tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37438371878965152062024-03-12T22:15:09.516-04:00Thoughts from My HeadPoopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-31903824814116213072015-02-25T00:41:00.000-05:002015-02-25T00:41:07.849-05:00Is this really where I wanted to be?<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have to say, I had a major enlightened moment yesterday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stood in my kitchen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Filth on the floor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Days of dishes piled in my sink. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Infant in my arms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know I must have had a peculiar look upon my face, as my oldest son came into the room and asked "What?" I shook my head, with tears in my eyes and said "I didn't think I would be doing this still at 45."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not sure what I wanted to be doing at this point in my life. I have never been good at dreams and fantasizing. I just want to move along and be happy with what I have. I want to love my family and have them love me in return. I want to help others to the best that I can. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, really, I was standing there in the kitchen with my grandson, whom I love dearly and in return shines light in my life. The floor and dishes were dirty because I have been tending to the needs of my family, helping them in any way I know how. So, I was in fact doing what should have made me happy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, I wasn't. I know that somewhere in my mind I want a home that is clean, and that I can maintain that way. I want to be able to cook dinner and make yummy things without having to do dishes that are from days ago. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I may not know how to move toward that goal. I take tiny steps forward, but it seems the steps backward are HUGE. I know routines are best, but my life right now is fluid. The others in my world don't want to be in this environment either. It is clear by their desire to hide in their rooms or disappear to other family members homes. I HEAR people tell me that there SHOULD be more help, and that I am not tough enough. But, I also recognize that I sit and procrastinate as well. Tiny steps.... each one might lead me closer to the answer I seek.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wait just a minute.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://uglyhousephotos.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/140623l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://uglyhousephotos.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/140623l.jpg" height="173" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The internet can occasionally help. I searched "kitchen filth". This photo reminded me of the sink in my first apartment, when I was 18. My sinks do not look that way anymore! Not by a longshot. Nor do I have spider webs dangling over the sink to help with the flies. That was around 25. The dishes, as it turns out, were quickly washed and the counters cleaned in minutes, not hours as I feared standing there. The floor, well that is an endless battle that does require a bit of a 'crucial conversation' with a loved one or two. It is so much easier to keep clean when there is not quite so much stuff not put away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess the HUGE steps were not as big as I thought. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I write now, and a smile is on my face. At 45, I spent the morning with that same infant playing at the kitchen table and singing and laughing and having fun. You can read about that on my blog about how <a href="http://becominggrandmapoopsie.blogspot.com/"> "This Grandma's Got It".</a></span></div>
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Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-76360802885047724742014-08-12T10:52:00.002-04:002014-08-12T10:52:46.369-04:00Let go<div style="text-align: center;">
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I struggled with week with feeling like I was targeted at church. I have been in the past. There was a minister at one point that told lies about me behind my back, and pushed me out of the role I had as a leader of Sunday school. I eventually was able to heal, after other members pushed him out of leadership in our church. One of those people I recently went up against, and it wasn't pretty. I spoke my mind, and I told her what I thought. I have worked hard to regain my confidence. We have a new pastor, she has been with us for about a year. I have found she is friendly with the woman in power, and I let that color me veiw. I have the opportunity to lead in Sunday school again, and I received a call the other night that I took as someone trying to push me out. This time, I was ready to leave my church. </div>
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I prayed. </div>
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I cried. </div>
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I prayed some more. </div>
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I spoke to a limited number of people about my feelings. I reflected on the situation. It was not easy. I began to recall the saying about the enemy working harder against you when you get closer to your calling.</div>
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I wondered if this was happening. I asked God for guidance, and found myself asking the pastor some specific questions to help me in decision making. I prayed some more.</div>
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I decided that I would continue on this path, and make certain changes. I have been a deacon in our church for 3 years, and feel it has been not what I find my calling. Youth and children. That is it. So, last night I spoke to the pastor about this struggle. I told her that I will be stepping down as a deacon. I feel it is best, as I will continue to fight against the leadership of the woman in power there. It will not service my church.</div>
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However, Sunday school leadership, I will take on with a glad heart. </div>
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I had to let go of the old feelings, and ask factual questions. I needed to reflect, and consider the whole picture. I think this is a turn for the good. The pastor validated that. She spoke her mind, and shared how worried she had been. She feels there is a gift I have to share. She is thankful I will be able to do so.</div>
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So, am I.</div>
Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-53738287543966376442014-08-10T17:11:00.003-04:002014-08-10T17:11:51.509-04:00Where we are now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In January 2014, my husband was diagnosed with Early Onset Dementia. The above photo was a family shot, with one addition. (The man on the lower left shares our last name. When he heard "All ------ photo time", he simply joined us.) We had just finished playing/ experiencing a full afternoon of "Darrell's Dugout- GOing to Bat Against Dementia". This was our first annual event to raise funds for the Alzheimer's Association. This event raised over $2000 for the research for this disease.</div>
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A month later, we had family visit from Missouri. This was the first time in our 25 years of marriage that we had the chance for a family photo with my husband's brothers. We added the next generation. Notice the red head in the front. That is my girl. (She had already left when the Dugout photo was taken.) Speaking of next generation, the beautiful blonde with glasses in both photos is our daughter-in-law. She will be adding to our numbers in the next few weeks. Our grandson, Earle, will be here! </div>
<br />Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-87442731692680530852014-08-10T15:32:00.001-04:002014-08-10T15:32:50.631-04:00I don't know why...<div style="text-align: center;">
I randomly decided to read my blog.</div>
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I haven't been here in so long, I wondered what was here, and if it were worth coming back to.</div>
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Facebook takes a lot of my time. But, it is time spent shuffling around in other people's interests, games, and finding words on photos that may or may not mean something to me.</div>
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Instagram is okay. I love to see the photos posted by family far away. But, then there are times when I think, it would be better to avoid. Missing family connections can make it hard to see when others get together for simple pleasures, while I sit in my home longing to find some. </div>
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I remember when this blog began. I had so many things that I needed to work through.Today, I realize that though I have changed over the years, the need to write has not. It might benefit me to write here. I have tried journaling, I have tried other connections. I may not find this works either, but my last post spoke to me about something I am currently struggling with. </div>
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I told Darrell today that I often feel useless. There is so much in my life that needs to be tending to, and I chip away at it. However, it feels that as a pebble is moved, a boulder gets added. Darrell's illness, Bud's aging, my own health, the kids growing and moving, the tightness of finances, the car, the house, the animals. The lists grows continually. </div>
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Now, it is church. The place where one is supposed to find sanctuary, I find turmoil. It seems that I will never be able to find my way there. After over 20 years, I ponder if I should just give up and seek a place that will give the peace I seek. Or, do I continue to try to be the light for others to see by. I am tired. I am sad. I just want out. I don't want to try to maneuver through more changes. But, I don't want to storm off in a temper tantrum. Is there an answer? I don't know. </div>
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Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-29900833069269836832013-01-06T20:58:00.000-05:002013-01-06T20:58:04.304-05:00Considering the last post<div style="text-align: center;">
I have spent time to really reflect on my ways of seeing things in grays.</div>
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I realized that I am the kind of person that desired to see the light in the darkness.</div>
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This means that I would not have stark blackness, as the tiniest bit of light can overcome the blackest night. However, no matter how hard the darkest, blackest night tries, there is no way for it to put out the light.</div>
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Okay, I admit that light can be extinguished, however, I am not being literal. </div>
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<a href="http://toomanythorns.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/candle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://toomanythorns.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/candle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In my spirit there is light. I follow it as often as I can, making the Light shine for those around me to see.</div>
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Today, we celebrated Epiphany in church by writing out the gifts we wish to extend to Christ this coming year. I wanted to hear the reading of the all of gifts presented, but I was not able to.I was sharing in the delight of small children in childcare. I wonder what others presented. I hope that they are as authentic and from the heart as the one I chose. I know that the gift I offered was simple, but sometimes that is best. </div>
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I wish to be able to help the Lord's Light shine through me in my love for others. </div>
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I guess this is like a resolution, but so different. I do not wish to change anything about myself. I do not seek to lose weight, or exercise more, or eat healthy, or read the Bible, attend church, be patient, get on top of organizing, plan my time better at work, find time for quiet activities, clean the basement, and have some fun. </div>
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Well to be truthful, I WANT to do all those things,</div>
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but I am not making any on of them an ultimate goal for the year. </div>
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This gift is to give the best of who I am. as often as possible. Even as a young child, I was someone that sought to make others smile. I have always tried to give of myself, and often have been told I do so too often. However, I learned this week that I must be who I am. And that is someone that will share what they can, with an open willingness that others may not understand. I may be rejected, as I have been so many times in my life, but the rejection is not something that I can take on as a binding to quell the light. I must continue to strive for the bushel basket to be removed .</div>
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When I can do this without fear, I will know that I have not only given of my gift, but also I have accepted it.</div>
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Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-16841801707068098032013-01-04T21:36:00.000-05:002013-01-04T21:36:28.747-05:00seeking perspectiveI often find that I see things as shades of gray. I know this with out a shadow of doubt. To me, there is no black and white. Maybe occasionally on paper, but not in my world.<br />
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I seek perspective. I forget that others see just in stark black and white. It gets me into trouble.<br />
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In my world, there is no little box to place thoughts in here or there. There are hundreds of thousands, millions or billions even, ways to see things. What is one color for you may be another for me.<br />
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How do I move beyond this? I used to be so clear. My thoughts get jumbled, and I cannot easily separate them into simple categories. When I try to simplify, I come off as rude or snappy. My thoughts do not come through. But, when I try to give my thought process, I watch as eyes glaze over or people begin other conversations with others around me.<br />
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It is such a struggle and I hate it. There is no doubt in that.Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-32491865238799792262012-12-31T16:16:00.000-05:002012-12-31T16:16:29.235-05:00TearsIt used to be that I would only cry when I was so angry I could spit.<br />
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Somewhere, along the line, I have allowed myself to let the tears flow when I am hurting or saddened.<br />
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Just thought you should know...Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-13161667395407426382012-12-15T20:37:00.002-05:002012-12-15T20:37:48.431-05:00Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IT6ZVfdpFaw/UM0hwFe_tHI/AAAAAAAABJo/2t-007MpPeg/s1600/523840_10151325085491392_1480574603_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IT6ZVfdpFaw/UM0hwFe_tHI/AAAAAAAABJo/2t-007MpPeg/s320/523840_10151325085491392_1480574603_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">This photo was posted on Facebook in honor of the </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">How does one grieve the loss of their child?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is just no way for me to comprehend this possibility. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The spirit of the child in this photo makes me consider our little ones love for us. Their inner most need for us to see them, feel them, love them. For they cannot live without these things. Their physical being may be fed and clothed, but the spirit within longs for their parents' love and understanding. They not only wish for us to be happy, but their spirit to thrive, they truly need us to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This mother's grief is so evident. She cannot even imagine her child's life being torn away. At least, that is how I imagine her. Hanging her head in sorrow, seeking the love no longer felt. The despair of her world torn to shreds. Our need for our children is as strong as their need for us. With them, we learn to be patient. We strive to show them how wonderful things can be, and the magic of being who we are. We show them the way, and they light our paths.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My heart cries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I long to be reach across the barrier of pain </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and be useful in comforting those in need. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Instead, I will seek joy in reaching for my children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can feel the guilt of being able to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can feel the reality of thankfulness that I can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">May God provide the light for those affected </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">May there be glimpses of hope in their lives, and in their loss. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I cannot share my thoughts well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At least to me, they are insignificant in the aftermath.</span></div>
Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-91523361330757653512012-12-08T23:12:00.001-05:002012-12-08T23:12:25.212-05:00misty gray<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This photo reminded me of my poem of how I see the world in so many shades of gray. </div>
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The lone woman on a journey off the beaten path.</div>
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Following where her heart leads.</div>
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Maybe over that knoll is Joy.</div>
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Maybe she is hearing a call for help, and is bringing Hope.</div>
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Maybe she is walking a path toward Love.</div>
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No matter, there in the misty gray, she is finding Peace.</div>
Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-80176066767083305072012-11-13T07:34:00.000-05:002012-11-13T07:34:12.166-05:00Russets and grays<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="300" src="http://blueridgebluecollargirl.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/late-autumn-leaves-blog.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Late autumn is one of my favorite times of the year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is full of the many intricate shades of russets and grays.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The air is crisp, and clear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The smell of wood stoves in the air.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My favorite holiday around the corner.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This year it reminds me of the many layers we have in life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The ones that we wish to shed, so we can be renewed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The gray lines that appear to be significant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To me, there is hope in the season of fall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We can be renewed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We can hunker down, and hibernate if needed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We can lay down our burdens for awhile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Russets and grays.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Shortened days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Renewal always.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks be to God.</span></div>
Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-46060531824716433942012-11-09T23:03:00.001-05:002012-11-10T20:33:03.486-05:00The old Poor me card.<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="320" src="http://us.cdn3.123rf.com/168nwm/argus456/argus4560811/argus456081100472/3826321-old-playing-card-attached-on-a-wanted-paper.jpg" width="256" /></div>
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I hate to play it.</div>
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I long to play it.</div>
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I am tired.</div>
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I am torn.</div>
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I am frayed.</div>
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But, I still have use. </div>
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I can still win. </div>
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This is the card image I want to recall:</div>
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<img src="http://www.tias.com/stores/javc/pictures/384-07a.jpg" /></div>
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Why?</div>
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It is the old YEAH me card...<br />
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Tiny cards played with tiny hands.</div>
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Winning against the odds.<br />
With the loving support of someone who cared enough to show me the way.<br />
No cheating.<br />
Nothing personal.<br />
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I can work through this.<br />
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Though I am not the little girl I once was,</div>
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I may be able to come out on top of my own attitude.</div>
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No poor me card. </div>
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Get it? </div>
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Good. </div>
Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-19590080640048175762012-11-08T20:10:00.002-05:002012-11-08T20:10:42.939-05:00Frost<div style="text-align: center;">
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<img height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OyECS_oJGfY/TqG6CRQMq-I/AAAAAAAAAbE/yjzw8sowF_s/s400/frosted_leaves.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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First frost of fall is so intricate, so fragile, so life changing.</div>
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It is my image of life at this moment.</div>
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Once we have a deep frost, things are never the same.<br />
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At first glance, frost is deadening.<br />
Anything green turns brown.<br />
The air turns cold, and ice coats the windshield and walkways.<br />
Life begins to fade away.<br />
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There are times when frost touches our hearts.<br />
Children grow and and change.<br />
Family is distant, and longed for.<br />
Husbands suffer illness and pain.<br />
Work becomes tremendously draining.<br />
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<a href="http://raccoonvalleyradio.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/frost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://raccoonvalleyradio.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/frost.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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However, there is beauty in frost.<br />
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The intricate lace tendrils that melt with the touch of a hand.<br />
The pristine awe found in a cup of fresh hot tea made ready by a man that adores you.<br />
The desire to cuddle beneath a quilt or afghan made with love.<br />
The gift of a child's smile when presented with a new handmade hat.<br />
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Frost can mean the death of growth or it can be the means in which we are allowed to grow.<br />
Frost in nature signals to the earth it is time to stop and rejuvenate.<br />
Maybe, it is meant to be the same for our busy self centered lives.<br />
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This week started with my heart feeling as though there was frost so deep it would kill the spark of life in my heart. Then, I stopped to consider the delicate workings of family, friends, and my need to be open and yet thoughtful. I wish to communicate with simple honesty, but it can be taken as frost that kills.<br />
Instead, I searched my soul and chose to be quiet instead.<br />
I spoke with God, and heard His voice melt away the ice that was gripping me.<br />
It melted as if met with a warm cup of tea, and a smile from those I love.<br />
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Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-46317176859962870222012-10-31T20:24:00.000-04:002012-10-31T20:24:05.462-04:00Blossom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cIPXMkcYl_Y/UJG-XOohXLI/AAAAAAAABIg/2hHWxrHV9nc/s1600/319302_4199322779927_2042557327_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cIPXMkcYl_Y/UJG-XOohXLI/AAAAAAAABIg/2hHWxrHV9nc/s320/319302_4199322779927_2042557327_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are times when I feel like a squash blossom. </div>
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They are bright and can offer fruit, but they don't last forever. They go limp and die quickly.</div>
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I wonder at times if the winter in my heart is done. The winter that has lasted for eight long years.</div>
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The joy I used to have in doing things for my loved ones seems to be returning.</div>
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I have cleaned spaces left neglected.</div>
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I have baked muffins on several occasions.</div>
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I folded laundry.</div>
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I did so with willingness, and love.</div>
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Then, there are days when I wonder if I will shrivel up and melt away.</div>
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The tears last Thursday felt like that. They ran hot and pasty down my cheek.</div>
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I feel them on the brink even now. </div>
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There is a difference though. </div>
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The tears are hot, like rain that falls after a long dry spell. </div>
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My heart is not shriveled, but nor is it always fruitful. </div>
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Sort of like a squash blossom. </div>
<br />Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-49286151212052916072012-09-26T20:09:00.001-04:002012-09-26T20:09:39.667-04:00somedayssome days things are fine<br />
other days they are not<br />
which type of day is mine<br />
one that is easy to spot<br />
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<br />Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-6481836060339974342012-08-31T08:00:00.005-04:002012-08-31T08:00:54.178-04:00Swirling <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I get these thoughts swirling in my head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">It happens all the time. I have some right now.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Swirling and twirling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">They dance before me like a whirling leaf. </span></div>
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I cannot seem to ever capture them in a way that stops the confusion.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Swirling and twirling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Dancing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Moving. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Thoughts.</span></div>
Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-56252380113218787982011-03-22T19:33:00.000-04:002011-03-22T19:33:33.503-04:00Thinking about movingNo, I am not going to leave my home behind. I going to move my behind. :o)<br />
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Near where I live there is an agency that provides the community a wide variety of services. Everything from emergency diapers to home visiting to relationship classes to being able to utilize their kitchen to make lunch for your family or play in the playroom with your children. All of this at no cost. AMAZING!!!<br />
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Now, how does that work for me to move my butt? No buts about it, my co-worker asked me (yes I really did laugh out loud) to join her -- are you ready for this?-- dodge ball team. I will be joining her team in a <a href="http://www.madonnaplace.org/events.htm">tournament to support the Madonna Place</a>. Go ahead, click the link. You will be amazed at what there is there. <br />
Meanwhile, I will be amazed that I dared to agree to standing out in public likely in my shorts in order to get hit with a ball. Crazy, but oh so good!Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-83491355488820851612011-03-16T09:19:00.000-04:002011-03-16T09:19:23.253-04:00Reverting to the oldWhen I began this blog, it was about the things I wanted to think about aloud. It was not meant to be a place for my daily life, with family photos and such. It was meant to be a place for me to be vocalizing the thoughts that run through my mind. This is where the blog was meant to be, and wear it is heading again.<br />
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I tend to worry about stuff. A lot. Stuff from my childhood, teen years, and so on. Things like when I broke a glass pan by setting it in cold water after taking it from the oven. I beat myself up over it, though it was almost 30 years ago. This is stuff that I need to let go off. <br />
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In today's life, I have other things I think about. Like why is it that I tune into the television, when I want to sit and read or create? What do I want to create? Why is it that I shut myself off from others? How can I get my butt in gear and do the things I want to?<br />
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I know that these are small in the face of so many other issues. But, for me, I am working to get over them...Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-82636694515698816302011-03-10T20:11:00.002-05:002011-03-10T20:26:17.436-05:00Finding MyselfIn the past few months, I have had a chance to spend time reading, and journaling. I have taken the road toward authenticity, and want to step out of my shell for a moment and publicly reflect.<br /><br />I have found that I was afraid for a long time of using dark colors in my home. Afraid it would become a cave. Recently, I took a chance, and decided to use some warm earth tones in my living room. For the first time, I love to come home and sit in this room. It was a place I would not be comfortable in before. At this moment, it is glowing in the light of candles, and the scents of spiced oil. I am relaxed and calm in a way that I have not been in years, if not my entire life.<br /><br />I laughed with my daughter tonight as she played with ginger ale and blueberries. Instead of a crying match before bed, she had time on her exercise ball, as I lifted the foot stool with my legs to work out a little bit myself. Then, the snack as I emptied the dishwasher, and she has headed to bed. I hear the tick tock of the clock on the wall. And that is all.<br /><br />Maybe no one will read this. Maybe some will. I just wanted to reach out in this moment to say I think I found what I sought a year ago. Maybe most of my life. Quiet reflective moments, in a place that feels warm and wonderful to my inner most being. Plain and simple.<br /><br />No, not plain, rich and monumental. But, simple just the same...Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-42423261483162348362010-07-14T19:27:00.002-04:002010-07-14T19:33:28.314-04:00JournalingI have owned my fair share of journals. It has never been my 'thing'. I just have not found my way of writing out my thoughts and feelings in a way that makes sense. That is until I began blogging.<br /><br />Blogging has been my journal. If I could I would print out each post, the sidebars and the headline. I would cut and paste them into a book, and see where my life has grown over the past two years. I love my blog. It has helped me in many ways.<br /><br />Yet, I have a new desire to try again with the less easy format of writing my thoughts with pen and paper. I have several different books that I have been working through on my Journey. Now, I have journals to match them.<br /><br />Wait, did you see that??<br /><br /><br />Journals.... Journeys....<br /><br />Hope you have enjoyed the thoughts in my head, can't say when I will publish them again....<br />Blessings!Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-31780148088754252682010-07-07T08:46:00.003-04:002010-07-14T19:36:00.703-04:00Looking in the rearview<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXARrRgubYE/TDR3lY5By_I/AAAAAAAABGY/6xKT2YG6wqo/s1600/SDC11490.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491145329891986418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXARrRgubYE/TDR3lY5By_I/AAAAAAAABGY/6xKT2YG6wqo/s400/SDC11490.JPG" /></a><br />How often do we look n the rear view mirror while driving in order to keep safe. A quick glance, "yup, all is well" or "hey, there is an emergency (vehicle), pull over for a second or two, and so it can be dealt with in a timely manner".<br /><br />I wish that life could allow me the review mirror....<br /><br />Instead, years and years go by before I find out about things that I should have taken care of, and quickly. Instead of being able to pull over and let the professionals work, I now can only stand aside and worry if things will be okay.<br /><br />Could I have changed the outcome?<br /><br />Did I pay enough attention?<br /><br />Why did I place trust where it should not have been?<br /><br />These are questions that have no answers. I did my best with what I had then, and am praying for the best for the way things will turn out now.<br /><br /><em>I know that things will be fine, just got that rocking chair a moving is all...</em><br /><em></em>Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-52727107856642319292010-05-15T17:47:00.002-04:002010-05-15T17:52:51.083-04:00Crushing WeightOccasionally, I feel this crushing weight on my body. And I do not mean the almost 300 pounds I carry with me everywhere. :)<br /><br />In my job, I worked with people that are often desperate to have control in their lives. Sometimes, it is a man in need of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">controlling</span> his family, while others it is just regular survival.<br /><br />I feel crushed when I know I have helped a family to achieve <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">their</span> goals, and then have them twist what is done into something untruthful. It is painful, and makes me wonder if I did something wrong. I often realize that I need not take this personally, however. I do not do the work for me or for my benefit. I do not need the thanks, because I was a tool being used to better <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">another's</span> life. When I stop and recall God's control of the situation, that weight is lifted. The yoke is light, unless I pile it with my own worries.....Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-84834786579560447212010-04-25T23:21:00.002-04:002010-04-25T23:29:16.864-04:00LifeIt always seems to catch up to me.<br /><br />Just following my last post, literally with in an hour, I drove my husband to the hospital, where he stayed for several days. He was diagnosed with COPD, which is a lung condition that makes it hard for him to breathe. He is much improved, and for that I am thankful.<br /><br />I am still loving my job. To be able to help others on a daily basis is something that I just thrive on. It is in my spirit to do. My sister, Kathy, preached last Sunday in her church about how God knows who you are, and how it is so important to recognize that in our lives. When God gives us something that we can say "I can do that" we should do it, not think about it. I do my job each day, with out stopping to consider the danger I may face: abusive boyfriends, gangs in the neighborhood, sickness, etc... I just do my job, it is what I was called to do/ be. I do not need to profess to my clients my love of the Lord. They recognize in me something that I cannot express. Thank you, Kathy, for this reminder.<br /><br />Life, it has ups and downs. But, look up and know that we all live beneath the same sheltering arms of the One who created it all.Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-62681516808466093262010-02-02T18:14:00.002-05:002010-02-02T18:18:00.174-05:00Thinking about lifeJust a note for those who wonder.....<br /><br />I think about my life and smile. Why you may wonder...<br /><br /><ul><li>I have a warm home to live in, and most of the time my bills are paid</li><li>I have plenty of food to eat, even when it seems the cupboards are meager</li><li>I have a large and wonderful family to love</li><li>I have a comfortable chair in my room that over looks my backyard, and the bird house my dad made for me</li><li>I have pets to snuggle with</li><li>I just got a 'toothpaste' kiss</li></ul><p>I could go on, but you get the idea...</p>Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-19562824187343799662010-01-26T21:31:00.002-05:002010-01-26T21:39:01.015-05:00Longing<div align="center"><strong>Like the thirst that makes one throat go dry</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>The longing in heart is more than I can bear</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Feeling engulfed in the desert I am abiding in</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>If only I could be able to share</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>I feeling hanging over my head like a cloud</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>To cry will not help, nor shouting aloud</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>But prayer is my refuge and my only release</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>if you are inclined, can you add yours please</strong></div>Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3743837187896515206.post-4266620417670990682010-01-22T19:16:00.003-05:002010-01-22T19:20:02.691-05:00Comforting Thoughts<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXARrRgubYE/S1pAB0PMBeI/AAAAAAAABF4/OI2UCVKfRMA/s1600-h/0112001307.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429722700694947298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXARrRgubYE/S1pAB0PMBeI/AAAAAAAABF4/OI2UCVKfRMA/s200/0112001307.jpg" /></a> Little Kiya was able to be held in her mother's arms this past week. She shows the strength the comes from so many prayers from across the globe. She has even been off the respirator for a brief time. Small gains, but so comforting to know...Poopsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00143223201544964650noreply@blogger.com1