planned how I would end my life many times. When he was barely 2 I had decided that day was the last day I would be on this earth. I put him and his 8 year old sister to bed. I waited until about 3 o’clock in the morning and I went to the kitchen and found one of my favorite bowls. I then went and got every pill in the house. I poured those pills quietly into the bowl. Then I went and filled a glass full of ice water. I walked down the hall and checked to make sure both kids were still sound asleep. ..they were. I then went to the kitchen and told myself this was the best thing for everyone. I took a handful of pills and grabbed the water. I then heard a sound behind me. It was Abner. He said, “Momma what doing?”<br /><br />I said, “Nothing Honey…why are you up? You are supposed to be sleeping. Come on, let momma tuck you back into your bed.”<br /><br />He said, “Momma, I not gonna sleep in my bed…I sleep in momma’s bed.”<br /><br /><br />“Abner Joseph, you WILL sleep in your bed. Now get moving!”<br /><br />“NO!”<br /><br />Now let me explain a little something here. I have NEVER allowed my children to tell me “no.” He knew this was cause for a spanking. “Abner, Mommy is not kidding…GO!”<br /><br /><br />“NO!”<br /><br />So I caved. I crawled into my bed with my little boy and fell asleep. My plan was to wait until he was asleep and go and finish what I had started. I never woke up until my daughter woke me up so she could go to school the following morning. I must now admit that I was very angry with Abner, but soon was very grateful! That little boy saved my life. He has never one time since that night told me “no” again. :o)<br /><br />When Abner was 5 we went as a family to some friend’s house to go swimming and have a cookout. Abner quickly went down to the pool. There were a few other families there, and one that had a little boy about 8 years old. The two boys were all alone. The 8 year old was in the pool and Abner was walking around the pool. I looked down to check on Abner and noticed the other boy was drowning. I screamed, “He’s drowning!” Two of the men started running down the steps of the deck to get to the pool. Abner turned and walked to grab the pool skimmer. He went down the steps on the deep end of the pool and held the skimmer out to the boy and pulled him to the edge of the pool. He had saved the boy before the adults had even reached the pool. He was so calm and acted as if he had taken some sort of lifeguard training in preschool. I was so proud of him!<br /><br />Today he did it again. My daughter Phebe has had some odd and very strange problems this year. As of late, she sometimes doesn’t know who she is or who any of us are. Today was one of those days. She woke from a nap not having a clue who any of us were. She somehow got outside even though we generally lock the house down. I did everything I could think of to get her in the house. I finally called for Abner and had him go hide behind a tree so that if she darted towards the busy road he could grab her. Praise the Lord I thought of this. It wasn’t 10 minutes later and she was running. I screamed for Abner to tackle her. She was running as fast as she could into the road completely unaware there was a car going at least 55 miles per hour less than a quarter block from her. He got her down only to have her get free and start running again. I looked and there was another car coming from the other direction going even faster. I knew she was going to die. I screamed, “ABNER YOU HAVE TO TACKLE HER!” I was running but felt as if I was running in slow motion. He tried to grab her shirt and missed. I heard him let out this sound of fear and defeat. He also knew his sister was going to die in about 4 seconds. I screamed “ABNER PLEASE!” it was as if his speed almost doubled and he was suddenly on top of her. I soon was on top of both of them. It took us another hour to convince her to go in the house, but Abner had done it yet again.<br /><br />I will never ever ever be able to tell Abner how much I love him, nor how proud I am of him. I had planned on having an abortion when I found out I was pregnant with him. Can you imagine?<br /><br />Thank you Lord for your hand of protection and for giving me a son that I needed more than I even realized!</span><br /><br /><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665048265933089746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOtNuNspcGreuKXoFZs2Y2Snwa48Y-74hb0stCUJcu5s7mZijh1i-V9szxBEoiQSx4g4GyV2anF0wWXTNG8zXlkb1tk9sj2qaZKyPsuYf5aLFIvYKYlsmlnYsg1CWcr_K6N9y4QFAsl6d/s320/100_0008.JPG" /><br /><br /><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665049193248079874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimIrvchRMv5HxAwq0rHLOWf21IGLWEu1l5XtsjP0HzIbkii8F44DKH4kD9qiHVX_rbcL6aTdj_Pxas3pr-m1cJI195qiWSdNmPFMXwfU4TtyAGviWexu26BSUfncLPXaEdd_9U1Gr_UejB/s320/100_0072.JPG" />Yes he is walking on the ceiling.<br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Being a goof...as usual!</span></span></div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665051454061401250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZLdw7D60ylRaCgzhbMjmX20rlgXdNoQdGP5Umi-rDZoRdgcfzE6PQ3jst6S6QxbOO9AO2JIdSj4INU9vuWStDfqzNALV542t3XnWyIklZLLrZf5AlI78SAMYn50LqZbYMLGPoIuXKRYj/s320/100_0030.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="center">Yes he got in trouble for this!</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6043848334528866232.post-9221979875242981532011-10-10T23:10:00.005-04:002011-10-10T23:18:22.607-04:00Simple Woman's Daybook 10-10-11<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 141px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662068074022555762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2fJGRg823XTT6xSQK24dH-6k-xg-lto0cRv8o2hXOvuWJ8L5shku3reKrtlxNFev5QyoiJE5gUXMPLODfOpF4xDFUwcl1gIbK3GvjXTipLACmUo6o5GLXiSxgAOnUW7k3Mn-ZqULqz-7/s320/simple-woman-daybook-small.jpg" /><strong>Outside my window…</strong>is a beautiful quiet darkness.<br /><br /><strong>I am thinking…</strong>that heaven seems sweeter and sweeter each day. </span><br /><div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>I am thankful...</strong>for the Indian summer we’ve been enjoying.<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>From the kitchen...</strong>was homemade split pea soup and yeast rolls.</span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>I am wearing...</strong>a heavy heart.<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>I am remembering...</strong>what my dad’s voice sounded like. </span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>I am going...</strong>to visit my dad in the hospital tomorrow. He just suffered a stroke.<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>I am praying…</strong>my younger siblings as they hold down the fort. </span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>On my mind…</strong>is how I wish I would have called my dad Saturday.</span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>I am hearing...</strong>the whirl of the fan in the window.<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>Around the house...</strong>are lots of pieces of Cheerios.<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>Noticing that….</strong>I love my life!<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>Pondering these words…</strong>"I love you more”<br /></span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>One of my favorite things...</strong>the beautiful colors God gives us in the fall.</span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>A picture thought…</strong>I received this card in the mail from my dad 2 days before his stroke. It’s probably the last thing he wrote me in his old handwriting. </span></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662067588819988402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6ZnDE7nxTRGbLV_yb9j2871P8URFn3MlKWppy_31rHmrrmZs6wV4LnYdprf26SYxIQfn_nNBlXlhSnk04Zi7_vYeDtRs8LCH5DGxhwB3jmcnxZYYx8vzWtZtkmm_vT8vAo4fj7HlKqXq/s320/011.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><br /><div></div></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10689159388778616060noreply@blogger.com1