tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84302451821380602522024-03-14T07:27:43.951-07:00Chocolate Covered DaydreamsMy life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you might find.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.comBlogger589125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-79862205419216677652018-06-18T22:21:00.001-07:002018-06-18T22:21:54.059-07:00Hair Combing Stool <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheeIn_78oXsPaNdM8QRpGiCuxQL7t93VF7LNgS2BOJAtdKuEHCRmqacOfNdGnalqUvgUJ3FeoqCPV27rJrJdyP7z_mypxql-mlpHIMmgDYjr4DbMJkF1J5IUrBzcflJ8GloyoEa7IdAOEQ/s1600/haircombing+stool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheeIn_78oXsPaNdM8QRpGiCuxQL7t93VF7LNgS2BOJAtdKuEHCRmqacOfNdGnalqUvgUJ3FeoqCPV27rJrJdyP7z_mypxql-mlpHIMmgDYjr4DbMJkF1J5IUrBzcflJ8GloyoEa7IdAOEQ/s320/haircombing+stool.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s a quote that says, “If you carry
your childhood with you, you never become older.” – Tom Stoppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In my space sits not a shrine but a place
where memories come alive, imagination flows and courage is embraced once
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My space has cherished teddy bears, a game
of Pick Up Stix, a Spirograph, a Viewmaster and candy – sweet reminders of my
childhood. In the corner of my space is a cherished piece of furniture – one that
I have thought of and looked for throughout the years. It is called a step stool
but my mom called it the hair combing stool and to me that is exactly what it
is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The hair combing stool is where magic was
made. My mom called for me to bring the hair bucket (the bucket with barrettes,
ribbons, rubber bands, a comb and a hair brush) along with the hair grease and
other magical hair ointments. I’d return with the red bucket in my hands, ready
to sit down for the hair magic to begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was during this time of hair combing
magic that my mom often talked while I listened. It was also time that she listened
while I talked. She brushed and combed through my hair, knowing just how tight
to braid it. The part in my hair was essential to the hair still. It determined
whether there were two braid, three or more. A crooked part meant that I hadn’t
sat still enough so tht she could get the part straight. I held a hand mirror
watching and taking in her artistic fingers creating a hair masterpiece.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I didn’t have a hair combing stool when my
daughters were little. In fact, I looked but never found one. So, they got the
next go to - the floor where magic still took place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I look at the stool now, my eyes
glisten with tears. I want so much to work the magic of the hair combing stool
on a little’s girl’s hair so that she can feel beautiful when I say, “All done.”
I want to gently brush the curls around my fingers. I want to do beautiful
braids that will not only last throughout the day but in a memory in that
little girl’s mind of that time where I talked and she listened and she talked
and I listened. A place where she smiled in the mirror as I transformed her
into feeling like a princess. #blackgirlsareprincessestoo #blackgirlmagic #cherishedmemories #alwaysremember<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-90982634381690663942015-06-09T21:50:00.001-07:002015-06-09T21:50:18.708-07:00When Mommy Claws Come Out<br />
Last week, Pastor J and I opened our hearts to emergency foster care for two kiddos, 4 and 2 years old. This was also the same day that our 17 year old was being sent b<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoUdzHb4P1zgzNHL52D99cGtyHIZJiotFiXxYfmuUhkfA0_zkxbkX6zH7K6pcajNOt55ni8uZxeU61YVyzx0mcg249osnBEMPr4G3g2Kfj16a6g3x4uLsIgdgvx-jRU6Jf5SicnE_82zM/s1600/10356158_10207159874984805_8877911740759939465_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoUdzHb4P1zgzNHL52D99cGtyHIZJiotFiXxYfmuUhkfA0_zkxbkX6zH7K6pcajNOt55ni8uZxeU61YVyzx0mcg249osnBEMPr4G3g2Kfj16a6g3x4uLsIgdgvx-jRU6Jf5SicnE_82zM/s320/10356158_10207159874984805_8877911740759939465_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
ack to military school for three more weeks until graduation....so chaos was raining down.<br />
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The kiddos came in with stories that only they can tell but suffice it to say they needed to be loved from the moment they walked through our door.<br />
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Little Princess wasn't much for conversation. She babbled to herself but cursed fluently. Little Man Short Stuff was less verbal and used hitting and kicking as a way of getting his point across. I got a left hook twice in the ear before I wisened up.<br />
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Before long, their hearts were softening and they were beginning to relax into the only thing we knew to give...love.<br />
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Flash forward,..McDonalds. Every kid recognizes the golden arches and as we drove into the parking lot, the kiddos were applauding and cheering. They quickly ate and scrambled down, wanting to go into the play place for kiddos. While Little Man Short Stuff ran back and forth, Little Princess climbed up the steps into the abyss of the play place. With her Happy Meal toy in hand, she gave her best smile to a kid across from her. She threw the toy, hitting him accidentally.<br />
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He called her a poop. I stood up, inching closer to hear what other mean kid words he was getting ready to spew. He yelled, "Run! Here she comes!" The kids began screaming and asking why they were running from Little Princess and the mean kid's reply was, "Because she talks like a Boxtroll," Little Princess didn't understand that she was the butt of the joke and kept moving closer to the kids as they ran faster and hid from her. She went towards another kid and that kid screamed and ran, I saw a look of bewilderment, mixed with fear on her face.<br />
That did it for me! The claws came out! I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I stood looking up, hands on hips, calling her to come down. I didn't want her to be humiliated any longer.<br />
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Panic set in as Little Princess stood and tried to figure out how to get out of a place where she wasn't welcomed. She reached above her and then towards the fenced in area. Pastor J ran up the stairs to the play place, waved his arms and called out to her. Little Princess saw him and went flying into his arms, crying.<br />
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I stood there, staring at the kids as they realized their game was over. The parents began calling their kids to put on their shoes because it was "time to go".<br />
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The kiddos were stared at as one of the kids looked at Little Man Short Stuff and asked, "Why does that girl have a boy Happy Meal toy?" (Little Man Short Stuff came with two ponytails and as foster kids, the state forbids their hair to be cut or altered.) The parent said, "I think that he's a boy!"<br />
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"Why is his hair like that if that's a boy?" the kid asked.<br />
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I grabbed Little Man Short Stuff's hand and didn't wait for an answer.<br />
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I couldn't shake the anger. It stayed with me even as we drove home. Later, as they fell asleep, I replayed the events in my head, disappointed by the kids, the parents, even my own lack of saying at that moment what was running through my own head.<br />
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I watched Little Princess while she slept and I couldn't help but wonder how she'd handle the mean kids the next time.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-77421438549980753922015-03-02T23:09:00.001-08:002015-03-02T23:09:42.011-08:00Disappear<div class="post-content clearfix" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro', Arial, 'segoe UI', Meiryo, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.7999992370605px;">
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Recently a friend made a courageous decision to disappear. She didn’t fall off the face of the earth – nothing that drastic. She disappeared from every aspect of social media – Instagram, Facebook, LinkedN, Google +, Twitter and even got rid of her email accounts. What’s even more amazing is that she is a gifted writer and has had a “presence” in this blogosphere of ours for quite a while. Although her disappearance was sudden, her decision wasn’t.</div>
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In her words….”Being off of social media puts things in perspective. I can focus on the here and now. The tangible right in from of me – relationships with my family, my daily priorities and in self-care. I’ve gained more hours in my day by taking myself off of social media.” I asked if she felt like she was missing out and she replied, “No. In fact, the withdrawals only lasted about 7 days.” When asked about friendships that she had made online her response was, “Friendships that I found online and where I made connection also in real life remain intact and those that were merely online, are gone.” Was that disheartening to her? She replied, “I’m practical so I expected it. <strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">Community in real life is stronger.”</strong></div>
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I’ve contemplated disappearing too. For some of the same and yet different reasons, I question whether this is what God really wants my life to look like. You may not agree with me but there is a heck of a lot of pressure in social media. The pressure of fitting in, being liked and liking others, saying and doing the right thing. Being accepted in social media can resemble the first day of high school as a freshmen in a new town. But it’s magnified a few times over when the community isn’t based on face to face interaction. <strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">What you put into the online community can often feel like a quick brush of wind on your face…one day you feel you belong and the next, you’re feeling alone even though you’re in the middle of a crowd.</strong></div>
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I started out blogging before blogging was called blogging. I had this cute little spot in a place called the Heartlands on a website called Geocities. I had an “address” and a neighborhood of people that also wrote on my online community. Now that I think about it, it was a bit hokie but I thought I was cool beans for having my “spot” in the community. I had peeps who lived next door and who shared the love of Christ, family, creating, and adventures. Then years later, the “real” blogosphere happened. I grabbed my blogspot address and I was ready to soar…soar with an audience of one. Little by little, I found friends who surprisingly liked my place chocolatecovereddaydreams.blogspot.com and community happened.</div>
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As I grew, my voice grew. I found boldness to tell it like it is and courage to be me. Then came opportunities to write and to speak outside of my little blog. And my voice grew a little louder. I decided to be bold and to take a giant leap and my domain name and website were created.</div>
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I immersed myself in social media. I tweeted and liked, shared, pinned and hearted pictures of friends and family. Then I got lost and overwhelmed. I found people who wrote great stuff and who made this social media stuff seem effortless, a breeze. There were retreats to gather and find community, book launches and online Bible studies. I gave in to having it all at my fingertips via my smartphone. <strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">Before long, my writing was distracted by the very thing I thought I loved – social media.</strong><a class="boxer" href="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Best-blogging-community.jpg" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #f56993; outline: none; overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="Best-blogging-community" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-1187" src="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Best-blogging-community-300x189.jpg" height="189" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; height: auto; line-height: 0; margin: 0.5em 15px 0.5em 0px; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: bottom;" width="300" /></a></div>
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I no longer knew where I fit. I remembered when my web address included blogspot and how those blogs that I followed and read frequently became friends to me.<strong style="box-sizing: border-box;"> Trying to keep up with every wonderful blog, I lost the closeness that came from the small community of friends.</strong> I guess the best way to describe what I’m saying is that I went from communing and the loving fellowship of a small church and suddenly going to a megachurch where it’s easy to get lost in the crowd.</div>
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I don’t want to be lost in the crowd. I don’t want to feel like I want to fight for social medial popularity either. I would rather just be me and if my voice is heard, then that’s okay. Maybe it means going back to being a blogspot blogger once again. But then I fight with what I’ve been told, “You want to write and get your book published, then you’ve got to have a presence on social media.” <strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">It’s my heart’s desire to write – just like the air I breathe but going back to writing for the audience of One. I will trust Him to open the doors.</strong><img alt="images" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-1188" src="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/images.jpg" height="160" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; height: auto; line-height: 0; margin: 0.5em 15px 0.5em 0px; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: bottom;" width="280" /></div>
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Have you thought about your place in social media? I would love to hear your thoughts.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-77815888580910246612014-09-13T10:43:00.000-07:002014-09-13T10:43:42.580-07:00The Courage to Walk Away - Brave Girl CommunityHi there!<br />
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I'm over at the<a href="http://bravegirlcommunity.com/2014/09/12/the-courage-to-walk-away/"> Brave Girl community</a>, sharing my story of walking away. Hope you'll join me there!!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-87921814933987246852014-08-22T22:05:00.003-07:002014-08-22T22:06:47.648-07:00Head Over Hills In Love<div class="section-center clearfix" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro', Arial, 'segoe UI', Meiryo, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;">
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When I was a kid, my family lived close to a park with lots of grassy hills. My sister and I would lie down at the top of the hill and roll and roll and roll! The momentum of rolling was exhilarating until I got to the bottom and I was ready to roll again. The problem was that I was and still am highly allergic to grass so the thrill was a risk unto itself – with a very itchy, uncomfortable aftermath.</div>
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For those of you that have read my blog from the beginning, you know that I have been married previously. So for me, this is a falling-in-love-again-for-good kind of story. Ours is a story – a forever-always – amen kind of love story.</div>
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I can spend countless minutes talking about the horrific emotions of infidelity and distrust in my previous marriage but it serves no purpose other than to distract from the beautiful, chaotic love that my love and best friend, Jeff and I share.</div>
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When asked what makes our marriage work, honestly the only” What” is a “Who” – God is the very core of our relationship. Without him, I can’t even imagine what our marriage and family life would be like.</div>
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We were knit together, each of us, in our mothers wombs. That’s where the similarities of our childhood begin and end. We are chocolate and vanilla, smooth and crunchy, spicy and mild. If you know me, then you can already guess which one of us is spicy.</div>
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We came together not knowing where our friendship would lead. We had the yours and mine kiddos which we knew could be one of the most difficult task of all – to bring us together and to call us a family. The true test came when we said I do. With our oldest kiddos standing by our sides, we made the no matter what commitment.</div>
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Six kids, two son in laws and three furbabies later…we’ve got chocolate and vanilla – in love.</div>
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It hasn’t been easy. Blending together families means blending different ideals, visions and goals. I won’t lie – there are times that are tough when we both think to ourselves, “Did I really expect our lives would be this way?” Yet, we focus on what we have and where we are going and we both come to the conclusion that we were meant to be.</div>
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I never imagined love could be so sweet. I have found that love doesn’t focus on color but on the friendship and courage to be “real”. Jeff has given me that and more. I don’t have to apologize for being “me”. I know without any doubts, he loves me just the way I am.</div>
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Where will this love lead? Only God knows but there’s so much exploring and excitement and challenges headed our way. I will give you a hint…with yours and mine, comes ours….There’s a new Dankenbring that will be a part of our family through adoption. We’re jumping head </div>
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into this adventure of ours called love and life. Are you?</div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro', Arial, 'segoe UI', Meiryo, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;">- See more at: http://www.simonedankenbring.com/head-over-hills-in-love/#sthash.eTS96tYn.dpuf</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-5454813316751962832014-08-19T20:16:00.002-07:002014-08-19T20:17:27.512-07:00Dare to Be...Vulnerable!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Am I the only one that seems to have no words for the unrest
happening in Ferguson? I’ve tried but the ugliness throws me back into the
doorway, looking at what’s going on in my community and inside my home instead
of being emotionally wrapped up with all that is going on in pandemic
proportions elsewhere.</span><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m not shutting my
eyes to racism because I’ve experienced it more than I really care to think
about. But what I do want to talk about is being vulnerable enough to let
others into your life and those things that you are most passionate about.
People hate what they don’t know or maybe want to know. People assume because
assuming is easier than going up to another person and talking and <b>REALLY</b> finding out who you are standing
beside, living next to or worshipping with.</span><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We guard our hearts
from evil but we also keep others from seeing deeper into who we are for fear
that we won’t be accepted. <b>Courage is
letting go of the “what ifs” and opening our arms to “why nots”.</b></span><b><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m terrible about
hiding feelings, blemishes, truths, emotions. I grew up in a family where it
was better to not “show your stuff”. Even now, Facebook and Twitter can be
obtrusive to me. I have to force myself to stop watching and reading and
instead, engage.</span><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After I had the flat line/dying thing happen,
I developed a new attitude. What I saw when I died was that I had shed my
“shell” of who I was. It was like taking off footie pjs and letting them drop
to the floor. When I came back, I decided that if that’s what death is like,
letting go of what is on the outside and embracing eternity, I no longer want
to hold back showing the “real” me. I’m not wanting to do a naked bike ride, I
just want to stop hiding behind facades of what some people think I am or I’m
not. I’m all for vulnerability – as painful and difficult as it may be.</span><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4a0tTbWxvvOfrrm7s41kUOXCpTqRiVhVyUFjln8gfcJIkFJ9qoNTrZ7HCdtfDqYYZNDZOO8dxXJ__TDlENOy3KzPFhdAfw2zLIYFMMHYF1AWom_L5fXU6CMmaWLPBWmBoJsocYf0f58W/s1600/vulnerability_sign.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4a0tTbWxvvOfrrm7s41kUOXCpTqRiVhVyUFjln8gfcJIkFJ9qoNTrZ7HCdtfDqYYZNDZOO8dxXJ__TDlENOy3KzPFhdAfw2zLIYFMMHYF1AWom_L5fXU6CMmaWLPBWmBoJsocYf0f58W/s1600/vulnerability_sign.png" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve decided to
challenge myself as well as you, to go outside of what is normal. Instead, <b>divulge, bear, seek and let go</b>. I’m
sharing my vulnerability with you. My challenge to you be courageous and share
something, anything that will be a giant leap to you being vulnerable. Be
yourself! Here’s my leap!</span><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have been battered and bruised by pastors
and members of some churches. I was made to feel like the bad person. I felt as
if I had no voice.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hate, hate, hate when I am asked, “What are
you?” I don’t mind when I’m asked, “What is your nationality?”</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have food allergies and the list of food
that I am allergic to is growing daily. I’m in denial that I can’t have nuts.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m married to a wonderful man that is white.
I dislike having to justify mostly to Black people, why I married outside of my
race.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have scars (keloids) on my face, chest and
back and the doctors are baffled by them. I have to wear some shirts backwards
to cover the largest ones up.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t mind answering questions pertaining to
my heritage and race but I don’t like having someone touch my hair out of
curiosity. (Yes, this has happened more than once.)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">7)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I was younger, I didn’t fit in with my
Black peers because they often picked on me for talking and acting “white”. I
also didn’t fit in with my White peers because most of them didn’t understand
why I was different from them. It’s taken me years to finally find my “place”
and embrace who I am, how I talk, look and believe. I’m a child of the King.
That’s more than enough.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">8)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have OCD tendencies from my first marriage
and it’s very difficult to overlook things out of place or in a messy room.
Even at work, I won’t leave for home until I’ve cleaned up my workspace.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">9)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m easily amused, curious, in awe of how
things work. To this day, I regret not becoming a doctor.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">10)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 7.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I hate when someone tells me, “You can’t.”</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Are you ready for the
challenge? Showing your stuff may mean uncovering just a big toe – that’s a
start! Go ahead and share your stuff.</span><span style="color: #222222; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-55187080187567114502014-08-06T22:04:00.001-07:002014-08-06T22:04:26.848-07:00This Thing for Books<div class="section-center clearfix" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro', Arial, 'segoe UI', Meiryo, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;">
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As far as I can remember, I had a love for books. My mom would read my sisters and I books that seemed to come alive right before our very eyes. I l<img alt="" class="alignnone alignleft" height="378" src="http://quotefave.com/wp-content/uploads/reading-quotes-2.jpg" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; float: left; height: auto; line-height: 0; margin: 0.5em 15px 0.5em 0px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom;" width="378" />oved the sound of her voice as she read but I couldn’t wait until I was big enough to read all by myself.</div>
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Summers were spent reading underneath the air conditioner or by the stereo where we would trade books with one another. The librarian knew to save books for us because they were quickly devoured and we were ready for more.</div>
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I imagined life on the Banks of Plum Creek, being Margaret in Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret or one that I often wished, The Mummy Market, a place to trade in your mom. I laughed with Ramona Quimby and became an entrepreneur with Eddie Hits Paydirt. I saw myself in each book that I read.</div>
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The love of books still remains. In fact, to de-stress, one of my favorite things to do is to go to a second hand store and browse through the books. Going to the library is similar to having that first morning cup of coffee on a Saturday…pure delight!</div>
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What’s been even more of a wonderful gift is having friends that are authors who I have cheered on from the very beginning. When <a href="http://www.kathilipp.com/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #f56993; outline: none; overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none;">Kathy Lipp</a> came out with The Husband Project, I was doing the chicken dance on the sidelines. Each and every book after that has been a hit. I definitely can’t forget <a href="http://michellederusha.com/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #f56993; outline: none; overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none;">Michelle DeRusha</a> who’s book, Spiritual Misfit has become one of my favorites of this year.</div>
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<a class="boxer" href="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/2014-08-02-16.33.33.jpg" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #f56993; outline: none; overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="2014-08-02 16.33.33" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-1150 alignright" height="300" src="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/2014-08-02-16.33.33-225x300.jpg" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; float: right; height: auto; line-height: 0; margin: 0.5em 0px 0.5em 15px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom;" width="225" /></a></div>
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Then there’s Jen Hatmaker, Debbie Macomber, Lysa Teurkeurst, Lisa Harper, Emily Freeman, Annie Downs, Karen Zacharias, Sara DeBarge, Jennifer Duke, Angela Thomas, Lisa Samson, Tsh Oxenreider, Ann Voskamp, Kimberly Cash Tate, Sheila Walsh….the list goes on and on and on.</div>
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There’s many that I’ve forgotten and much more that are already on my pre-order list.</div>
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<a class="boxer" href="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/2014-08-02-16.33.47.jpg" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #f56993; outline: none; overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="2014-08-02 16.33.47" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-1151 aligncenter" height="300" src="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/2014-08-02-16.33.47-225x300.jpg" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; height: auto; line-height: 0; margin: 1em auto; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom;" width="225" /></a>Thank you for blessing me with the gift of words to unwind, dream, become brave, admit that I’m a Spiritual Misfit, cry, nod my head, highlight and take to the deepest part of my heart the very words that you speak to me with your gifts. I thank God that you all have the courage to share with us your gift of words.</div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro', Arial, 'segoe UI', Meiryo, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;">- See more at: http://www.simonedankenbring.com/this-thing-for-books/#sthash.W5PIW9hk.dpuf</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-36031280361154283452014-07-27T22:39:00.002-07:002014-07-27T22:39:13.598-07:00Because I Need to Remember<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro', 'Lucida Grande', 'segoe UI', Meiryo, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;">
<strong><a class="boxer" data-mce-href="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/2014-07-02-18.57.39.jpg" href="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/2014-07-02-18.57.39.jpg"><img alt="2014-07-02 18.57.39" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-1132" data-mce-src="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/2014-07-02-18.57.39-225x300.jpg" height="300" src="http://www.simonedankenbring.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/2014-07-02-18.57.39-225x300.jpg" width="225" /></a>The most important things are easy to remember but those vital to survival, are easy to forget.</strong>I sometimes struggle with remembering to breathe, often holding my breath without realizing it. Just like breathing, life happens and as it does, I get caught up, distracted, and stuck on things that really aren’t important.</div>
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Today has been one of those days...the kind of day that started out with me feeling sorry for myself. I was thinking, “Why me? Why do I have to be the one to go through the pain that I’m in? When will I finally feel “normal” again?” Just as quickly as I thought those words, God whispered this:</div>
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<strong>“Your pain doesn’t define you; it refines you. You have “this” so you won’t forget.”</strong></div>
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Almost two years ago, was when I first began to experience the heart issues and other health issues. Out of the blue it arrived. No warning or way to brace myself for the journey. I’ve been from one specialist to another to seek answers. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been in the ER and admitted into the hospital. As for the tears, God’s bottled enough of those to create another river…cool…the Simone River. I kind of like the sound of that!</div>
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The frustration, the endless tests, humiliation, tons of medication – I’m so over it!!</div>
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Yet, the magnitude hit me today and I remembered - I died. Flat lined. I was brought back for a reason. I vividly remember what I saw and as much as I can put it into words, I can only say “WOW!” before tears fill my eyes.</div>
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<strong>I remember</strong> – and it makes the pain so much more worth it. I’m not the same person I used to be. I’ve become more resilient, maybe more stubborn, definitely more determined to live each moment and breath as if it were my last. I’m not strong enough sometimes – but He is.</div>
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It’s a relief to know that I’m not alone in my pain. In 2 Corinthians 12:8, 9, Paul, who had a thorn in his side asked God three times, to remove the thorn but God told him, “My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in your weakness.” That’s what it’s all about. It’s about me leaning on Him when I can’t walk one step further or when I feel like I’m going to hit the ground.</div>
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Even if in this life I never find my “normal” again, I know I’ll be okay.</div>
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<strong>I won’t forget.</strong></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-57029058903452261302014-07-20T21:15:00.001-07:002014-07-20T21:16:37.865-07:00I'm still here but there's a new neighborhood I'm hanging atHello everyone!<br />
<br />
I hope you haven't forgotten about me. There's been some wonderful changes going on. One of them is that I finally have a domain name so I'm switching over from blogger to wordpress. The latest blog post can be found here: simonedankenbring.com<br />
<br />
It has been a journey..exhilarating, scary and exciting. I'm humbled by all that God is doing in my life. I hope that you will join me and visit me on my new blog: www.simonedankenbring.com See you all there!<br />
<br />
Blessings,<br />
SimoneAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-53182632132867019822014-02-27T17:30:00.000-08:002014-02-27T19:20:13.859-08:00I'm here!I was looking in the mirror the other day and I asked, "Where did all this gray hair come from and why does it seem like it grew in overnight?" Then, I stared at my reflection and thought, "Who are you? Where are you?" Instantly, a few things popped in my thoughts.<br />
<br />
Tired<br />
Restless<br />
Brave<br />
Faithful<br />
Honest<br />
Uncertain<br />
Happy<br />
Silly<br />
Sad<br />
Frustrated<br />
Inspired<br />
<br />
All of those are true emotions based on how crazy life has been. With life, there has been changes and with changes, I'm no longer the same person I was a year ago, a month ago, heck, even a day ago.<br />
<br />
When I first moved out to Oregon, I missed "home". I hated that I had to say goodbye to my best friend, my twin sister as well as others who were such a huge part of my life. At times, I think my dogs got tired of me telling them all of my troubles or having dance parties with them. They would sometimes roll their eyes and I'm almost certain I could hear them say, "I sure hope she doesn't want to have a dance party again!!!"<br />
<br />
Then, life changed. I walked in to a new job, a new neighborhood, a new church...most of all, a brand new LOVE in my life, my J. Did it get easier? No. With being new came the challenges of settling in.<br />
<br />
I remember the first time I took my two puppies out of the car and set them on Oregon soil, they sniffed the air as if to say, "This sure ain't California anymore!" and they couldn't be more right about that! But, I felt like Julie Andrews, wanting to spin around and around singing, "The hills are allllivvve...."<br />
<br />
Where I'm at now is indescribable. God has brought me to the very place where I know without a doubt, I need to be. This is home. In this place called home, I've experienced the joy of seeing my daughter get married to her very best friend. I've held hands and kissed the love of my life in places beautiful beyond words. I've been able to speak for women's ministries and youth groups and summer camps. I've been able to go to football games and become a platypus (a person that not only likes the Oregon Ducks but also the Oregon State Beavers). I've held my cousin as a newborn and I've had the joy of seeing him grow into a big boy of 4. I've had the chance to be a daughter in law to a man who was funny, grouchy and loved all at the same time. In that same breath, I had to say goodbye to that same man as the Air Force honor guards folded up the flag and handed it to my J for the last time. I've adopted two kiddos from Compassion International, loving that they are so very precious to me yet, so far away. I've tasted Voodoo donuts, seen waterfalls up close while feeling the mist on my face. I've touched moss with my bare feet and fed the homeless. I've flatlined and experienced a glimpse of heaven. I've laughed hysterically with tears running down my face. I've sung on my church worship team, caring not how I sounded but feeling just how in awe I am to have the privilege to worship my Creator, my Father. I've earned the title of Bonus Mom and sometimes, I feel like I'm a pretty cool one too. (other times, not so much). I've added another furbaby into my life from death row in California, Bohdi who is absolutely the cutest, greatest dog ever! I've seen nutria up close and they are quite creepy. (Think beaver, rats and hamsters rolled up in package - giant sized!)<br />
<br />
And...<br />
<br />
I found creativity, peace, beauty, restoration, inspiration, joy and most of all...friends.<br />
<br />
There's no other place I'd rather be but HERE.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-42228302331757415242014-02-04T20:27:00.000-08:002014-02-04T20:27:04.494-08:00Storms HappenI was so optimistic about getting back into the creative part of "me" until a storm blew through. Some storms are foreseen but others totally catch us by surprise. This is one storm that we never saw coming.<br />
<br />
On Thursday, I was settling in from working all day when the doorbell rang.Two state troopers. The dogs began to bark so J went outside to speak to them. He came back inside with both of them following close behind.<br />
<br />
"What's wrong?" I whispered, afraid to speak any louder. I had only seen on movies what happens when state troopers are at your front door.<br />
<br />
"Dad was killed," was J's reply.<br />
<br />
The bits and pieces slowly came together. Dad was driving on a curving two lane road and for possible unexplained medical reason, he veered into ongoing traffic and hit a fully loaded logging truck. There were blessings in it but we wouldn't see it until later. He was riding with his partner in crime...his buddy, his dog Max. Max survived as did the two people in the logging truck.<br />
<br />
Dad was the kind of guy who could crack himself up over a joke that only he got. He was also the kind of guy that had euphemisms for days. I admit that I hated watching sports with him because he missed the point of the game while looking at the players and saying, "That guy needs a hair cut!" He also believed in all things Sasquatch and watched the shows that somehow "proved" to him that Bigfoot really existed. Let's not talk about aliens. Those were real too.<br />
<br />
Dad liked to win and hated losing. One day, we went fishing and he wasn't getting a nibble so in 15 seconds or less, he pulled his rod out of the water and said that he just didn't like fishing anymore.<br />
<br />
He never got my name right either but he was the only one that I let it go with. It really was no big deal to be called Ramone instead of Simone. After all, he got some of it right. If he couldn't remember Ramone, then he resorted to calling me "Kid".<br />
<br />
As much as Dad was funny, the serious part of him was this...he loved his son. He fought for him. He sacrificed for him. He taught him what to do and what not to do. While cleaning out some of the clothes in his closet, we found t-shirts from when J was playing football. He was one proud dad of his son's accomplishments.<br />
<br />
I may not have had him in my life for long but he has left a huge mark on my life but being one of kind.<br />
<br />
I miss you, Dad.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-70545681169314990342014-01-02T21:53:00.000-08:002014-01-02T22:07:37.377-08:00One Word - ENOUGH!!!!Happy New Year - 2014. It's been a long time - way too long. But I'm working on a project that is going to keep me from disappearing as long as I have and it's something G-O-O-D.<br />
<br />
Need a HINT?<br />
<br />
<b>Putting the pen to the paper...</b>hint, hint<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I'm feelin' the need to share my <b>ONE WORD - 365. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Are you ready?<br />
<br />
It is.....<br />
<br />
<b>Enough</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Out of all the words that I could've chosen, I feel as if <b>ENOUGH </b>is it for this year.<br />
<br />
I've had <b>ENOUGH </b>of being complacent.<br />
<br />
I've had <b>ENOUGH </b>of not trusting God, <b>ENOUGH.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
No longer will I allow myself to feel that I'm not good <b>ENOUGH - </b>I am cause I Am says that I Am - <b>ENOUGH</b>.<br />
<br />
When I have <b>ENOUGH </b>on my plate, I need to say to myself, "<b>ENOUGH" </b>and mean <b>ENOUGH.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
When the things around me become overwhelming and I feel like I can't take another step, breathe another breath or whisper another prayer, I know that my heavenly Father knows that I've had <b>ENOUGH. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Today, this very minute, I'm committing to being more than <b>ENOUGH </b>in my marriage, in my relationships, in my time spent alone - enjoying the silence.<br />
<br />
I will not throw up my hands and say, "<b>ENOUGH</b>" when the dog barfs on the bed, when the 16 year old princess turns her music up full blast, when I've heard the same story told over and over again, or when I'm in pain and don't think I can deal with it anymore.<br />
<br />
I will say "<b>ENOUGH</b>" when I can't eat anymore, think anymore, go anymore or do anymore.<br />
<br />
I won't say, "<b>ENOUGH</b>" when I am denial and need more sleep, not drinking <b>ENOUGH</b> water or taking the time to be still.<br />
<br />
2 Corinthians 12:8 says, "<span class="text 2Cor-12-8" id="en-NLT-28991" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;">8 </span>Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="text 2Cor-12-9" id="en-NLT-28992" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;">9 </span>Each time he said, <span class="woj">“My grace is all you need {paraphrased -</span></span><b>ENOUGH}</b><span class="woj" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">. My power works best in weakness.”</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
I'm going out on a limb here but I think that Paul has just been told, "You may not be <b>ENOUGH </b>in your weakness but I am more than <b>ENOUGH</b>."<br />
<br />
How about you? Are you <b>ENOUGH</b>?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-55043580036300849882013-09-22T20:09:00.002-07:002013-09-22T20:09:46.207-07:00Soggy Cereal<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the least of my problems but one that I has grabbed my focus lately....soggy cereal. I got my love of cereal before I was even old enough to say, "I'm Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs!! I have a few that are still my faves even though the sugar content is off the un-nutritional charts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries...something about the dye in the crunch berries makes the cereal. Then, there's another favorite of mine, Reese Peanut Butter Puffs...but unfortunately, I can no longer enjoy their peanutty goodness thanks to my new tree nut allergies. Then there's Sugar Frosted Flakes...their GREATTTT!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the biggest dilemma is I can't stand soggy cereal and cereal just ain't cereal unless you have some sort of dairy or wanna be dairy product.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only way I can enjoy a good bowl of cereal is to pour the coconut milk (yep, now allergic to almond milk) into the cereal and try to eat it before the crunch disappears...which is usually 39.2 seconds. (I counted). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why does it seem like the crunch lasted so much longer when I was a kid?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And what does soggy cereal have to do with life? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My longtime blog friend, <a href="http://jennymatlock.blogspot.com/">Jenny Matlock</a> left a comment on my last blog post. She said, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Write what you feel.</span></b></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Write knock knock jokes.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Write nothing.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Just don't curl inside yourself because you have so much to offer the world it would be a shame if your voice went totally silent.</span></span></b><div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Thanks my friend for the reminder that the blog world would be a much more quieter place if I chose not to write. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Last year, I was asked about my love for writing and my reply was, "I write like I breathe. If I couldn't write, I would probably cease to exist." What a melodramatic answer but one that honestly speaks from the depths of who I am. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">I am not finished with writing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Thankfully, writing for me is better than rushing to eat my cereal before the crunch disappears. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">i can take my time, and enjoy every morsel of creativity as it comes (if it comes).</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Thank you all for hanging in there with me...through the good, the bad and the sometimes, soggy. You all remind me that that's why I love to write!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Looking forward to visiting you all!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #202020; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.27272605895996px;">Now, I'm off to have a bowl of cereal.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-14315457395958592772013-08-14T09:14:00.001-07:002013-08-14T09:14:33.388-07:00Losing My Voice<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't stop the sensation. It was a feeling out of my control. In fact, the inner voice was silent, all except this feeling. Then, everything went black.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I woke up to paramedics asking me questions that I couldn't find my voice to answer. My brain seemed to stop and where thoughts were stored, there weren't any at all. (That was horrible in itself...me...the thinker and talker.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Humility hit as slowly, it all came back to me. I was at work and the people swarming around me were my co-workers. I closed my eyes to block out the view of concerned faces and to make sense of it all.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This was the second time I had been in the back of an ambulance and still had no ability to be nosy and check out the view. I just wanted to scream, "What is happening?" But, I couldn't find my voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I got to the ER and my thoughts were starting to surface again. It was a place that looked familiar to me....very familiar.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know how blogging and writing has become shoved and pushed into the recesses and crevices of my life...but the sad truth is, it has. I am losing my voice. I want to regain all that I seem to have lost but I honestly don't know where to start.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Do I start from where I left off or do I write from the "new, improved" riddled with bumps and bruises "me"? If I write from honesty, you all will get the bumps and bruises "me". Is that fair? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But, this has been my life lately and to live it "real", then those are the things that will seep in from time to time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For those of you that are still here, thanks for being so patient with me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For those of you that have left, I don't blame you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh! The story hasn't ended yet. I wait to see if I have a concussion from hitting the floor. I also wait to see a neurologist, hoping for some more answers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Until then...I wait...and I'm here. I've missed you all!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-17321328379486950042013-07-10T21:45:00.003-07:002013-07-10T21:45:27.193-07:00There's an Elephant in the Room!<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">There's an elephant in the room. I don't know how it got there without being noticed or invited, but it did. It must've been small enough to enter through the front door but perhaps while no one was looking, he was eating off of plates left unattended, candy bowls left unguarded and and leftover cookies on a platter. He's grown so big, he can't leave the same way he entered.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I once had an elephant in the room that even a mouse couldn't send him running. That elephant was a person that I trusted as a friend. We were as close as two sisters yet, the elephant crept in. It started when she began to tell hurtful jokes. The elephant grew. Then she turned the conversations into opportunities to put me down, while lifting herself up. The elephant plumped up some more. I cringed my way through conversations with her and avoided confrontations with her. Finally, the elephant became destructive enough that I knew it had to leave. I let her know that something had changed in our friendship. I no longer felt that she valued it the same way that I did. I ended it with, "I hope you find the kind of friendship you want and deserve." The air cleared that day as the elephant left the room.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">The problem with elephants in the room is that they are common. Some start out by holding back the honest truth in a relationship. "I really don't like the way he dresses." "I think he's cheating on me but maybe if I change, he will too."We have nothing in common but I refuse to hurt her feelings." So we go along with it, hoping that the elephant will shrink before our very eyes yet, it becomes an even bigger elephant in the room.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Elephants are everywhere! I have seen elephants in church, at weddings and funerals. I have seen them at family get togethers and the workplace and parties. Raising teens, there are plenty of elephants in the room. So much to say but not enough words to say it or maybe it's fear...plain ol fear that keeps that elephant alive.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I am determined to squash the elephant in the room by feeling the fear and doing it any way. Speaking what's on my mind and my heart. This may be the only time that I have to make that elephant disappear.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">By the way, how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Is there an elephant in your room?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">There</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-26706804599427599022013-06-25T18:12:00.002-07:002013-06-25T18:12:43.277-07:00It's All A Matter of Perspectives<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">It's all a matter of perspective…that is the thought ringing in my head today. I struggle to fight against things going on in my life. The sad fact is that what I'm fighting against is more than likely what was meant in my life all along.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">In almost two years of our marriage, I have held on to a longing to make things "the way they used to be". It's taken me this long to realize that "the way things used to be" is basically the past. And truly I'm not for living in the past but in the present. For one, I was much younger, a little less bold, fearful and seeking out perfection most of the time. Now, I'm willing to try new things, i.e, adventures, food and a neverending thirst to be myself.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I have learned to look at my ongoing medical saga as a way to breathe through the pain and keep on pushing and if pushing doesn't work, sit and chill for a bit. I no longer think that I'm going to die. The way I see it, is if it was my time to go, then when I flat-lined last year, I wouldn't have come back to life. So, I dance in the rain, laugh loudly, hug, hug and really hug those that mean a lot to me. </span></span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">There's no mystery that I miss my daughters but once a month, we get together for an overnight visit…with one of them hosting me. I look forward to spending time sharing, shopping, chatting, eating and just hanging out. </span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Although I have been inconsistent with writing, I have been given the opportunities to speak which excites me to no end. It is my dream/goal to be able to write and be a speaker, full-time. So, instead of me getting frustrated at my lack of writing, I'm reignited by the ability to speak and share with others.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">As I write this, there's another transition happening in my life. J and I will have two adult kids (not necessarily kids) and a teenager living with us, full-time. It has been a huge stress for me. The first thing that came out of my mouth to J was, "I didn't sign up for this!" But, I realized first of all, he didn't sign up for all of the times he's been by my side through the chest pains and tears and other health related issues. I am beginning to breathe through the idea of it all and concentrating on our house being a place where they will eventually all spread their wings and fly. In the meantime, I'm going to do my best to enjoy the comfort of being surrounded by family. (And also pray that they won't harm one another while having to share one bathroom.)</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">And lastly…I'm getting ready to turn 50 in July. As much as most people may not embrace the idea of getting older, I'm excited about the adventures still to come. My bucket list is growing and I can't wait to experience life in a different set of numbers.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">What perspectives have you discovered along the way?</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-47680237678540971992013-06-06T22:36:00.003-07:002013-06-06T22:36:59.225-07:00Birthday wishes for a girl who is....24<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On May 1st, 2013, I walked my baby girl down the path to where her soon to be husband waited for her. I held her hand as we walked. I was reminded that one day, while walking into the grocery store, I told her, "One of these days, you're going to get tired of holding my hand". She replied, "I'll always hold your hand!" So, on that day, we held hands as they began their lives together as husband and wife.<br />
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My eyes filled with tears quite a few times on that day. I remembered that on June 7th, my life was changed when I gave birth to a precious baby girl, Jarani who stole this mama's heart.<br />
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I loved being a mom from the very beginning when my oldest, Ev'Yan was born. With two, you get even more adventures and adventures are putting it lightly.<br />
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Jarebear, I want you to know that on today, that you are a special gift to me. Even though it was 24 years ago, it still feels like yesterday.<br />
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I'm proud of every moment of your life...the good, the bad and the good stuff in between. Through it all, you've taught me to dig in my heels and love and embrace life.<br />
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Without you, I don't think I would've found true happiness and a new life here in Oregon. You were the very best navigator ever. We definitely have some paths still to take. Someday, I hope that that will even include another road trip.<br />
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Thank you for always reminding me that I'm the best mommy ever, even when I feel like I'm messing up, bigtime. Thank you for always saying, "I love you." Thank you for giving me the courage to try new things, knowing that you are cheering for me on the sidelines.<br />
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I love you, my Jarebear. You are beautiful outside but even more, on the inside. I look forward to the many more endearing moments we're going to share together.<br />
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Never forget how much you are loved by this mommy!!!<br />
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Happy birday, Jarani!<br />
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Love you forever and always,<br />
MommyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-36923752732565045672013-06-03T21:49:00.002-07:002013-06-03T21:49:37.667-07:00Laughing and crying<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">You KNOW it’s “one of those days” when you start it out by having M&Ms for breakfast. (Although, it could just be a good excuse for eating something I shouldn’t be.)</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">The truth is, it’s been more than “one of those days” – more like, “one of those weeks or months”. I keep functioning by laughing. In fact, I am beginning to think that I have Laughing Tourette’s because I find throughout the day that I’m laughing to myself.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">The other day, I rolled over my toe while sitting in my office chair. Even though I thought it was broken, I laughed. It would be just one more story to tell in this endless chain of events.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I work next door to a homeless shelter. My view outside my window usually consists of people that are homeless pacing the parking lot throughout the day. A few minutes ago, I heard the loudest, heart wrenching crying coming from outside. A man passed by my window, sobbing. He continued walking, crying and 10 steps later; he was smiling, like his crying never happened.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I thought about how often I have felt like that lately….full on screaming or crying. I really think that crying like that would be cleansing or exhausting. </span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">But, right when I feel overwhelmed from pain or from fear or sadness, I find something to laugh about.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">This morning, while listening to the radio, I heard about the parents of a little girl that drove around with her and her puppy in the dog carrier in the back of their pickup. When pulled over, the parents were puzzled about why they were stopped by the police officer. </span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">"She was strapped down," the dad said.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">"She hadn't seen her puppy for 3 weeks and didn't want the puppy to be without her," said her mom.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">"And she had plenty of kibble," the dad replied.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Seriously??? I can't even wrap my thoughts around something so asnine.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Then, I started to think how often I forget to look for laughter but it always finds me. The funny (no pun intended) thing about laughter is that it never comes in a neatly wrapped package. There is always a snort or a few tears to go along with it. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Today is one of those days I need a good laugh so tell me something funny!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-13312857511165080472013-05-13T20:16:00.001-07:002013-05-13T20:16:32.405-07:00The Winner Is....Mother's day magazine subscription giveawayRona from<a href="http://berrymorinbits.blogspot.com/"> BerryMorins Bits and Pieces</a>.<br />
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I adore Rona. Her and I have been blog friends for quite a few years. I remember being so in awe of her decorative skills and her desire to make great menus for the upcoming week and share tidbits that have helped me learn things that I never knew before.<br />
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Please email me your name and address, Rona and I will be sure to pass it along to magazines.com's representative who will be in touch with you shortly.<br />
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Thanks everyone for entering!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-75776494097026683322013-05-07T08:16:00.001-07:002013-05-07T08:16:36.434-07:00Mother's Day - GiveawayWith Mother's day being only a few days away, I have been thinking about the gift of having a mom and of course, being a mom. It really is a gift. I adore being able to cherish every special memory that I have made with mom. I have walked many times in her high heels when I was growing up, envisioning what it would be like to be grown up just like her.<br />
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Then, when I became a mom, I wondered if I was really cut out to meet the challenges of motherhood. It was through my mom's teaching that I learned to be the best mom that I could be.<br />
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I have been giving the opportunity by <a href="http://magazines.com/">magazines.com</a> to give one of my readers an opportunity to win a free magazine subscription valued up to $10.00 for you or for your mom or someone that you know would love to be given the gift subscription.<br />
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I first discovered the love of reading magazines when I was a teen. I found not only fashion tips but advice, recipes and more! Now, there are magazines for every love...scrapbooking, hiking, fashion, new moms, cardmaking, weight loss and so many other topics.<br />
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To enter, leave a comment with your email address (if it isn't linked through your comment) and I will choose one reader on Saturday, 9:00 am, pacific time. You will be notified by email.<br />
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Please spread the word!!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-4753368499214605732013-04-27T16:15:00.002-07:002013-04-27T16:15:40.704-07:00Four More Days Until "I do"From the moment our kids are born, we pray for them - for their hopes, dreams, health and of course, their faith. As parents, our kids look to us for direction and to walk in our shoes. There are times when I can honestly admit that I sure didn't want my girls to walk in my shoes because my shoes were dirty and less than I'd want for them to walk in.<br />
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Many nights, I lie awake, rocking my youngest who seemed to never sleep. I'd pray for her to be loved and cherished the way a mom's heart cherishes her. I would pray that she would eventually get potty trained, telling her that if she didn't "get it" one day, her husband would be the one to change her diapers.<br />
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Oh, and marriage....As she grew old enough to know a little of the concept of marriage as a three year old, her honest plea was, "I'm going to mawwy Stevie Wonder". Such certainty! Just as sure as she knew that her eyes were "bwack".<br />
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The day, in her teens, when she was 14, she brought over Orlando to watch movies and introduced him to me. Something about him, I instantly liked which eventually turned into a mom's love. Jokingly, I would say, "Oly is like a fixture in our home." But, he was more than that, he was a good friend to Jarani especially when her bottom fell out and my divorce happened. He brought me flowers on Mother's day, always giving me a hug and being there.<br />
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Even though they were "just friends", I saw the love and determination in Oly. His parents told me that when Oly was in kindergarten, he would cry out that all he wanted was to "get married". I hoped that one day, Jarani would see the deep love that Oly had for her and her alone.<br />
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Then, it happened. They fell in love. Their friendship turned into a beautiful, romantic love story. The very moment that he asked her to be his girlfriend, on May 1st was a day where Jarani smiled bigger than I've ever seen her smile.<br />
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And on May 1st, 4 days from now, they will say, "I do". A mom's heart always dreams that their children will find true love as they spread their wings and soar. This mommy's heart is bursting.<br />
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Four more days...I will stand by her side as she steps into a new beginning filled with wonder, of course, challenges but with the love that they share I know they will get through it with God's help.<br />
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I love you guys so very much!!!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-9829923374461236132013-04-18T21:34:00.001-07:002013-04-18T21:34:09.192-07:00Falling UpstairsOne day, while at a huge convention center, going upstairs, I tripped. No explained reason why...I just tripped and hit the stairs. I said to myself, "Simone, only YOU can trip going upstairs." I don't know if that was prophetic but that has been my life lately.<br />
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I feel like a modern day Job in the female form. Since the beginning of this year, I have:<br />
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a messed up knee (tripping and falling on the sidewalk)<br />
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chest pains (undetermined but pointing to a few possibilities that have landed me in the ER or hospital 3.5 times this year alone) (5 specialists trying to determine the exact cause at the moment)<br />
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macular pucker (yes, there is a known anomalie) in my right eye which resembles an amoeba continuously floating across my vision<br />
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undiagnosed food allergies which has caused anaphylactic reactions approximately 15 times this year alone<br />
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obstructive apnea which has caused me to stop breathing during two procedures in the hospital<br />
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and the latest, infections in my jaw bone, sinus cavity, eye socket and chin, stemming from a missing filling in my tooth. My face on the right side has been so painful to the touch and I resemble an Oompah Loompah<br />
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I also came down with a cold on top of all of those things.<br />
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I'm now wondering quite loudly, "Why me????"<br />
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Then I hear a calm, quiet voice..."Why not you?"<br />
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Humbling. "Why not me???"<br />
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I have fallen into the pity party mode. I can't seem to understand why and when this will all come to an end.<br />
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I long for my life to be normal again.<br />
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I long to belly laugh and really laugh until tears run down my face.<br />
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I want to wake up in the morning feeling refreshed and not wondering how many pain medication it will take for me to get through the day.<br />
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I long to plan something and follow through, not doubting whether I will be there or not.<br />
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I also want to smile on the outside and also on the inside. That's the key, I do the smiling on the outside really well but I don't do a very good job of smiling on the inside.<br />
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The simple truth is that I have fallen upstairs again. I just don't know how to get up this time. I'm embarrassed that others have seen me fall. This time, there is no pretending to be dancing, it is what it is....I've fallen and I feel like I can't get back up.<br />
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But I will. I have a track record of tripping over air and then finding my footsteps again. In the meantime...<br />
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I'm here. I may not respond to your blog posts immediately but I'm reading. I'm cheering you on, laughing with you, crying with you, thinking of you.<br />
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That's what friends are for.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-57026068145321102442013-04-07T10:57:00.002-07:002013-04-07T10:57:48.248-07:00It's Not All About Me - UBP13Welcome to the <a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/75741/ultimate-blog-party-2013/">Ultimate Blog Party</a> stop! I'm so glad that you came by to visit and I hope you'll stay! I'm Simone. I'm a lover of exclamation points. A lover of God and my sweetheart, J also known as Pastor J. We are newlyweds and getting ready to celebrate our second year of marriage. I'm also a speaker and writer and love speaking for women's and youth ministries. I like to make things, dig in the dirt and create music, messes and yummy meals.<br />
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Life has been filled with surprises for me in the last year or so. I call them Peek A Boo surprises because God and only He can allow some of the excitement that has happened in my life.<br />
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I'm a mommy to two grown up beauties - Ev'Yan and Jarani. I have a wonderful son in law, Jonathan Mead - who is successfully blowing up the internet with ways to create your own niche and become your own boss at <a href="http://paidtoexist.com/">Paid to Exist</a>. I also have another son in law who is just equally creative and wonderful, Orlando (who will make this mama's heart smile when he married my Jarani on May 1st) who in the future will be opening up their very first bakery and cafe'. (Can we say, "Free cookies for this mommy for life???) :)<br />
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I have 4 bonus kids by way of my J - Brittney, Jeffrey, Michelle and Ashley. They are all very unique and there is certainly no dull moment when they are here with us. They bring us joy.<br />
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I'm a twin to <a href="http://writingandallthatjazz.blogspot.com/">Nay Nay</a> who has been my best friend since we were wombmates. There's not a dull moment when we get together. In fact, last night, thanks to her, she MADE me eat dog food with her so she wouldn't be alone in her quirkiness. (It wasn't all that bad.)<br />
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Then of course, life wouldn't be fun unless there were two four legged babies to add to the mix - Mooshu and Selah, shih tzus that think that they are kids, very hairy kids.<br />
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I hope that you'll find a place to call home here at chocolatecovereddaydreams. I'm anxious to visit with you and meet some new blog friends.<br />
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Nice meeting you! :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-30876461346110668692013-03-14T21:49:00.003-07:002013-03-14T21:49:54.729-07:00My Bucket List<br />
My twin sis and I have bucket lists. The funny thing is that they aren't literally on paper. They are in our heads.<br />
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For instance, my Nay Nay called me and said, "You won 't believe what I did! I got big girl shoes…for my bucket list."<br />
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"Really? Big girl shoes?" I asked. I knew exactly what she meant. When we were born, and back in the day when braces could or should be recommended for feet that in-toed, we weren't given that joy. As a result, walking in high heels can often be a challenge. My Nay Nay decided that she was going to cross off one thing on that bucket list and found a deal of 10 pairs of heels. (Not one but 10. She went for the gusto.) Each day, she practiced walking in her big girl shoes until the moment finally came and she ROCKED those heels!<br />
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Together we have decided that we WILL cross off stuff on our growing bucket lists. Some of those things are on both of our lists while others are our very own "personal" bucket lists.<br />
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Some of mine are a bit on the outlandish side. But, in my own defense, I like to think BIG!!<br />
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Here are a few glimpses into my growing list…<br />
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1) Going on an African safari. This will have to be one that I do on my own OR my sis would have to go with me. J says that he refuses to be a lion's meal.<br />
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2) Doing a stand-up comedy act. (I think I'm funny. So maybe I'll discover a new hidden talent.)<br />
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3) Going to Uganda or China and adopting one or two or maybe three kids. (J is keeping his mouth closed on this one. He says that unless he is "called" to go, he's not going. I just hope God wakes him up with a LOUD voice.)<br />
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4) Working in the assembly line at See's Candy.<br />
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5) Write a few books…not one or two but a few.<br />
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6) Go to the top of a mountain and camp out while listening to God speak<br />
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7) Go barn chasing a la taking pictures of as many barns as I can.<br />
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8) Pet a newborn sheep<br />
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9) Play a character on Grey's Anatomy.<br />
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10) Take a cruise to Alaska. (Hopefully, with all you can eat crab legs.)<br />
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Told you some of them don't make sense! :)<br />
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What are some things you would add to your bucket list?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430245182138060252.post-81978668846193327772013-02-12T22:13:00.001-08:002013-02-12T22:13:14.994-08:00Why I Married JWhen I first started blogging, I was "happily" married for 21 years. Then divorce happened. The ugliness of unfaithfulness sent me spinning into a life I hadn't anticipated. Being real here...divorce is ugly. PERIOD. <div>
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Flash forward a few years...I was at a place in my life where I discovered the Simone that I had never known. I found my voice and a place where I could finally smile again but I was lonely. I wanted to share my life with someone but not just any "someone" a God's gift to me "someone". </div>
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In all honesty, I kissed a few toads before I found my handsome prince. I became disillusioned and distrustful, thinking that there were no more good guys. The guys that I dated really had no clue who "Simone" was. They didn't know what put a smile on my face or what made me laugh or the silly side of me. They didn't really know how much I loved the feeling of holding hands and being told that I was beautiful.</div>
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My J was that gift to me. He showed me what true love was and is all about. He brought out the innocence once more, in me. I see the world differently because of him. </div>
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When we first met, the very first thing that attracted me to J was his faith. He lived his faith out loud. He was honest, loving, and caring. But he was "quiet". The Simone that I am, isn't necessarily quiet all the time. I have an ornery streak a mile long and when something says, "Do not touch", you bet, I will touch. But J understands me and he reminds me to take life slower and cherish the crashing of the waves on the seashore.</div>
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The very first time we were walking hand in hand, I tripped going up the stairs (no surprise there) and his reaction was to firmly grasp my hand to keep me from falling. He didn't realize just how much that little gesture showed me that he would be my protector, my faithful friend, my greatest cheerleader.</div>
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Our marriage has been less than perfect. We have had many, many challenges to deal with...one of those being my health. I will never forget that when I flatlined, the very first person who's face I saw was my J's. I cry even now remembering it. </div>
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I married J because his love is REAL. He gets me. He is loving, faithful and values me more than his very own life. His is a listener, a lover, an encourager, a teacher. He has brought about the passion of knowing God...<i>REALLY </i>knowing God.</div>
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I look forward to spending the rest of my life with a man that finally gets me and loves me just the way I am....imperfections and all.</div>
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That's why I married J. I would do it over and over again.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04459265311205890622noreply@blogger.com14