tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88383031284710658102024-03-12T19:44:34.828-04:00Simply MeMy blog about anything and everything - no subject is off limits!Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-27178472613089156942019-11-24T22:40:00.001-05:002019-11-25T10:54:47.398-05:00Old TowelsWhen I was a young woman, a new wife trying to find my place in the world, I thought I needed all the shiny new things for my home. The latest appliances, the trendy knick knacks, name brand furniture, matching dishes and fancy linens. Oh the linens! For some reason I loved getting new linens. I still do but now out of necessity. I just had to have all matching linens, coordinating colors, and those useless little finger tip towels. What are those about? When people would come over, even my parents, I'd put out the 'good towels'. Don't look at me like you don't know...you do. I was obsessed in making sure my home looked spit spot when anyone visited. This earned more than a few life lessons from my dad, especially that day I wanted to show off my new towels. He said, "Jean, your old towels are better than my good towels."<br />
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It's taken me more than a few years to realize the lesson behind that simple statement: my old good towels were better than most people had and I didn't really need new shiny ones just to show off or feel like I'd arrived as a wife and homemaker. I should be satisfied with what I have because I was already more blessed than I realized. </div>
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I understand it now. With age really does come wisdom and the knowledge that as long as the item works it doesn't really matter what it looks like. I have so many different color towels, different sizes, different kinds. I use Christmas kitchen towels all year long. I have pot holders from my first year of marriage...29 years ago. They still work. They match nothing. None of my pillows are the same. None of my sheets match. Oh how I used to fuss and spend money on 'matching' bed sets. I have a handmade Amish quilt in a bag in the closet because the animals would ruin it. I'd rather the fur babies be happy and comfy than use a fancy quilt no one ever sees anyway. </div>
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In the end what matters is that my family has towels for washing and drying and mopping up pet spills. Our home is happy and healthy (if you're not allergic to pet hair), and well lived in. Over the years I've attempted to get everything to match or have a theme. Eventually something else comes along that's more important than new linens or matching curtains. After all, old towels are good for just about anything. </div>
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So if you come to my house know that nothing matches and there's not many shiny things hanging around (the fur babies have either destroyed them or eaten them). But you'll be treated like family, loved beyond measure and treated to a good cup of coffee. I hope you drop by soon. </div>
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-13382819018086775572016-06-01T17:36:00.000-04:002016-10-23T00:04:13.783-04:00Its Another Open Letter Thing
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">An open letter to my daughter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Dear daughter, today is the first day of
the rest of your life. As you leave on your journey you are not just going on a
trip. Today when you leave it is the culmination of your life’s preparations. You
are not just taking on a new job, you are embarking on a new life that you
built – all on your own. They say a parent’s job is to teach their children to
not need them anymore. The hardest part of that job is accepting success. And
success is what you have achieved. You may not be thinking that now, but each
step you take is success, even if it’s not what you expected or wanted. Because
with every step forward or backward is a lesson to be learned. To accept
success for every step is to revel in the achievement or learn the lesson and
move forward. If you do that you will always be successful. Great men and women
aren’t great because of what they achieve. They are great because they learn
the lessons along the way and believe they can make a difference. And you do
make a difference. Believe this and you can never truly fail. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Abraham Lincoln is quoted as saying,
“Always bear in mind that your resolution to succeed is more important than any
other.” Your success may not look like someone else’s success. At some point
this may bother you or them. But that is not what is important. God says in Deuteronomy
8:18, “But thou shalt remember the LORD thy God: for it is he that giveth thee
power to get wealth, that he may establish his covenant which he sware unto thy
fathers, as it is this day.” Success is to let God guide your every step. If in
all your years at home you take away nothing else, take away this: You will
never fail as long as He is your guiding hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Parents all over the world hold many
memories of their children, some memories are stronger than others. I remember
that call you made to me to tell me of your plans to move to North Carolina to
continue your employment with Publix. I remember specifically the joy in your
voice as you told me your plans, how excited you were that this opportunity had
presented itself. But it wasn’t the joy over that that thrilled me. What
thrilled me was the joy you exuded over finally knowing your place in the
world, your purpose, and how relieved you were that your dad and I were on
board. How could we not be? Your success and happiness overshadows any feelings
we have. I’ve told you from the time you were little that all we want is for
you to be happy no matter what your chosen profession. So go be happy, even if
it means in North Carolina. You’ll be back to visit, and you’ll miss us like we
will miss you. But you’ll build your new life with new friends and
opportunities that wouldn’t necessarily happen here. So go – build it! Life is
about living so make it count. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">I pride myself on being a whiz with
words but I find myself utterly speechless at this moment trying to finish
this. I am filled with pride at the beautiful, vivacious, brilliant young woman
you are. I look at pictures of you as a baby or young child and it’s so
precious to me to see that look in your eyes, that spark that has now been illuminated.
It’s always been there only we didn’t really know how you were going to use it.
Now we know. I am so thankful that God gave me you. You have been my angel,
always having faith in me no matter what. I thought telling you I had cancer
was hard; this is probably more difficult than that. But I’m not saying goodbye.
I’m saying until we see you again beautiful girl. Be good. Be strong. Be sure.
Be humble. But most importantly, be you. I love you over and over again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Mom </span>Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-30316482293604028162016-04-27T23:20:00.001-04:002016-04-27T23:20:53.744-04:00It's an Open Letter ThingAn open letter from a birth mother to her daughter:<br />
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You are 28 today. Happy birthday. Every year you grow more beautiful and it has been my privilege to watch your transformation. They say pain and grief are lessened over time, but in 28 years I still remember the physical pain of childbirth and the emotional pain and grief over letting you go. But what they say is true because that pain and grief have been replaced by happiness and joy at being a part of your life, if even only for a little while. That happiness is multiplied as you have expanded your family with a daughter of your own, a husband, a wonderful stepson, and a new life on the way. My heart grows every time I see you and the little ones that call me Ninny. There are so many layers to this thing called life, and it is only made more rich as I remember exactly how I felt that day 28 years ago.<br />
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I was young. I was scared. I had no idea how I was going to care for you the way you deserved. So I knew what I had to do but that didn't make it any easier. I thought about you every day, wondering how you were doing, if you were growing, if you were sick, if you were happy, if you were learning, if you were safe, if you had everything you needed...all the things all moms worry about...because no matter how far away from me you were, I could feel in my heart you were still mine. I understood you had a mom and a dad - as you deserved and needed - a mom and dad to help you grow and care for you, to love you unconditionally. And to this day I am ever grateful for the sacrifice they made for you, to love you so much and bring you into their family as their own. Without them, you would not be you, or have the life you have. <br />
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For the past 28 April 28th's I have had these very thoughts, and for the first 17 I never knew if I would ever meet you. But your parents instilled in you the virtues of honesty, family, integrity, and purpose, and inspired you to know that biologically your history was different from theirs. They wanted you to know your heritage and be proud of it. Because of this, on your 17th birthday, I was your wish come true - something so rare that many reading this will not even understand how that would feel. Your birthday wish was to meet me - your birth mother - and it came true. That day, oh that day will always live in my memory. That moment you turned around and I saw you for the very first time holds an island in my memory bank that will forever be etched in gold.<br />
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Since then, on every April 28th I have been able to wish you happy birthday in person rather than just in my mind and heart. We have celebrated with you, sent presents, cards and text messages...something moms do for their kids every day. So on this golden birthday you should know how much light and sunshine you bring to my life. To know you, to see you build a life and family of your own, to celebrate weddings, babies, birthdays, Christmases and summer vacations with you is truly a joy, an honor, and a privilege. Knowing all this it occurs to me that I guess I'm not that much different than any other mom. I worry about you. I pray for you. I hope you are safe. I tell you I love you. <br />
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So to you daughter...from one mom to another...happy birthday. I hope it is all you wish for and more. I love you. <br />
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Love,<br />
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The Mom Who Wasn't<br />
<br />Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-1174025051841875602015-12-24T22:41:00.001-05:002015-12-24T22:41:19.851-05:00It's a Christmas ThingThere are many ways to say Merry Christmas. There are many reasons to celebrate and many carols to sing. But God laid on my heart a new song - actually, a different twist on an old favorite. <br />
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The twelve things at Christmas that I am thankful for:<br />
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12 - The dozens of blooms in our yard showing me that no matter how dormant and dead something may seem on the outside, life is still brimming on the inside just waiting to bloom again.<br />
11 - The eleven bills I paid last month without wondering where the money was coming from. Do you realize how big a blessing that really is?<br />
10 - The number of chances I get to make things right; well, maybe its more than 10.<br />
9 - The number of angels surrounding my girls each and every day.<br />
8 - The number of hours I'm able to work in a day at a job I love that provides for my family.<br />
7 - The number children and grandchildren (of course I'm already counting the newest addition even though he/she is not here yet!).<br />
6 - A magical age full of wonder and the blessing that we can remember long ago, a time past, when dreams were really big.<br />
5 - The number of years I've been cancer-free.<br />
4 - The number of bars on my black belt; yes it's a blessing because I'm physically fit and able to do something I love.<br />
3 - The magical number of cats we always seem to have.<br />
2 - This represents the two most loving, caring, perfectly imperfect parents who raised me to love, to question my world, to have a moral center and let God lead me.<br />
1 - I'm most thankful for God letting me spend this life and the next with my husband, the one person who embodies the spirit of Christ - love, hope, patience, kindness, forgiveness.<br />
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As I was lying in bed dreaming of Christmas, I marveled at how simply God works. I was looking out my window and the clouds were very thick and heavy with coming rain. But the light of the moon was even stronger. It shone through enough to light up the sky like our very own nightlight. As I ponder on the things I'm most thankful for, it is this time of year that we celebrate Christ's birth. And I can't think of anything I'm more grateful for than God's forbearance of the human race and His capacity to love us beyond measure. He sent His son so that we could spend eternity with Him. As in the song, <i>Anno Dominae</i>,<i></i> "the past can be forgiven, the future be rewritten". Like the moon shining through the darkness of the storm clouds, God's love can shine through the murkiest sins and make you new. May we remember in this world gone astray that God still loves us and is waiting. <br />
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May you all have a blessed, merry, peaceful Christmas and a joyous new year. Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-54932977646116267712015-10-05T13:28:00.002-04:002015-10-05T13:28:27.662-04:00It's a Halloween ThingWith Halloween right around the corner, I couldn't help but share this poem again. It's so fun and whimsical. Happy Halloween!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once upon a time<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On All Hallow’s Eve<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were moans and groans<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And many screams.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Goblins and ghouls<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Roamed the halls<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking for victims<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or chocolate popcorn balls.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Zombies and ghosts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And superheroes galore<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ninjas and turtles<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All added to the gore.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Houses dressed up<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In ghoulish delight<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While witches and warlocks<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Watched into the night.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pumpkins were carved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And lit from within<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They smiled and grimaced<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Through thick or thin skin.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Soon the streets emptied<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The wookies were tired<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The monsters were sated<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even the vampires.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All Hallow’s Eve <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">was once again done<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Till this time next year<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beware – they come!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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(c)jma 2013Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-13763789160092855062015-09-26T23:39:00.001-04:002015-09-26T23:39:45.889-04:00It's a Top Ten List for Ninjas ThingI've been thinking about this blog for a couple of weeks now. I really did want to get something out there about my most recent accomplishment, but I wasn't entirely sure I wanted it to be one of those feel-good, gooey blogs. I could write about how much power your mind has over your body, or how I set my sights on 4th degree after my breast cancer diagnosis 5 years ago, or how I trained so hard the test was not easy by any means, but not near as hard as I thought because I'd prepared myself well. Or even how I know there are things I need to work on and want to improve. There's all sorts of ways this blog could go. I settled on a Top 10 list type of blog. So here it is:<br />
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My Top 10 List for Ninjas<br />
10) Be pink. Ninjas can't be seen because, well they're ninjas. So wearing pink won't give you away. And pink is a tough color to pull off, so only the best ninjas can wear pink and wear it well.<br />
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9) Train hard. And then train some more because someone will eventually record you and you will instantly know you have to train even harder. So just get used to it. <br />
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8) Pet a cat. Cats have natural ninja power. The more you pet a cat, the more ninja vibe you can extract from them. Don't worry. Their power regenerates nightly. You know because they use it to wake you the following morning for breakfast. <br />
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7) Spar a kid. Not just any kid; choose wisely. Nothing makes you better at sparring than getting your butt kicked by a kid half your size and 3 decades younger than you. <br />
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6) Find your groove. It's easy to get caught up in all kinds of diet fads, but ninjas need energy therefore the logic would follow that ninjas need cake. And pizza. And chocolate.<br />
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5) Get gross. Get used to being gross. Get used to taking lots of showers and doing lots of laundry (unless you live in California).<br />
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4) Skip the doctor. Unless it's serious, while you're in training you gotta suck up the soreness, strained muscles, and bruises. The doctor will only laugh and shake his head at you in disbelief that a normal person would do this to themselves. <br />
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3) Recruit the doctor's kids. This way you can skip No. 4 and go to the doctor because he will now understand. You can laugh and shake your head at him. <br />
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2) Get a pedicure. Nothing pampers a ninjas feet more than a pedicure. And cute nail polish - don't forget the nail polish.<br />
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1) Write a blog. Chronicle your journey somehow. After all, people love reading about a complete stranger's exploits in becoming a ninja. <br />
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But probably my overall advice for ninjas - don't take yourself too seriously. Enjoy the journey because you don't want it to end. Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-62822975992220337152015-08-02T20:20:00.001-04:002015-08-02T20:20:39.513-04:00It's a Miracle Thing<span style="font-family: Calibri;">God says in Psalm 46:10, "Be still, and know that I
am God." This one sentence packs a powerful punch. The Bible also tells
the story of when Elijah went up into the mountains of Horab, the mount of God,
looking for his Lord. In 1 Kings 19:11-12, the Lord passed by him and there was
a mighty wind, an earthquake and a fire, but the Lord was not in any of those;
He was in the still, small voice that spoke to Elijah. In our modern world
view, we think that miraculous has to be big – like the parting of the sea for
the Israelites, or a burning bush calling to Moses. To bring in some pop
culture to this discussion, the movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bruce
Almighty</i> comes to mind. Bruce, played by Jim Carrey, thinks that God has
forgotten about him because everyone around seems to be getting what they want
while he is left behind. When ‘God’ actually takes him up on his offer to run
the world better, Bruce decides to get some things for himself first…without
thinking of the consequences. After much calamity, God tells Bruce that if he
really wants to see miracles, he should <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">be</i>
the miracle. A kid saying no to drugs – that’s a miracle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A single mom working and raising her children
– that’s a miracle. Miracles are in the small, everyday things that we take for
granted. Bruce had taken for granted that he had a good job, a girlfriend who
loved him, and was doing what he loved – the small things. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think we need to let go of our delusions of grandeur
when it comes to miracles. God <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i> be
in the big things, because He is everywhere, but He would rather speak to us in
the stillness and quiet when we can really hear Him. He cares about every
aspect in our life and sometimes we get so busy, our lives get so loud, that we
can’t hear Him. But if we only stop for a moment, we can grasp how much He
really does care and plans things to perfection just for us because He loves
us. Remember that appointment you had to go to but were running behind through
no fault of your own? And how all the lights seemed to be green, traffic was
light, and there were no obstructions? You probably had a fleeting thought of, “oh,
wow, lucky me; traffic is light today.” What you didn’t notice was the string
of angels left panting in your wake who were instructed to help you out because
God knew how important that appointment was and you were not at fault for being
late. He took care of you in the still, small voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">God loves to show up big – parting of the Red Sea, raising
the dead, 10 plagues, driving out demons – but He can use the small things to make just as big an
impact. Consider the story where God instructed Abraham to sacrifice his son,
Isaac, on the altar to test Abraham’s faith. At the very last moment, God
provided a ram caught in the bushes for the sacrifice instead. We believe it to
be a miracle – just in time – but in reality, God knew Abraham would obey so He
knew to have that ram ready to be sacrificed.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Right now in our lives, God has provided a ram for us –
just in time. You see, our oldest cat, Aladdin, who we adopted shortly after we
moved into our home 16 years ago, is not doing well. In fact, by the time you
read this he could be gone. It’s hard to say goodbye to these fur-babies. They
are more than pets – they are family. We come to care about them, love them,
understand their meows and barks, and make the commitment to care for them like
family when we invite them into our home. Although we gave Aladdin to Lorrie
for her birthday the year we moved in, as you may know, the human doesn’t
choose the cat – the cat chooses their human. Aladdin is an ‘every cat’ meaning
he didn’t particularly choose one of us over the other. We call him our only ‘real’
cat because he’s the only feline we have right now that actually acts like you
think a cat should. But over the years, he took a liking to Kellie and summoned
her to bed for most of her primary school years, all the way through high
school. 9pm every night, he’s calling her to bed and lying with her until she
was asleep. Somehow he knew she needed something furry to help her settle in at
bedtime. Now, as he nears his walk over the Rainbow Bridge, God knew Kellie
would need something to fill the hole left by Al’s parting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if by miracle, a few weeks ago Geoff and
I heard something crying near the taekwondo academy. It was a kitten – and not just
any kitten. It turned out to be a female calico who looks a lot like JackJack’s
baby sister, Mia, who died when she was 7 months old (which was a tough loss
for Lorrie who had raised both JackJack and Mia from birth). Why is this
important? Although Lorrie is the main cat whisperer in our home, Kellie was
the one who took this kitten under her wing, and in turn the kitten, Mo, chose
Kellie as her human. Even JackJack has embraced this new addition to the
household which was important for all of us considering JackJack’s place in the
cat pecking order. Al’s place can never be taken by another, but I believe God
knew Kellie would need to love something else to help her heart heal, so He
sent Mo and provided us the means to be able to keep her. God cares that we
love our pets – His creation! – like we do and in turn took care to ensure Al’s
love would continue through this new little gal. Now THAT’s what I call a
miracle. In the still, small voice God spoke through that kitten, ensuring we
would hear her (she’s not cried that loud since she came to live with us!). And
right now, Mo and JackJack are curled up together on the back of the couch,
safe, loved, and (I’m not ashamed to say), a little spoiled. All because God
cares.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He cares when you’ve misplaced something you need. He
cares when you want to lose weight. He cares when you want a new job. He cares
when you need relief from a headache. He cares when you just need to rest
because you’ve been so busy. He cares. “Be still, and know that I am God.” Be
still and listen to Him speak. Be still and let Him lead and perform those
miracles in your life, big or small. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span>Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-74835481534013726622015-06-22T23:00:00.001-04:002015-06-22T23:00:17.422-04:00It's a Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay ThingSunday, June 21, 2015 - Father's Day and the First Day of Summer<br />
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I'm sitting on the boardwalk near Pier 5 and the National Aquarium at Baltimore's Inner Harbor. I was wiling away the hours waiting for the Huey Lewis and the News concert to begin. It's a perfect East Coast summer afternoon. There's a breeze blowing across the harbor, fluttering flags and short skirts as it races down the boardwalk. Otis Redding's song, "Sittin on the Dock of the Bay" plays in my mind. The sun is beginning to set and the blue sky is dotted with puffy clouds, plane trails, and the gray bank of a storm front off in the distance. I have a great view of the Hermione, a 12-pounder Concorde class frigate. She is a reproduction of the 1779 Hermione which ferried General Lafayette to the Americas in 1780 to allow him to rejoin the American side of the Revolutionary War. Although the wind is berating her colors, she lies firm in her hull against the barrage. I also have a front row seat of the paddle-boats listing helplessly against the dock, their passengers unable to dislodge them with their mighty peddling. It's all in vain when fighting the wind and tide. The motorized tug boat comes to rescue them, only for others to follow in their wake.<br />
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But neither of these views, nor the passersby, draw my attention for long. It's the couple sitting on the next bench. I guess them to be mid-sixties, maybe a bit older - white hair, aging bodies - but absolutely perfect in their embrace. The man sits tall, but at an angle, while his wife (I assume - both are wearing wedding bands) leans against him and has her head resting on his shoulder. His arm is stretched over the back of the bench and he caresses her shoulder. They are watching the paddle-boats with amusement just like I am, sharing a secret laugh here and there. My heart warms at how comfortable they are with each other, how familiar. They have obviously spent a lifetime together. I am drawn to their space - spiritually, not physically. I watch them, sparingly, and am in awe of them. For the most part they sit quietly; no need for idle chatter, social media or smart phones. They only need each other, a comfortable bench, and time to just 'be'. They are clearly of one mind and one soul.<br />
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Humans are social creatures. God engineered us this way. In fact, He created Adam because He was lonely and wanted a companion. Then He saw that Adam was lonely and created Eve to be a partner for him. Studies have proven over and over again that humans fare better when they have sufficient social capital to support them through life's curves, turns, twists and peaks.<br />
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I am intrigued because it makes me long for home and my 'one'. It also brought to mind another blog I wrote about the passing of time and the movement of generations. First my husband and I were the young couple just starting out, looking up to those families with young children. Then, when we were the family with young children, we couldn't help but look up to and wonder how long it would be until we were the family at the next table with grown children. And now we are the family at the next table with the grown children looking up to the next generation of empty-nesters and how long it will be until we are there. When we do arrive at that moment, I look forward to us being that couple on the next bench, relaxing while the world rushes by - the young families, elderly couples, teenagers, college students - remembering those moments in our lives that brought us here. As I continue to write this blog (prior to typing it here), many generations pass by, each unaware of the passage of time as observed by a solitary girl sitting on a boardwalk bench.<br />
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The breeze is still attempting to dislodge the Hermione from her berth, but settles on moving the hapless paddle-boats. So goes with life - the wind attempts to dislodge us. But like the Hermione, if we are lucky enough to be firmly moored to those around us, the wind may move on and settle on berating the hapless persons who go through life in a singular state. Will we be firmly moored enough to withstand the buffeting of the wind so that in the setting of our lives we are relaxing on a boardwalk bench? Or are we helplessly tossed about, at the mercy of the man with the motorized boat to come save us? The choice is ours. How it ends is up to you.Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-60375580695456681122014-12-29T21:17:00.001-05:002014-12-29T21:17:32.880-05:00It's a Nole ThingIn honor of the Rose Bowl on January 1, 2015, between the Florida State Seminoles and Oregon, I am proud to present, courtesy of Ray Will, <em>The Book of Beginnings, Florida's Amplified Version.</em><br />
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<strong>The Book of Beginnings</strong><br />
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Chapter I<br />
1 - In the beginning God created FSU and the football field. 2 - And God said, "We need a coach." So He created Bobby Bowden. 3 - And Bobby breathed life into the football program at FSU. 4 - So Bowden went about hiring coaches and recruiting players, 5 - and Bowden saw what he had created and was well pleased.<br />
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Chapter II<br />
1 - And Bowden said, "Let us have dominion over all the animals and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the turf. 2 - And it was so; as Weldon, <em>Ward, Weinke and Winston </em>tossed the ball to and fro that the animals became <em>confused</em> and knew not what they were doing. 5 - And the long passes and quarterback sacks became thorns in their sides and they went home howling and licking their wounds.<br />
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Chapter III<br />
1 - And so it was that the <em>Seminole</em> had control over all the animals - Gators, Lions, <em>Bulldogs, and Tigers - </em>and every other such wild thing that creepeth upon the turf. 2 - And Bowden looked again at what he had created and saw that it was very good. 3 - So Bobby and the team rested <em>after the 1993 championship was theirs</em>, and did not exercise, nor lift weights, nor watch films for many weeks. <em>4 - And so Bowden handed his legacy to Jimbo Fisher and saw that he had an excellent team. </em><br />
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<strong>The Book of Predictions</strong><br />
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Chapter I<br />
1 - For I testify that these words are true and that the records testify to that which I claim. 2 - He which testifies these things says, "Surely we did it <em>last</em> year and we can do it <em>this </em>year also, Amen. 3 - Grace and good sportsmanship <em>and another national championship</em> be to you and <em>Nole fans everywhere. </em><br />
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<em>Postscript</em><br />
I found these amongst some of my dad's other writings. Not everything he wrote was words of wisdom. Some were just whimsical and fun. I never knew how much he liked the Seminoles and that he watched every game. I also didn't know until a short while ago that one of my brothers played football for FSU. I added the words in italics to bring it into the present as he wrote this quite a few years (or decades) ago. So on this occasion as our Noles remain undefeated and look to win another championship, as Dad so eloquently put it, "Grace and good sportsmanship and another national championship be to you and Nole fans everywhere."<br />
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(c)Ray Will<br />
(c) J.M. AmisonSimply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-6895677893692160672014-12-24T15:26:00.000-05:002014-12-24T15:26:17.747-05:00It's a Name Thing“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”, is a frequently referenced part of William Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet, in which Juliet seems to argue that it does not matter that Romeo is from her rival's house of Montague, that is, that he is named "Montague." The meaning implied here is that it does not matter what something is named; it’s name does not change what it really is. <br />
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After my father passed away last month and we were going through his papers and personal effects, I discovered something I’d never really paid attention to before: my dad was quite the writer. We found journals he’d kept for some years back with calendar entries about what he did that day or what the weather was like. We found notes and tidbits, scribbled verses, words of wisdom, and even whole sermons written out. It’s a treasure trove to be sure.
It so happens that one folder I found, labeled Hebrews Ch. 3, contained one such sermon or lesson. What was his writing about that day? Names and words, their meanings, and why we use certain words to describe certain things as a way of communication. He begins talking about the origin of the word “light” and what it meant in the Greek and Latin. He then moved on to global economics – how he made the connection I’ll never understand. But the message he begins with about why we use particular words to communicate caught my attention, and here’s why: I was asked by my 6 year old granddaughter if she could call me another name besides Ninny.</div>
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Cue the pouting….on my part.
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Say what? No! I’m Ninny – Ninny with the cats (I’ll come back to that) – and I have been ever since that precious little girl was 3 and first acknowledged me by name. That’s what came out, “Ninny, I love you.”
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Cue more pouting…on my part.
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I am Ninny with the cats because my daughter’s adoptive mother is Ninny with Lily (her dog). This was the way Kylee was able to tell us apart when her mom or dad would talk about Ninny coming to visit. Which Ninny? Ninny with the cats or Ninny with Lily? I understand the confusion, but I figured if that’s what she wanted to call me then I was Ninny. And I have never been happier to be a Ninny. The other day when they told Kylee that Ninny was coming over (meaning me), she asked which one and they told her Ninny with the cats. Kylee then got confused somehow and asked her parents if she could ask me if she could call me something else.</div>
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Cue more pouting…on my part.
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She’d decided on Nanny, but I’m no Nanny so we’ll have to come up with another name. But this whole ordeal got me thinking – what is really in a name? Whether she calls me Nanny, Ninny, Mamie, Mimi, MawMaw, grandma, grandmama, hey you, or anything else doesn’t change who or what I am to that amazing little piece of heaven on earth – I’m her grandmother – and forever will be. I could do what my dad liked to do with words and trace the etymology of the word grandmother and see what I get. I might find some interesting root words. </div>
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When I arrived at their house that night I got the usual running leaping hug (which I will sorely miss when she outgrows it) and then she launched into her question of the night: “Ninny, can I call you Nanny or something else?” I should be honored that she wants me to have a name that is different from the other grandmothers in her life. She is blessed to have more than two and she is at the age where she understands we are all different. She knows we all love her and she loves us.
But in the end, it doesn’t really matter what my name is. She is my precious angel and I am beyond blessed with how God has brought that baby into my life. He surely restored what the devil took from me – many more than 10 times over. I have Tyler, her step-brother, to consider now too. He’s got more grandmothers than he knows what to do with. Hey, that’s love right there. So no matter where I end up on the granny name scale, I’ll always know that I am loved whenever I hear that little voice speak up and say, “Ninny, I love you.”
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Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-86781425886361254252014-11-21T23:53:00.000-05:002014-11-21T23:53:36.586-05:00It's a Dad ThingOn November 19 – just this week – my dad passed away. Although he had been sick for some time, no one really knew the extent of his illness and the myriad ways he had tried to ‘cure’ himself. Over the past years, during every visit he would inevitably steer the conversation towards our health, what we eat, what we drink, how to be healthy, how to cure anything, etc. As we have been going through all his papers, I discovered what an amazing researcher he was. He kept notes on everything regarding health. He had (literally) bags full of health magazines, miracle cures, books on positive living and much more. As I read some of the many notes he had written, I was reminded of all the times he had given that same advice I was now reading. And I was struck by a universal truth – the best advice my dad gave me was the lies he told me. It’s a parenting trick that worked wonders for him and helped me become the person I am.
The first lie was the one he told us on a regular basis – that he was fine, his colon and heart were shot, but he was ok. Within this lie was the advice, “I’m the parent and it is not your job to worry about me.” This is a lie told round the world to every child all the time. As parents we do not want our children to worry, nor should we worry others with our tales of woe. When asked how you are, you reply you are fine. You may be hurting. You could be worried about something. But you simply reply that you are ok. Especially when our children ask. I am not as private a person as my parents. I’ve embraced the current age of social media sharing and I consider myself an open book – willing to talk about anything. But there are limits and I embrace those limits more often than I’d care to admit. If I’m not willing to share information to a room crowded with strangers, I don’t share outside my inner circle. In other words, “I’m fine.”
Another lie was that Santa was real. What? Don’t you believe in Santa Claus? I still do! And I still believe because why shouldn’t we believe in magic? Santa Claus embodies all that is good and magical about Christmas. So what if the actual person with flying reindeer doesn’t physically exist. The very thought that that kind of magic is in the world is enough to produce a little bit of hope. One of the many quotes my dad wrote was, “The impossible becomes miraculous when you believe.” I hold this truth born in a lie close to my heart and believe it every day.
One of my favorite lies was in my dad’s favorite word – stickiviness. I know, it’s not a real word, at least not until recently when I heard it on a sitcom. He loved this word and used it often to note that when you start something you have to stick with it, through good and bad, to see any results from your efforts. He applied this concept to everything – work, marriage, chores, commitments – once you start, you don’t stop or you’re a failure. The advice coming from this lie is actually two-fold. Yes, you have to finish out something you commit to, whether it’s for a day, a month or a year. If you commit to do something for a period of time, you finish it. I am loyal to this almost to a fault. The other part of this is that I learned that if you finish a commitment and decide not to continue, that you are not a quitter or a failure. You tried and it didn’t work. Period. It doesn’t matter for what reason. It may be something you didn’t like. It could be a relationship that didn’t work. And this is all okay. I don’t believe in staying in something just because you shouldn’t quit or move on. If what you are doing is not healthy, you need to stop and change course. There is no shame. So yes, loyalty and sticking with something can be good, but only if softened by a little bit of knowing when to say the end.
Every day all around the world, children are learning the lies their parents tell them. We’ve all done it. We’ve all been raised by it. Is it because we can’t handle the truth? I don’t think so. I think we as parents understand how to gently weave life’s lessons into a vast quilt filled with truth and embellishments. Ancient peoples told stories of their ancestors that were passed down through each generation. Each story had a moral to teach the children a lesson. This is how we learned. As we grew up and matured, we saw the truth behind the story, understood and applied the lesson. We also understood why it was told to us the way it was – to help preserve our innocence while infusing us with the lessons we so desperately needed to learn.
So yes, my father wasn’t perfect and I wouldn’t want him to be. He was the perfect dad for me and that’s all I need to know. I will remember his laugh, his stories, his shortcomings, and yes, his lies. For they are some of the greatest truths I will ever know.
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-74348496883207020692014-11-17T08:58:00.003-05:002014-11-17T08:58:50.691-05:00It's an Anniversary Thing - Again
As my husband and I were approaching our 24th wedding anniversary, I was thinking of what I could do to make our day special. I was sure we were going to go to dinner or something like that. We weren’t going to make a big deal of it because our oldest was getting married several weeks before. That was one big party weekend at the beach, so we’d had our trip for now. Plus, we ended up being the hosts for Thanksgiving and were planning a trip at Christmas with our granddaughter. So a trip around now was out of the question. And what could I possibly buy him that I haven’t already? We settled on going to an event at our local civic center, something we’ve been wanting to do for a while, and we’ll probably do dinner. But beyond that, November 17 will be like any other day. We have to work. We have responsibilities.
I also started thinking of what to post to social media on our anniversary. I knew I’d post a link to our song, “I Cross My Heart” by George Strait, but what could I say that hasn’t been said? Then inspiration struck: I’ll post something each day for 24 days leading up to our anniversary. And so, the trending #24daysto24years was born. Oddly enough, the “year 1” post began on our daughter’s wedding date. I became excited about my idea and started making a list of songs and sayings that I’d want to post. Some posts were symbolic, such as, “Year 20: I love you because rather than celebrating our 20th anniversary with a party or trip, you stood solidly by me as cancer tried to break me”. Four years ago, while we were gearing up for our 20th, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had two surgeries that I was recovering from during that month. He stood by and watched, feeling helpless, never knowing how much I really needed him. Other posts were spur of the moment ideas, such as, “Year 4: I love you because you really want to get me some candy corn.” Halloween was that week and I love candy corn. He was willing to scour every store late at night to make sure I got some candy corn. That’s just how he is – willing to do anything and everything.
As I told people about my idea, I discovered it was a conversation starter, mostly along the lines of, “wow, that would be hard to do every day.” That’s when I knew why this specific idea had occurred to me: if we can’t find something we love about our spouse every day, then our marriage needs work. It’s not in the big things they do, but in the way they cut our grapefruit, wash the dishes, pick up milk, or go to a job to keep bills paid. Marriage takes creativity, it takes work, it takes daily devotion, much like a writer or blogger who must come up with a storyline every day. It takes two people knowing everything about another person and loving them anyway. Life is messy and fabulous and horrible and wonderful all at the same time. I won’t lie. There were days it was hard because I was tired or maybe even a little miffed at him for something, or I’d forget till late in the day. But it was always worth it when I posted because it helped me understand all those little things that make a marriage tick. How does a couple stay married for 20, 50, 70 years? They work at it every day, only that’s not as tiring as it sounds. If you believe in something, it’s worth the effort. We need to remember every day - in the mundane, in the aweful, in the wonderful - why two imperfect people decided to join together. And when we do, it's amazing how small our imperfections appear.
I’ve enjoyed using this outlet to spark my creativity and rekindle all the reasons I said ‘I do.’ I’d do it all over again with all the same messy, wonderful, horrible, fabulous results. I hope the next 24 or 48 or forever is just as messy and fabulous.
Here's the entire list:
Year 24: I love you because you love me.
Year 23: I love you because we make a great team...we say the same things, we think the same things, and buy each other the same Christmas present.
Year 22: I love you because if I want a pink lunch bag you search every store to find me the perfect pink lunch bag.
Year 21: I love you because we can be happy in a double wide or a castle, although we both would prefer a mountain cabin.
Year 20: I love you because rather than celebrating our 20th anniversary with a party or trip, you solidly stood by me as cancer tried to break me.
Year 19: I love you because no matter what the future holds you face it with strength and fortitude.
Year 18: I love you because of your passion for life, love, faith, values and us.
Year 17: I love you because you keep the home fires burning when I'm away for work.
Year 16: I love you because family is family and you will do anything for family.
Year 15: I love you because you are the best dad for our girls.
Year 14: I love you because you bring me bacon which is way better than just bringing home the bacon.
Year 13: I love you because we can laugh at silly stories together.
Year 12: I love you because you can grill up some mean bbq.
Year 11: I love you because you wait patiently on me
Year 10: I love you because you want to share the world with me.
Year 9: I love you because you embrace my love for Mickey Coffee and make sure the pantry is always stocked.
Year 8: I love you because you want to go to Alaska which really means you want to take me to Hawaii.
Year 7: I love you because we don’t always agree but we meet in the middle.
Year 6: I love you because you always have my best interests at heart.
Year 5: I love you because you let me be me.
Year 4: I love you because you really want to get me some candy corn.
Year 3: I love you because you make each place we live the best for us.
Year 2: I love you because you think of us in making life choices.
Year 1: I love you because you put a ring on quirky.
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-40850369072908553902014-09-03T21:12:00.003-04:002014-09-03T21:12:32.651-04:00It's a Spirit ThingCancer. It’s a word no one wants to hear, especially if it applies to themselves or someone they love. Breast cancer can be extraordinarily devastating, and even though it affects men, for women it is as emotionally taxing as it is physically. I had battled the cancer beast once before and won. But breast cancer was a whole different beast. Through the process, I learned another word: perseverance.
After my diagnosis of cervical cancer and a subsequent hysterectomy in 2002, I knew I needed to be healthy and that life truly was too short to leave things undone. I joined a local gym and enrolled at FSU. But those years were stressful. My husband was also finishing school and our youngest daughter had been diagnosed with autism. My job took a toll, and after ten years I found myself at a new job, starting all over in an unfamiliar environment.
It took every ounce of perseverance I could muster to stay dedicated to being well. I could come to expect the yearly “Tallahassee crud,” which grew worse each year. I’d put on some weight when I had to quit the gym, and not being an outdoor or sports enthusiast, I struggled to find activities I enjoyed. Luckily for me, my youngest discovered taekwondo. We enrolled her in a summer program in 2008. It was perfect—she could go barefoot, wear soft, loose clothing, and avoid clunky gear. At her first belt testing and ceremony, I was smitten with the way each person was acknowledged for their accomplishments. No first or second places, no MVP’s. Everyone was a winner because they all relied on their training, practice and commitment to move to the next rank.
That fall we took our daughter to compete in a tournament in Pensacola. No matter who you were there for, you cheered for each competitor. It didn’t matter who got gold. Everyone went away with cheers, high-fives, and a medal of some sort. I was sold. So I signed up too. During my first class, I learned words I’d never heard before – choon bi, kyung nae - and I learned to stand in ways I’d never known before, like the front stance, back stance and sitting stance.
Soon, I was learning and growing more confident as my training progressed. Before long, my husband joined, and I became an instructor. In April 2010, I passed the toughest test I thought I’d ever take and became a black belt. I had never thought of myself as an athlete, but here I was. I got to punch things, break things (thankfully, no bones, just boards!), and see the look on people’s faces when they would find out I was not only a black belt, but I was a grandmother. I joined the academy as their first part-time staff member and supplemented my martial arts training with Jazzercise. I was feeling healthy and confident. If I could handle a class of twenty or so 7- and 8-year olds, then workplace meetings were easy! And when the pad you have to strike with a jump-spin-side kick is about eight inches in diameter, you learn another word… focus.
And then it happened. All I had worked for was threatened with two words – breast cancer. I remember the date. The diagnosis. Telling my family. Planning the time away from work. Everything. December 2010 found my body forever changed. I underwent a double mastectomy and reconstruction, a year-long process for which I thought I was unprepared. Little did I know that my taekwondo training had prepared me well for such a test. It had strengthened my chest muscles to support reconstruction, had increased my tolerance to handle pain and adverse situations, and had provided me with a competitive spirit I never had before. My new confidence was no longer tied to how I looked, but by what I knew I was capable of. With the support of my family and friends, I learned the word fight, and I was fighting to win.
During the healing process, each surgery required less and less time off the taekwondo floor, for which I was grateful. There were things I couldn’t do, either temporarily (like sparring) or permanently (like pushups - not that I miss those). And I learned what I could tolerate and what I couldn’t. I loved that I could customize my training to suit my needs at the time, one of my favorite things about this sport. As my surgeries ended, my endurance increased the weight came off, and I gained strength and flexibility. I also racked up a few more bars on my black belt. This October will be 4 years since my diagnosis. August 2015 will present my chance at 4th degree black belt. I’m a wife, mother, grandmother, and a taekwondo and Jazzercise instructor. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. Breast cancer can’t take those things from me.
For every time I didn’t break a board; for every time I didn’t land the kick during sparring; for every time I forgot my form; for every surgery that put me out; for every time cancer tried to break me, I found a new strength to keep going and keep trying. And as much as I still hate the word cancer, these new words I’ve learned have continued to serve me well: perseverance, focus, fight. I didn’t give up, and neither should you. I have an indomitable spirit.
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-13934957920868808732014-07-27T17:45:00.000-04:002014-07-27T17:45:05.818-04:00It's a Sally ThingThere is a good dog named Sally and my Sally girl will soon take her walk over the Rainbow Bridge. My heart is broken and I beat my chest because I cannot reach in and squeeze my heart so it doesn’t hurt anymore. The decision we had to make we probably delayed too long. She’s been sick with tumors for a while, but we hoped - maybe a little selfishly - that she would understand it was her time and let nature do what nature does. But I truly believe Sally felt so loved that she just didn’t want to go. So we had to make that decision for her. She’s a big dog and was only expected to live 7-9 years; she’s 14. She’s had problems with her pancreas since she was about 5, so she has not had dog bones, treats, or any kind of scraps for years. Until last week. We saw a blog about a dog’s last day and decided we’d make it last 2 weeks. She’s had hot dogs, hamburgers, ice cream, treats, bones, pancakes and pretzels - anything and everything a dog shouldn’t eat. Why not? We’ve sat on the porch with her, put up a sign to let the neighbors know, and watched movies with her until late in the night. She has loved the extra attention, and I loved that as a family we understood spending time with her was more important right now. We have loved her and she has loved us. Everyone says it about their dog, and we are no different - Sally is THE best dog we could have ever had for us and our girls. As I sit typing this she’s lying on her bed next to me. I’m on the front porch - it’s late afternoon - and it’s hot. I have a tear-stained face and I doubt it will dry before I finish this. The neighborhood will be a little less noisy with Sally gone. Between her barking and us telling her to knock it off, well, yeah, it’s going to be too quiet.
Sally topped out at 120lbs; she’s a black lab/great dane/golden retriever mutt. And get this..she was the runt of the litter! I always compared her to Clifford, the Big Red Dog. He grows so big because he’s loved so well. I like to think that about Sally. She just kept growing because we loved her well and gave her a great home. A small home, one she quickly grew out of. When the dog is bigger than the kitchen they tend to become outdoor dogs. But she had her moments in the house. School mornings were her favorite because she got to charge in like a bull in a china shop and pounce on the girls to get them up. She loved her walks around the neighborhood. Those days are gone, but I still remember how she’d get all excited when the leash would come out. And she could smile! And when she did, people thought she was going to eat them, but it was her “I’m happy to see you” smile. It could be offputting though if you didn’t know her well. So for some kids around the block that liked to bully her a bit, we kind of let it slide when they thought she was being menacing. She had a big personality to go with her size, even though she let storms and firecrackers put her in a tizzy. Even our neighbors are coming to say goodbye and bring her treats. After all, she's been barking at them for 14 years. I think they'll miss her too.
Sally, the big black dog. The one who helped me put up the cemetery every year at Halloween (and posed for pictures in it!). The one who would chase the lawnmower and the rake, who hated baths and would run from the hose, but would sit in her kiddy pool on hot days. The dog who would tell me which way the girls rode off on their bikes, would tell me when rain was coming, and guaranteed we could never use our back yard. Who even in her last days was going deaf and blind made sure we knew when other dogs were close by. The dog who knew she could chase any cat that came in the yard except the ones that were inside the house, and even befriended the bunny. The dog who helped us decorate our Christmas tree and liked to help us open presents. The dog who would try to squeeze all 120bls of herself between my legs when people would try to pet her - small people anyway. One who loved the beach and rides in the truck.
Sally is one amazing dog. One who's spirit will be with us always and can never be replaced. The love in our hearts will always remain. And we will see her again, smiling at us and waiting to go on a walk once more.
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-52102783517722196612014-05-29T12:52:00.002-04:002014-05-29T12:52:41.195-04:00It's a Story ThingI have a story to tell. The plot is not unique. The characters are not unique. There’s not even a twist or turn that you won’t see coming. But I have a story to tell that is unique. It is unique and completely mine. I may write all of it. Or some of it may be written for me. But no one can tell my story like I can. But how can it be unique if it’s been told before? Others have the same story. Others have the same characters. It’s unique because I have a set of life experiences that are unique to me. But no they aren’t. Others have experienced the same things I have. But they haven’t.
My perception is what makes me unique. The way I’m feeling physically today will affect how I handle a change in a process. The way my brain processes colors will affect how I thought I looked in my new Easter dress when I was 8. How my heart feels when I look at my girls. How my hair feels on my head. What I saw my dad do when I was little skews how I see that same act now. What I heard my mom say growing up taints how I say things now. What my fingertips feel when I pet a dog or cat. What they feel when they run over skin that no longer has feeling. How my foot feels when I’m doing Jazzercise. How I felt when we had to turn a dog over to the shelter when I was young. How my tears felt running down my cheek. Why the color pink either makes me mad or happy. What I was thinking when I received a creative writing award in high school. What I was thinking when I wasn’t chosen for the cheerleading squad. What I was thinking when I was chosen. How chocolate ice cream tasted on a hot day. How it tasted on a cold day. How white the copy paper appears to me. How cluttered or dirty my desk appears. Why I procrastinate. Why I don’t. Why I like pickles and olives but not citrus. The memory of the one time I ate liver. The memory of watching my grandmother brush her hair.
All these and many, many more make me unique. Did you ever watch your grandmother brush her hair? Probably. But how that memory affects what you do, see or hear is different from how it affects me. Do you like pickles? Do you know why? Why does a certain color evoke emotion? And why isn’t it the same for everyone? Because we are all unique. This thought came to mind through the simple act of putting on my brand new glasses. I’ve always worn glasses. My current prescription was 5 years old. I wear contacts most of the time, but had a problem so I went back to my glasses. Couldn’t see well. Got my new ones and voila! I can see! Everything was crisp and bright. My perception had been changed. I no longer felt I was seeing through fog. But that’s only one piece of how I perceive things. Everything in my life has shaped my feelings, emotions, reactions, and much more. It has shaped who I am, or I have purposely shaped who I am through writing my own story. Some things are out of your control. But what you can control is how you react – that’s part of writing your own story.
As graduation season is in full swing, I say to those young and old alike what’s been said before: write your own story. Understand you have a unique point of view that no one else has. The worst thing you can do is plagiarize and try to be like someone else, copying their work. Do your own. Then your chocolate ice cream can taste like anything you want it to.
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-10387302591380499832014-05-22T16:18:00.001-04:002014-05-22T16:18:11.570-04:00It's a Graduation ThingAs graduation time approaches, there will be many speeches, many words of wisdom. Some will go unheeded, I guess most will. And there will be some that take root. As I pass through this phase in my children’s lives, and a first for me – no more in school – I want to say so many things, yet they get lost in all the rhetoric. How can you stress that each decision they now make as young adults (and at 18 legally bound by those decisions) will impact the rest of their life, when ‘the rest of their life’ consists of college parties, spring break and Christmas holidays? How can you help them transition to taking more responsibility for themselves when they still live at home and are still largely dependent on you for support? We all thought middle school was a tough phase. Yet here we have another. They are adults more or less according to the law, but in their minds they have not yet grasped that concept. You as the parent can no longer call and check on their bank account, or make a doctor’s appointment for them, or sign papers for them. Yet they have not developed the capacity to understand how to handle situations now that won’t adversely affect them in the future.
We can teach our children how to wash dishes, do laundry, clean the house, take care of a pet, balance a checkbook, change a tire, drive, save money, and the list goes on. And we should do all these things. But how do you teach them why they should do these things at the time they need doing? Think back to when you were 18 or 20 years old. Did you understand when you should put gas in the car to be safe? You knew how to drive, but did you know why you need to remember to check the oil? You could balance the checkbook, but did you understand why it was supposed to balance? Did you know why you should use hot water on towels and sheets and how often to wash them? And never mind those technical glitches. Did you even think about those things as being important? The answer is no, probably not. Like most young adults, we were so sure we had all the important things covered. We never worried about those things before, why should we now?
Even though I did not grow up in the digital age like my children have, I still find myself mentally looking for a delete or undo button when doing a physical task, like erasing something I’ve written in pencil then blissfully thinking I can click undo and the words will magically reappear. No such luck. There is no undo button when a beloved pet gets sick because they were not taken care of – not through conscious neglectfulness, but through eneral ‘forgetfulness’. There is no delete button to click when an accident occurs because they were texting while driving. They think they are immortal. There’s no unfriend button when someone hurts you that let’s you erase them out of your life. Credit card companies don’t understand “I forgot” when a payment is late. Banks don’t care you didn’t balance your checkbook – your account is still overdrawn. It’s not that they can’t do these things or don’t know about them. It’s that they don’t understand the consequences of adult actions. Mom and dad will take care of it. The pets magically get fed. Dirty clothes magically reappear folded and clean. Cars are magically repaired and always running efficiently. Bills are always paid and bank accounts have money in them. But not anymore. And it’s a shame there is no magic formula for helping them other than to let them stumble around like we did.
Our young adults do not have more challenges than we did, just different – tailored to their generation. We can offer a few gems of advice that may be heeded or not. I love it when I hear my girls say something to a friend that I have drummed into them their whole life – and it works! Success! Only there’s so much more. Our job as parents is to continue to guide them. We may not be able to ground them anymore, but we can certainly be a pillar of steady love and guidance. Sometimes it’s active help that is offered. Other times it’s standing back watching them fall because that’s the only way they’ll learn. And still others is just doing what we know is right and hoping they are watching and learning.
The best advice I can give to any young adult graduating – whether high school, college or middle school – watch and learn, think before you act, and value yourself and others. Know that the adults in your life love you and care about you and are doing everything we can to help you achieve your dreams. But they are just that – your dreams. You have to chase them. You have to do the work. You have to prepare. And you can and will. We believe in you. Congratulations class of 2014.
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-24446394455709402272013-02-20T14:20:00.000-05:002013-02-20T14:20:05.695-05:00It's a Movie Thing<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In 1977 my older brother and I didn’t agree on much, didn’t have much in common. But our dad refused to sit through a movie that I desperately wanted to go to….with my brother. So my dad shuttled us to the theatre, me for the first time, and left us – and many, many more times after that first trip. The draw? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star Wars: Episode IV</i>. My brother and I had something in common. We were both sci-fi fans; him more than me, especially now. He’s the king of sci-fi and anything techy. I admire that in him. I never understood the draw of Dungeons & Dragons, but I remember him being a little excited about teaching me how to play. I tried but I could not get the hang of it. But that one movie cemented us together. If nothing else, on Star Wars we agree.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the 80’s as a typical teen, my mom and I didn’t agree on much. I was a second generation child, meaning I came into being long after my parents had thought they were done with having kids. Our relationship was typical: mom knew best and the teenager thought she knew better. But twice a week mom and I could put aside our differences for a few brief moments. The cement? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Murder She Wrote</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Golden Girls</i>. Oh how Sofia in her infinite wisdom could bring together a mother and daughter as if they had no differences at all in the world. We laughed together. Got excited over upcoming episodes together. Yelled at the screen together when Jessica was in danger and we could see it but she couldn’t. To this day we laugh at those old episodes. Mom still knows best, but the teenager in me has long discovered I will never know better than Mom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the 90’s I was busy with my own growing family. Hauling small children to the movie theatre was difficult at best, but the girls loved Disney movies, as did I. I remember seeing the look on their faces when we would pick up the latest Disney home movie release, complete with a signed lithograph that was then framed and hung in their room. We would spend quiet evenings at home watching a movie just enjoying a few moments of rest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fast forward to today. I’m not one for watching much tv. In fact when I’m out of town on business I rarely turn on the television in the room, even though I’m by myself in the evenings. But there are a few shows I try to catch every week which brings me to the reason for this blog. My daughters and I are not as far apart as my mom and I were when I was their age, but we still have moments when we disagree along with those times when we are all going our different directions. But I found one thing that brings us together. The rope? Right now it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bachelor</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dallas</i> and maybe <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Castle</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Body of Proof</i> is another one. Yes, they are tv shows. Sometimes reality tv shows like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dancing with the Stars</i>. The past few Mondays I’ve realized how nice it was to sit and watch with my daughter. We get caught up in the drama. We laugh at the silly things they do. We bite our nails at the unexpected outcomes and cliff-hangers. We set aside our busy lives for a few brief moments. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some families have game night. Some have dinner together. Others have family day where they turn off the tv and iPods and games and focus on each other. We have tv night. We all gather in the living room and for a small amount of time we are all focused on the same thing. We even get commercial breaks to make sure we address anything like homework or trips or projects. I know this is reading like a PR ad for the entertainment industry. But isn’t that what the entertainment industry set out to do? Early shows and moving pictures were family and town events, meant to draw people together. I’m ok with this. No matter how bad things get, we can always laugh at how Reba says ‘ice’ or how Jim Carrey says, ‘it’s good.’ And it’s certain shows that I know we will be talking about for years to come. In today’s high tech world of iPods, phones, internet, and Facebook – all things that keep people connected but not together - it’s fun to have time doing something that brings us together and offers a common ground. It’s something we can all agree on.</span></div>
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-7054425296633656362013-01-24T13:38:00.000-05:002013-01-24T13:38:25.107-05:00It's a Kid ThingI was talking with a co-worker this morning and the conversation turned to Facebook. He mentioned he didn't have one; wasn't interested. I said that I started out on the social network via MySpace many years back because my oldest had one and I wanted to keep up with her since she didn't live in town. Then my younger daughter created a MySpace and I "friended" her to keep the wolves at bay. I told my co-worker I had but one rule for my children as they navigated the virtual world: imagine that you were in a room full of strangers. If you wouldn't share that photo or tell that story or post that update to those strangers, don't put it on the internet. So far all my girls are successful at this virtual navigation and I am very proud of them. <br />
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This brought to my mind something I had thought about a few weeks ago. Rules for kids. Oh my - touchy subject. There's lots of rules for kids and they run the course of 'anything goes' to boundaries so well defined the poor child can barely move without breaking a rule. I like to think my husband and I have this whole parenting thing down, but I know better. And this was proven when I babysat, alone, for the first time in years this past December....not one child, but 2! I'm a pro, thought I. No problem, said me. And it wasn't, really. But it reminded me of all those little vignettes we say to our children when they are young hoping that at some point the child will catch on and learn that "because I said so" really is a reason, and "I don't care who started it" is a truthful answer. <br />
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The Bible is full of rules and rituals. There are tons of books on rules and boundaries for kids, what they should and should not do or say, plus all those little unwritten rules that your parents raised you by. It could drive a parent crazy trying to figure all that out. So I wanted to debunk a few rules, maybe making it easier to parent a child in these virtual times.<br />
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1) Children are like the internet. Once you say or show something you shouldn't have, it will forever be imbedded in their memory and will pop out at the most inopportune time.<br />
2) Children make messes. Just learn to be a good mess-cleaner-upper. No matter how careful you "make" your children be, a mess will ensue. <br />
3) Children are drawn to breakable objects. I don't care how many non-breakable, child-friendly things are lying around, they will be drawn to the things that can break. Remotes, laptops, phones, knick-knacks....keep the warranty up.<br />
4) Teach your child to be environmentally minded and never let them do their own laundry. If something gets shrunk, re-colored pink, shredded or lost it will be your fault even if you never touched it. Besides, extra laundry loads means extra waste-water flowing into our environment. Love the environment and take the blame because you actually did it. It's easier that way.<br />
5) Never mix pets and children. Well, ok you will, and should, but be prepared. Pets are just furry children. <br />
6) Use every phrase your mother used on you and then complain to your friends how you swore you would never sound like your mother. Truth is, it worked on you.<br />
7) Set boundaries and then watch your children change and eliminate them. Best thing is to stay silent as you watch and then complain to anyone who will listen. This is what mothers have done for centuries.<br />
8) Children do not understand subtleties. Be direct. "Be careful" to a teenager means "Party! But we can't get caught."<br />
9) Learn to "text speak". Yep, use LOL, ICU, KK, TTYL liberally. They might actually understand. <br />
10) Pre-purchase a lifetime supply of good humor, keep on hand, and apply daily. <br />
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Children view their world through Facebook post-colored glasses and will only "like" what they feel is important, such as "Lady Gaga changed her hair color", or "Justin Bieber gets the girl." But really this is no different from kids' viewpoints from 50 years ago. Every girl wanted to know what Elvis was doing but would roll her eyes at mom and dad. The world may change, but how children view it does not. If we can remember what it's like to be that young, we might have a chance at helping our kids steer through this world, just like our parents helped us. Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-44815038521827538932012-12-14T08:47:00.003-05:002012-12-14T08:47:45.323-05:00It's a Birthday Thing<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today is my birthday. I’m two. I was born on December 14, 2010. Impossible you say? If I’m only 2 how am I writing this? Well, aside from the fact that many 2 year olds are way more technologically savvy than I am, let’s just say I was re-born 2 years ago – not spiritually (I’ve been re-born in Christ for most of my life), and not physically (I’m much older than 2; I have shoes older than 2), but more like holistically. The years prior to my re-birth were spent worrying about trivial things, placing my faith in what I could see and touch, and not focusing on what was really important. I was living physically but not holistically.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t have a ‘moment’ or epiphany. It was a gradual re-birthing process initiated by a bout with breast cancer and a subsequent double mastectomy. And in those 2 years I have learned a lot. I am still learning as most 2 year olds do. And I will continue to learn until I am no more. So exactly what have I learned? Well, let’s see.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned to walk all by myself with the assurance that I was not alone. There were things I had to go through by myself, but I didn’t have to be alone. I was surrounded by friends, both new and old, and family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned to share because there was no need for me to keep everything to myself. Whether those things are good or bad, it’s always better to share. Sharing the good means those around you can rejoice with you and give God the glory. Sharing the bad means you have someone to help you carry the load when you cannot do it by yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned to tie my shoes. Not bad for a 2 year old. I also learned to dress myself. After being re-born my limbs and body didn’t cooperate as they tend to do just after a birth. My physical dexterity has greatly increased and I am now able to do those things all by myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned to feed myself. Not just food, but thoughts and words and time spent with family and friends. I learned to feed my soul and mind not just my physical self. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned it is ok to nap once in a while. As much as I like doing stuff all the time, like most 2 year olds, I eventually run out of steam. I used to muster up more energy to keep going. Now I have learned it’s ok to say no and take a nap instead. I’m much happier after sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned that my outward appearance is not what matters. People see me for me. When you look at young children you don’t see their outward physical appearance. You see them for the adorable tot they are. I bet you don’t even notice what they’re wearing. Why? It doesn’t matter. What’s on the inside is what matters and what makes us special. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned to talk. Yes, I could talk up a storm when I was with friends, but amongst a big crowd I liked to stand in the shadows. I learned to speak up not only for myself but for others. If I have an opinion I can share it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned not to be afraid of the dark. Yes, dark is still scary but fear is not the absence of courage. I spent a lot of time sticking my head in the proverbial sand hoping it would all just go away. I learned to face it head on. It’s not so scary when you know you can knock its head off with a well placed kick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe I am braver and stronger than I knew I could be. Sometimes I don’t want to be, but I go as I am called. I love being 2. Here’s to many more birthdays!</span></div>
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-32184624886029750542012-12-11T20:25:00.000-05:002017-12-22T16:48:52.301-05:00It's a Christmas Thing<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">I love Christmas. Halloween is a close second because it heralds the fall season (which is my favorite), but my absolute favorite holiday is Christmas. Well, isn’t it everyone’s favorite? No, but that’s ok. I love Christmas because of what the holiday represents. We use this holiday to celebrate Christ’s birth. I think most of us know that Jesus would most likely have been born closer to spring because that’s when the call for everyone to be taxed went out. I think I also read somewhere that the North Star, the star that guided the shepherds, would not have been visible at this time of year in ancient Bethlehem. And most of us know that Christmas wasn’t Christmas originally. It was a winter solstice/harvest festival with many pagan traditions that was threatened to be ended unless it also incorporated a celebration of the birth of Christ. Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure it’s close to what I’ve read.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I love everything about Christmas: Santa Clause, nativity scenes, lights, decorations, presents, carols, food. There’s something about the season that just seems right and peaceful. It gives you a chance to believe in magic and miracles. I even love Christmas stories like Rudolph and Frosty and Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Clause and all the stories and songs that I’ve read and sung since I was little. When I was young, I put no stock in the fact that Rudolph was bullied and that we really shouldn’t thank God that Santa is coming to town (a line from the song “Here Comes Santa Clause). Or even that when we sing “Feed the World” that we really shouldn’t thank God it’s them instead of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The Rudolph story strikes a different chord with me and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to see the significance behind it. I’m not banning the Rudolph story or calling for someone to change it. I love the song. Love the story. But you have to admit it’s filled with irony. As we have evolved into a world of acceptance for all peoples from all walks of life with many variations of abilities and personalities, I find it funny that in the story Rudolph is only valued by Santa and the others once they realize his “ability” can get them out of a tight spot. In other words, when it was convenient for them, they accepted him. I helped Kellie write a fractured fairy tale some years back and you can read it on my blog. Sammy, the bionic reindeer, ran away when he was ridiculed. He came back thinking everyone had changed their mind but found out they only wanted him around to help them out. He took off and Christmas was never the same. Rudolph could have done the same thing. But then the story wouldn’t be the heartwarming story of forgiveness that it really is. It’s not about his ability to save Christmas; it’s not about the others being sorry for what they’d said. It’s about Rudolph’s heart and his willingness to forgive them. Then again, isn’t that what Christmas is really about? God forgiving us and providing a way out of our sin by sending His son? The story of the cross is the same. Jesus was ridiculed, His abilities mocked. But in the midst of His suffering He chose to forgive. That’s what made Him God’s Son.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">As we head into this season of joy and peace, remember to value each and every person that you come in contact with for who they are and who God made them to be. When you view others through God’s heart you see them differently. Value each other’s abilities. Everyone is different and everyone is special because God made them exactly who they are. Don’t get caught valuing someone only because you need their ability to help you out. Value them because we are all God’s creation. Merry Christmas and have a blessed New Year. </span></div>
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-46602624980458219282012-11-21T21:19:00.001-05:002012-11-21T21:19:08.418-05:00It's a Thanksgiving Thing<div><p>It may be old hat but as Thanksgiving day rolls around yet again we all take a moment to say what we are thankful for. Truth is even when things are rough we have something to be thankful about. If we can complain that means we are breathing, so we have our health. It means we can speak so we have an active mind and our brain is functioning. It means we are low and so only have one way to go....up. </p>
<p>As I sit here and blog from my phone I am thankful for technology that allows me to reach an audience once unreachable. I am also thankful that I cannot hear the tv because my daughter is laughing loudly with her friend in the next room. I am thankful that the dog is whining to come in because it means I will have to move out from my comfort zone and go get her. I will then take the time to wash the dishes from all the food we had, put our clothes in the dryer, and stretch my foot so it can heal better and allow me to do Jazzercise. </p>
<p>At some point over the holiday my house will need cleaning...it means I have a home to keep us safe and dry and healthy. My daughter will have to work...she has a job, a really good job. We will do some shopping and join the masses for Black Friday so I'm thankful that we have the resources to spread a little bit of joy at Christmas. I will get to spend a whole day with my granddaughter which is just the cats meow...so many blessings rolled into that one word....granddaughter. I won't get much done that day that needs to be done but who cares? </p>
<p>After a busy weekend I will venture back to my job which I happen to love. It gives me heartburn one day and chocolate cake the next and some days I want to crawl in a hole. But I don't because I am ever thankful for the rollercoaster ride that is my job.</p>
<p>I will also undertake to continue learning my Jazzercise routines and TKD forms. Not an easy task especially with a heel that won't heal. Am I thankful for that? You bet. Why? Pain means I am working hard. It means I am trying and moving. I am not letting it stop me. It also tells me to rest when my body needs it. </p>
<p>Then it's back to dishes and laundry and animals and cleaning and homework and all the things that go into living each and every day. Thankful? Oh yes. Too many things to be thankful for to list them here.</p>
<p>So as you embark on your Thanksgiving festivities remember to be thankful...thankful that each day holds memories in the making and too many blessings to count. </p>
</div>Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-77005157309691073552012-09-20T10:29:00.000-04:002012-09-20T10:29:54.089-04:00It's a Storm Thing<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had a dream last night. One I don’t remember ever having before, at least not like this. I was at my parent’s house (where most of my dreams take place; their home is embedded deep in my memory bank). I was with 2 of my girls; I can’t remember if my husband was around or not, I think at one point in the dream he was. I remember standing at the back sliding glass door and looking out onto a vast plain – nothing in sight for miles – except the storm brewing off in the distance. The animals – an unruly lot with several cats, the dog, a chicken and an elephant(?) – were not cooperating when we would try to put them in their crates. Not the elephant of course; he just wanted in the house. One set of twisters had already engulfed the house once, ripping off one end. We were safe in an inner room. The storm died down, so we walked outside to let the animals roam. It started raining again, driving wind, and off in the distance here came 2 sets of 4 funnels twirling madly and kicking up dust everywhere! We shoved the cats and chicken in one cage, the dog in another and shuffled them into the house. Of course we couldn’t leave the elephant outside, so in he came too. I distinctly remember leading him by a leash into the house! The storms tore at the house and we huddled close together. I don’t remember much after that. I do know that we survived those terrible twisters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m no dream catcher or interpreter and I don’t put a lot of stock in dreams. As a would-be writer I have a very vivid imagination and can carry on endless fictional conversations between fictional people. But I also try to be observant and use situations as catalysts for a topic to write about. After all, isn’t that what writers do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it didn’t take much thought for me to come to a conclusion about my dream. It may not be a metaphor or forecasting for something in my life, but I do believe the general lesson can be applied to anyone at any time, and it’s this: We all go through storms in life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some storms are mild, just a quiet, rainy evening where a little reflection is all that is needed to make things right and when you wake up in the morning, the sun is shining and the rain is forgotten. The storm is over. Others are more troublesome and require several days of hibernation because it’s just too nasty to be safe out. This storm takes longer to recover from. Debris litters the ground; water soaks the earth and makes plants and flowers droop with heaviness. It takes some time before the sun can warm things up again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then you have your hurricanes and twisters, like the ones in my dream. Everybody seeks shelter from these because the storm doesn’t just affect you. It affects all those around you, even the elephants and chickens. The part that makes these types of storms so monumental is that sometimes we saw the storm coming and did nothing to protect ourselves or our loved ones. That I believe was the “elephant in the room” in my dream. We know that a storm is brewing yet we do nothing to stop it if possible. We hide our faces, cover our heads and pretend it won’t happen. When the storm does hit, it rips off one side of our home and security, and yet all we do is shove cats and chickens into the same cage. We accomplish nothing. When the storm backs up and tries again, it’s then we realize we have to do something different. We address the elephant in the room. We separate the chickens and the cats and make things right again by covering our loved ones. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is when we realize we survived the storm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are we better for it? Did we learn from it? One of my favorite quotes is from Disney’s “The Lion King.” Rafiki has hit Simba on the head with his stick. When Simba cries out in pain, Rafiki’s answer is, “Ah yes the past can hurt. But you can either run from it, or learn from it.” I encourage you to learn from your storms. Some we cannot see coming and there is nothing we can do once they hit. It’s a tornado in the middle of the night. If we survive, it is by the grace of God but that does not mean He doesn’t want us to learn a lesson from it. Some we can see coming. It’s a hurricane and Doppler radar is telling us to take shelter. If we don’t, we had the opportunity and let it pass. Again, God can save us by His grace but He wants us to learn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So learn from your storms. Learn from the experiences around you. Information is your most powerful weapon. Knowledge is key to everything. Listen to your heart and to your dreams. They are telling you something important. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or sometimes they are saying you need an elephant and a pet chicken. </span></div>
Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-52014780225858509322012-07-13T17:49:00.001-04:002012-07-13T17:49:07.226-04:00It's a Purple Thing<div><p>I don't know why the American Cancer Society chose purple as the color to signify a cancer survivor. It's a cool color. I'm sure if I googled its history, the color purple would have a colorful past. It is the color of royalty. It defines richness. It is also a popular color for funky decor. Purple is not even a prime color. It is only a mix of blue and red.</p>
<p>As I was perusing the Atlantic shore this morning I noticed all the beautiful shells washed up by the never ending tide. There, mixed among the brown, orange, white and black shells were not red ones. Not blue. Not pink. Not yellow. But purple. And I thought about the ACS using the color for survivors. I find it inspiring that of all the colors on earth that shells could be, purple is the one non-earth tone among all the others. It really does signify survivorship. The ocean has survived since the dawn of time. It has survived wars, nuclear weapons, famine drought. Nothing will stop the tide from coming and going. Giving and taking. It is home to the largest creatures and the smallest. It will be here long after we are gone. So the word survivor describes the ocean. And I feel safe knowing God chose purple to signify a bright colorful spot among the dark and gloomy depths.</p>
<p>I also noticed that what is precious to some others reject. As Kellie and I were looking for more shells she was fascinated at the conch shell pieces she found. They weren't whole. They were broken and scarred yet you would think she had found gold. While most would reject the broken pieces in search of whole perfect shells she embraced the brokenness of those shells and saw the beauty within. I am convinced she has a heart like God's. And I believe that is what God looks for. He's not searching for the perfect shells. The perfect ones..although there were a few...were only miniscule in comparison to the millions of broken ones. He looks for the broken shells. The worn and tattered ones. It is in these He can do His best work. </p>
<p>So for those who feel less than perfect...fear not. God does not see your brokenness. He sees what you can be. The perfect shell for him to use as His home!</p>
</div>Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0Villano Beach, Villano Beach29.93858 -81.30202tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-82889097570060953532012-05-18T22:31:00.000-04:002012-05-18T22:31:55.711-04:00It's a Mirror ThingThis week I had the pleasure of taking my job to the next level. I attended a state conference of our agencies not just as an attendee but as a presenter. I created and presented one session on my own and co-presented with my supervisor on an all-day training for our agency staff. What a terrific opportunity for me and one that I truly loved. I was put to task not only on my knowledge base at work, but it tasked me to also pull from the confidence I've gained through taekwondo to speak and teach in front of people.
However, it also brought out my inner demon - the one I've struggled with all my life - self consciousness. This inner demon disguises itself as vanity, although that makes it no less palatable for me. As one who is very self conscious and slightly vain, you can only imagine what my "body image" of myself is like. This is going to sound very shallow to you, but if you think long enough I'm betting there will be something about yourself that you discover that sounds just as shallow. I have always thrived, from little on up, to being "cute little Jeannie". I told you it was shallow, but that is how I was addressed as a child and at a mere 2 years old I paraded down the dinner table to the tune of Here She Comes, Ms. America as sung by my dad. I was always "cute little Jeannie". So what did I build my image on? What I could see in the mirror.
As the years go by we all know the mirror is less kind. The glass doesn't change, but the image does. And when something drastic happens that shatters the image in the mirror (accident, surgery, illness, etc.), for someone like me the self-consciousness rises to a new level. In the past year or so I have been struggling to find my vanity. Yes, you heard me right - find it again. Why? Because it's what made me...well, me! It's how I identified myself. I don't need psychoanalyzing. Right or wrong it's what worked for me. If I felt beautiful and fit and outwardly put together it directly affected my confidence level. Taekwondo has replaced some of the vanity. It has given me a new type of confidence that is not tied to how I look on the outside but how strong I feel on the inside. It has helped me through my breast cancer battle, and it has given me the confidence to go further in my work than I ever thought I could.
So here I am at the beginning of this week getting ready for my training sessions and meet and greets with all the people in my network. It was a major task for vain little me to get ready for. I had to make sure I had the right suits, the right shoes, the right jewelry, the right cologne. I made sure to trim my bangs, give myself a mani/pedi and a facial, and make sure my makeup was fit for the occasion. The first night there I wasn't sure who had arrived yet. I dressed up in jeans, a dressy blouse and high heels. My hair was done and makeup immaculate. And here's where that pesky mirror came into play.
As I was heading down to the lobby for the nightly reception I stopped in the elevator bay on my floor. The lighting was soft, not harsh. There were tasteful decorations flanking the 2 elevators, and a full length wall mirror. Oh boy. I turned to the mirror, checked my makeup and hair and noticed something odd. Somehow this mirror had been engineered to elongate the person looking into it. And the lighting along with the mirror gave the effect of being much younger. Here is little old vain me looking in a mirror that seemed to melt away years and pounds! How wonderful! As you can imagine, I struck a pose!
It was then I realized that this little mirror taught me a lesson - you are not who you see when you look in the mirror. For better or for worse, we never really see ourselves as we truly are. All the makeup, all the clothes, all the primping in the world will not change who you really are. You can put any kind of dressing you want on a salad, but if it's spoiled, the dressing will only hide it for a time. Who you are will shine through any dressing. My vanity was tested, especially during my presentations. But I had the joy of being received warmly by my peers who all gave me rave reviews. That is something the dressing couldn't hide. I had to be prepared, confident and knowledgable. The dressing was only that - dressing. We should dress and present ourselves appropriately. But it can never hide who you really are.
That little mirror showed me much more than how I looked on the outside. And I feel fabulous!Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8838303128471065810.post-49396073081061505362012-05-11T13:28:00.000-04:002012-05-11T13:38:13.183-04:00It's a Mom ThingFor Mother's Day (and every day): <br />
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My Mother: <br />
Believes I am beautiful inside and out, even when I’m not. <br />
Holds me up in prayer every day, even when I’m being foolish. <br />
Believes that I am talented and smart, even when I make a low grade. <br />
Protected me from many things, even when I didn’t think I needed protecting. <br />
Is thoughtful and thinks about me all the time, even when I forget to send her a card. <br />
Is grateful for every gift I’ve ever given her, even when it wasn’t something she liked. <br />
Believes in me and all I can accomplish, even when I doubt myself. <br />
Knows more than she ever lets on, even when I think I got her fooled. <br />
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My Mother-In-Law: <br />
Raised my husband to be the man he is, even one I don’t deserve. <br />
Values my opinion, even when I don’t feel like it counts. <br />
Believes I am a good wife for her son, even when I don’t feel like I am. <br />
Believes I am a good mother for her granddaughters, even when I doubt myself. <br />
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Myself as a Mother: <br />
I believe my girls are beautiful inside and out, because they always are. <br />
I hold them up in prayer every day, because God knows their desires.<br />
I believe they are talented and smart, because they are.<br />
I protect them from many things, even when they already feel safe. <br />
I think about them all the time, even though I may not cross their mind. <br />
I am grateful for every gift they have ever given me, because those gifts were perfect. <br />
I believe in them and all they can accomplish, because they need not doubt themselves. <br />
I know more than I’ll ever let on, but I’ll let them believe they fooled me. <br />
I pray they find a man with a mother like my mother-in law, because they deserve one like that.<br />
I value their opinion, because they have much to offer and I can learn from them.<br />
I believe they will be good wives, because I believe in them.<br />
I believe they will be good mothers to my grandchildren, because they are beautiful.<br />
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(c)J.M.Amison 2012Simply Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09606060894744031468noreply@blogger.com0