tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55956444074124853942024-03-13T04:38:50.877-05:00just call me B!Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.comBlogger660125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-10094270464858428172019-02-05T19:24:00.000-06:002019-02-05T19:40:49.667-06:00Twenty Years Later: My heart and my grief aren’t a political topic. But sometimes the world turns it into that!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YzDEZvmn5-BAb92Czb4nPCGOY-dwOav-83T_4xyv16vpGRBD_H07t-jyukuaOzgwU8MSv4MfJkzkzJNW35FhiLpWDOApA3pjxGP_Boe9Elo0cohDr3hFF5RGiHFciTxEMlajfD_nxIg/s1600/elijah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YzDEZvmn5-BAb92Czb4nPCGOY-dwOav-83T_4xyv16vpGRBD_H07t-jyukuaOzgwU8MSv4MfJkzkzJNW35FhiLpWDOApA3pjxGP_Boe9Elo0cohDr3hFF5RGiHFciTxEMlajfD_nxIg/s320/elijah.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Twenty years later and my heart is still tender….<br />
<br />
<br />
I rarely ever, hardly ever, almost NEVER talk about politics.<br />
<br />
Basically, I don't.<br />
<br />
I talk about Jesus and Disney and Alabama football and coffee and Target.<br />
I don't blog enough. I wish I took the time to blog more. It's not like I lack words.... but regardless, I do not talk about politics.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
Because I don't care. Not that I don't care about politics, but your vote, doesn't make me love you any less. Your opinion probably won't change mine. That's why I love the good ol' USA, because we were founded on the truth that everyone can have an opinion and they don't all have to be the same.<br />
And that's ok! <i><said an="" and="" best="" get="" in="" my="" opinion="" oprah="" ou="" voice="" you=""><said an="" and="" best="" get="" in="" my="" opinion="" oprah="" ou="" voice="" you=""></said></said></i><br />
<br />
But when you ask me about late-term abortion. I care.<br />
NO. I don't love you any less. Actually, I probably love you more, if I am close enough to you that you have talked to me about your abortion.<br />
Late-term, early on, or somewhere in between - if we have talked about it, I love you. God loves you.<br />
And if we haven't talked about it, I want to. And I love you.<br />
I feel you. I ache with you, for whatever reasons you ache.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>But I have my own truth, too.<br />And that's why I share today.</b></u></span><br />
<br />
I don't tell this story often. And I don't tell it with indifference.<br />
I tell it with tears dripping onto my t-shirt, as I have found myself struggling, yet again, on February 5th. My fingers tremble as I type my emotions.<br />
<br />
Twenty years ago. <br />
{Wait. did you get that. It has been twenty years?}<br />
Twenty years ago, and I can still smell the sterile entry of the hospital room that I found myself in.<br />
I didn't go there with joy. I didn't go there with a "bring the baby home from the hospital" bag in tow.<br />
No. I went there scared out of my mind. And aching. My bones hurt with grief.<br />
<br />
I had just been told that my sweet Elijah was no longer living. His heart had stopped. His chord had clamped and his life in the womb came to an abrupt, unexpected stop. The little guy that I had nurtured and rocked and massaged and watched play endless soccer games in my belly was already in the presence of the Lord.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
No.<br />
Stop.<br />
I can't.<br />
I won't.<br />
Oh my gosh. How? How will I? <br />
Why?<br />
<br />
What do I do? <br />
You see I had never delivered a completely healthy baby (that in fact, wasn't healthy and wasn't living).<br />
And honestly, I had never known anyone that had.<br />
What do we do? What happens next?<br />
<br />
The sweet nurse explained to me that we had two options:<br />
1. We could have his funeral. [WHATTTT? Twenty-something-year-old-mothers don't plan funerals.]<br />
The shocking reality? Yes. Yes, they do.<br />
<br />
2. The more common practice, and probably the "easiest on Mom and Dad,” she said "We will dispose of him and take care of that for you. Then you will be discharged, to go home and recover.”<br />
<br />
Oh, wait. I am sorry. I don't know what you mean.<br />
Wait. <br />
"Take care of that?” What does that mean? <br />
No. Are you kidding? <br />
What are you going to do with my son? <br />
<br />
That would be a “no.”<br />
We will move forward with a funeral.<br />
And we did. <br />
<br />
My parents and Scott's parents handled most all of those details. I was in no shape to make decisions about little tiny caskets and flowers and such. <br />
Bless their sweet souls for taking over and being the hands and feet of Jesus, and for serving us so well during those days, when I know they were grieving too.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>So, what in the world does this have to do with abortion?</b></u></span><br />
<br />
Here's where my heart is on this.<br />
And this is the part that is even hard to share and difficult to admit.<br />
But it is the soul-crushing truth.<br />
<br />
The nurse came in and explained how the day would go:<br />
<br />
I would labor. I would have pain. I would labor. I would have pain.<br />
The day would drag on, and the hours would be long.<br />
And the clock would tick slower than usual.<br />
<br />
But when the time came, I would deliver sweet Elijah. And then they would take him for observation and to determine just exactly what would have caused his death (unknown at the time, later to be discovered the clamping of his chord).<br />
Then, they would take him and prepare him for the funeral home.<br />
<br />
Ok.<br />
That's fine.<br />
I don't want to see him.<br />
I don't want to hold him.<br />
I don't handle death well, on a good day. I know my limits. So, this is NOT a death that I will be able to see and hold. <br />
I can't. And I won't. But thank you. <br />
Y'all take care of him and I will be fine.<br />
<br />
Scott said, "I do. And I will." <br />
And that was fine with me.<br />
We agreed that our grief and our process would be different and I knew that my heart couldn't take seeing him, not alive.<br />
<br />
So, we agreed.<br />
The clock ticked.<br />
The pain increased.<br />
The reality that I was delivering a life, that wasn't living, was setting in on me, and honestly, today, 20 years later, it's by the Grace of the merciful hand of God that I made it through that day.<br />
My heart was broken. I can't articulate the grief. I can't articulate what I felt like my body was being asked to do.<br />
<br />
But, we did. God did. Scott did. Elijah did. <br />
He was born.<br />
My doctor was so tender. <br />
She said "Oh my. He's beautiful. Mom, you were strong. You did a good job.”<br />
<br />
But what I need for you to visualize is this:<br />
The doctor was at the foot of the bed, and just before she delivered, she reached above her head and she grabbed a GIANT light from overhead. It was a dome shaped light that was bright and blinding. It was sharp enough to make you look away, because the piercing light was too much to stand.<br />
<br />
But look away, I did not.<br />
All of a sudden, as Elijah was being welcomed into this world, I could see his reflection.<br />
I could see my son.<br />
I could see his legs.<br />
His feet.<br />
His arms.<br />
His life. That wasn't there.<br />
<br />
In every ounce of strength I had remaining, I thrust my arms forward and said, "Please let me hold him," and she hesitated for just a moment, and gave me an “Are you sure?" look. She knew I was sure.<br />
<br />
And hold him, I did. The son<b> <u>I did not want to hold.</u></b><u> </u>The body<b> <u>I did not want to embrace.</u> </b>The little tiny toes <u><b>I did not want to count.</b></u> All of a sudden, the desire to connect with him was heavier than I can explain.<br />
<br />
Oh my heart. Oh my soul.<br />
If I could have opened my mouth and breathed life into his nostrils, I would have given my last breath, just to watch him take one.<br />
<br />
I would still love to do that today. The vision of twenty years ago is like it was just this morning.<br />
<br />
I said out loud to him over and over, "Just breathe. Just take one breath." If I could have just seen his chest pound. JUST.ONE.TIME. His delicate little self. I loved him so. He never took a breath. He didn't have to. I loved him as if he had taken a thousand.<br />
<br />
I still ache at the thought that my body wasn't strong enough for him. Or I didn't protect him enough. Or going skin to skin couldn't save him. Or I … Or I … Or I …<br />
<br />
But God.<br />
<br />
We grieved. We cried.<br />
We ached. We hurt.<br />
We buried. <br />
<br />
But God.<br />
<br />
We were loved so well. We were served. We were encouraged. We were held.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>My point?</b></u></span><br />
<br />
I believe when you get to the point of "late-term abortion" you are at a point where life exists. The body is full. The connection is there.<br />
I know this full well. I saw him. I carried him. I delivered him. I held him. I buried him.<br />
<br />
And I know that the mom is hurting, and I know that the mom has grief. And I know that the mom may not want the baby.<br />
<br />
I get it. I feel you. I hear you.<br />
<br />
But please give life a chance. And then on delivery date, if you still feel the same way, then let's move forward with the adoption process and give another family a chance to love that life. And if you and I are close enough that we can talk about this, call me. Let me love you through this part. Let me be there for you. Let me listen. And if we aren’t “close enough," let’s change that. And let me be there for you. I may not be able to offer a solid solution or take the pain away, but I can hold a hand and I can help you set up an appointment with a counselor or I can help connect you with adoption services. I don’t know what all of that looks like for you, but I am willing to try. And if none of that speaks to you, please know that if you have read this far, I have prayed for you multiple times already. Earnestly and honestly.<br />
<br />
I don't judge. I don't hate. I don't attack. <br />
I ache. I hurt. I feel. And I love. And God loves. And He has carried me for twenty years.<br />
He has redeemed my story. He has enriched our lives. He has shown us a thousand times over how Elijah's death has been used to reach, love, minister and help others.<br />
<br />
It's the part of my story that is so super tender. It's the part that I don't talk about in a public setting, because there will be tears streaming down my face, and mascara ruined, in about point 2 seconds! But it's also the story that He trusted me with. <br />
<br />
It's a story of life and of death. And I choose daily not to stay in the death, but to walk in the life.<br />
<br />
I rambled today. I know it. But I needed to. I needed to share this story today and I won't apologize for doing so. If I offended you, then I apologize for offending you. That isn't my heart and is not my intention. My heart is heavy today. And my desire for life is strong. <br />
<br />
Because I know God is a God of creating life, and I also know He's a God of redeeming stories. Even twenty years later, it is well with my soul. (But I still cry about it.)<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-90969436323244103292019-01-01T17:11:00.003-06:002019-01-01T17:11:53.209-06:00A promise of hope for 2019<div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" data-ad-preview="message" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_4">
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<br />
<br />
This scale is moving me into 2019 with a hope and a promise. <br />
It seems silly. I know. A scale. <br /> But. I had it in my heart that I wanted a cute scale for my new kitchen. Whenever and where ever that may be. <br /> Really. Any scale will do. Something cute. Maybe vintage. Something with a story. <br />
I looked at vintage spots, and flea malls. And clearly. Everyone else
wants a scale too. Because they are trendy--and pricey--right now. <br /> So. I haven't bought one. I've just dreamed of them on Pinterest and other little spots. <br /> I figured when I found the right one, I'd know it. <br />
And then. Hearth and Hand released this little cutie. He was only $14.99. <br /> But again. A frivolous purchase. And just before Christmas? Nah. I'll wait. <br />
But every time I saw it, my heart did a little jump. <br />
Anyways. Yesterday I went to Target. A few groceries and a few post-Christmas clearance buys. <br /> And on the way to the register. I saw it again. <br /> So I thought. If it's on sale, I'll get it. <br /> Again. I know. It's only $14.99. But I won't buy it at full price. I don't NEED it. <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/attemptatdiscipline?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">AttemptAtDiscipline</span></span></a><br />
I passed one of the scanners. And of course. It was broken. <br />
Anyways. When I got to the register, I asked the cashier to tell me how much it was before I bought it. <br />
$1.49. <br /> One. Dollar. And. Forty. Nine. Cents. <br />
I literally squealed. And I squealed OUT LOUD "God knows the desires of
my heart" and I had a Jesus moment with her. As I said "you have no
idea how much I wanted it to be on sale" and she replied "if it's your
blessing, He will give it to you!! You acted on faith just bringing it
up here!"<br />
What?! <br /> I was in full on JOY mode all day! <br />
Such a small thing. I know. <br />
But to me. It was huge. It was a great end of a year that hasn't quite
brought me those desires of my heart. But it was a reminder of the
promise still to come. <br />
He has purposed these things in my heart. And when His time is now, so it will be!<br />
Praise God for such a tiny item, to bring a strong word to my spirit! <br />
"delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart" Psalms 37:4<br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/praisehimallthedays?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">PraiseHimAllTheDays</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/joy?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">Joy</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/histimingisalwaysperfect?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">HisTimingIsAlwaysPerfect</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/hopeinthingsnotyetseen?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">HopeInThingsNotYetSeen</span></span></a></div>
<br />
This scale is moving me into 2019 with a hope and a promise. <br />
It seems silly. I know. A scale. <br /> But. I had it in my heart that I wanted a cute scale for my new kitchen. Whenever and where ever that may be. <br /> Really. Any scale will do. Something cute. Maybe vintage. Something with a story. <br />
I looked at vintage spots, and flea malls. And clearly. Everyone else
wants a scale too. Because they are trendy--and pricey--right now. <br /> So. I haven't bought one. I've just dreamed of them on Pinterest and other little spots. <br /> I figured when I found the right one, I'd know it. <br />
And then. Hearth and Hand released this little cutie. He was only $14.99. <br /> But again. A frivolous purchase. And just before Christmas? Nah. I'll wait. <br />
But every time I saw it, my heart did a little jump. <br />
Anyways. Yesterday I went to Target. A few groceries and a few post-Christmas clearance buys. <br /> And on the way to the register. I saw it again. <br /> So I thought. If it's on sale, I'll get it. <br /> Again. I know. It's only $14.99. But I won't buy it at full price. I don't NEED it. <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/attemptatdiscipline?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">AttemptAtDiscipline</span></span></a><br />
I passed one of the scanners. And of course. It was broken. <br />
Anyways. When I got to the register, I asked the cashier to tell me how much it was before I bought it. <br />
$1.49. <br /> One. Dollar. And. Forty. Nine. Cents. <br />
I literally squealed. And I squealed OUT LOUD "God knows the desires of
my heart" and I had a Jesus moment with her. As I said "you have no
idea how much I wanted it to be on sale" and she replied "if it's your
blessing, He will give it to you!! You acted on faith just bringing it
up here!"<br />
What?! <br /> I was in full on JOY mode all day! <br />
Such a small thing. I know. <br />
But to me. It was huge. It was a great end of a year that hasn't quite
brought me those desires of my heart. But it was a reminder of the
promise still to come. <br />
He has purposed these things in my heart. And when His time is now, so it will be!<br />
Praise God for such a tiny item, to bring a strong word to my spirit! <br />
"delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart" Psalms 37:4<br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/praisehimallthedays?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">PraiseHimAllTheDays</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/joy?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">Joy</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/histimingisalwaysperfect?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">HisTimingIsAlwaysPerfect</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/hopeinthingsnotyetseen?source=feed_text&epa=HASHTAG"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">HopeInThingsNotYetSeen</span></span></a><br />
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http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-75826657240867385152017-02-08T18:41:00.001-06:002017-02-08T18:41:12.330-06:00Celebrating 22 years!<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdYIwc9-3s5QpKIg8Gf7sNVIMz8-UGyVtEH5XqHWlBtIbg0y1pKWcW7js2-Fvbe26LhhvVeDYzGjsocQPCeFRFsWXdrD9WZAx6-IinLqefYkF256AE5VLi7KsXe9U1ymgKmHM7ZzEAVs/s640/blogger-image--950837647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdYIwc9-3s5QpKIg8Gf7sNVIMz8-UGyVtEH5XqHWlBtIbg0y1pKWcW7js2-Fvbe26LhhvVeDYzGjsocQPCeFRFsWXdrD9WZAx6-IinLqefYkF256AE5VLi7KsXe9U1ymgKmHM7ZzEAVs/s640/blogger-image--950837647.jpg"></a></div>Today, we celebrate this guy! It's his Coke-a-versary! </div><div>When we started dating, he was a "route guy" and he spent many weekends on call, so lots of our dates included a quick delivery here or there! I didn't mind. </div><div>Chapman was born in such a hurry, he came straight from work and is wearing his Coke uniform in the hospital pictures. </div><div>Still today, when we go in a store, he "fronts the drinks" in the cooler by the cash register, or he straightens a display that has been shopped over. </div><div>He's hard working, loves his company, and the best Director of Operational Marketing there is! </div><div>Coke is our family. And we are thankful. And they've got a good one in him!! </div><div>#22Years #Charming #CokeMan ❤️ <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-48548687016746755402017-02-01T21:27:00.001-06:002017-02-01T21:27:25.138-06:002 virtuous women<span style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4S9w-FVJcVELdzOjPuTucLsPYZMwdAwBLLIPYCDl0qidWIyWsbbzrYqcG7NgdtJZN71R_-sCBOIC-CR0XrnSUaRh80N1w5LtyhKw5XUfUDtuoGDHDrI1I-NSygGpw-p7bwHH1MzgDhU/s640/blogger-image-609550592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4S9w-FVJcVELdzOjPuTucLsPYZMwdAwBLLIPYCDl0qidWIyWsbbzrYqcG7NgdtJZN71R_-sCBOIC-CR0XrnSUaRh80N1w5LtyhKw5XUfUDtuoGDHDrI1I-NSygGpw-p7bwHH1MzgDhU/s640/blogger-image-609550592.jpg"></a></div>Today I attended 2 funerals.</span><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">One this morning. One tonight. 2 very Godly women that I loved and admired. For their faith, their family values, and their serving, unselfish heart. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Each funeral allowed time for hugging and chatting with old friends, seeing family members that we rarely see. And all of these things were good. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">At the end of the day....it leaves me thinking of "the end of my day". I can only hope I'm a portion of the person these women were. I pray that my faith radiates and draws others to Christ. Oh, if only my children will rise up and call me blessed. And if my days were full of giving to others, in whatever way God would have me give. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My Aunt Joyce and Mrs Carolyn will both be truly missed. We are all better people because we knew them. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#VirtuousWomanCanBeAchieved</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#BecauseTheyShowedMe</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#goals<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-41220515194054695182016-12-04T22:04:00.000-06:002016-12-04T22:04:10.221-06:00My rights as a parentToday...my heart is heavy for a friend I love...and while this isn't something that I am currently battling with as a parent...but it is something that I know I will face again and again.<br />
<br />
the hard line between loving & guiding our children. when it gets hard.<br />
---------- <br />
<br />
So...here goes.<br />
<br />
If one of my boys had a friend that I knew was struggling with a meth addiction....I would not "allow" them to hang out.<br />
<br />
If one of my boys was dating a girl that had been labeled as "that girl"....they would not be "allowed" to date.<br />
<br />
I put the quotes around "allowed" because I am not dumb enough to think that kids that drive don't have their own free will. They totally do.<br />
<br />
But you see, by me offering the boundaries, I also set them up to make a decision.<br />
Do they defy our rules in our household?<br />
Or do they step outside of those and go their own way?<br />
<br />
Now.....everyone that is a parent of any age....also knows that "going our own way" has risks, and consequences, and more importantly, life lessons.<br />
<br />
While I would love to spare my kids from a few hard life lessons, I can't be a helicopter mom and control their every move.<br />
<br />
-------<br />
I digress.<br />
-------<br />
So, this brings me (us) to my (our) right as a parent.<br />
While you live here, and I provide you with all of the necessities of life (yeah, like your iPhone...duh!)....then you grant me the rights to continue to parent you.<br />
<br />
And that means it is ok for you to hate me, because you are grounded.<br />
I know.<br />
That sucks.<br />
But you are grounded.<br />
<br />
Believe it or not....I am helping you make some decisions that you can't yet make for yourself.<br />
<br />
I am.<br />
Because I love you.<br />
<br />
And I call sin, sin.<br />
Because I love you.<br />
<br />
And God calls me to the mat on things.<br />
Because He loves me.<br />
<br />
But never once ever---not once. NEVER. does He discard me. Or disown me. Or stiff-arm me.<br />
<br />
Nope. He loves me.<br />
He has the right to discard me. and disown me.<br />
Yes, He does, because of the way I act sometimes.<br />
<br />
And, so in turn...I as a parent, should extend that same grace.<br />
<br />
Love. with boundaries and guidance. But Love.<br />
<br />
The key is that it always begins and ends with love.<br />
<br />
But, dang it, why does parenting have to be so hard!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-79030279577936157572016-09-28T15:20:00.001-05:002016-09-28T15:20:13.810-05:00HealingA text from my chiropractor /wellness Doctor today: <div><br></div><div>Patience is required as body heals... consider it more of a windy road of a traveling plan rather than an exact destination to reach. 😊</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-76815080591996323802016-09-17T19:02:00.001-05:002016-09-17T19:02:02.425-05:00Life is like an Alabama vs Ole Miss game<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizc8VkX5Q2GM5TvoDrjdoVGwO8Tnc7K1X9W23MHCZtDyVrXQVcVsUy0mSzNqgU57uzngSE18qATQ5y_L0bzCO_fgUrNg1DsVhdhEVcBut5pLcIEh22casdcutRNkl634TteMOp6SivEYA/s640/blogger-image--56020201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizc8VkX5Q2GM5TvoDrjdoVGwO8Tnc7K1X9W23MHCZtDyVrXQVcVsUy0mSzNqgU57uzngSE18qATQ5y_L0bzCO_fgUrNg1DsVhdhEVcBut5pLcIEh22casdcutRNkl634TteMOp6SivEYA/s640/blogger-image--56020201.jpg"></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-84339392649913476172016-08-29T18:38:00.001-05:002016-08-31T17:15:06.222-05:00Depth chart, Football and JesusI love Coach Saban.<br />
<div>
We know this. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But today in his presser, he yet again gives the media another reason to love to hate him. </div>
<div>
Or maybe they hate to love him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://t.co/GELq5kah9K">https://t.co/GELq5kah9K</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But when it comes to the topic of the depth chart. It's the perfect setup!!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And isn't that much how we are. </div>
<div>
It used to be that I <insert your name here> loved myself. Or I didn't doubt myself. Or I was a dreamer. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But then the world created their version of me. And tried to write it on the wall and declare that is who I am. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Plot twist: </div>
<div>
<b><i><u>Your depth chart (opinion) of me doesn't count.</u></i></b> </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm currently deep in the middle of Lysa Terkeurst's book "uninvited" and this is speaking right to my soul. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then Coach Saban confirmed :)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Roll Tide, y'all! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-8760276479623178862016-08-25T10:03:00.001-05:002016-08-25T10:03:46.377-05:00Steady handsThis week during prayer, the story of Moses was told like I've never heard before. <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3ZlbtfKPd6N6up4CH1Y9kRGQEIzc4zk9RCPmjYadWo_rifmEJ4chVt5C33ysToYAko79mOayM6OHaYFhbqu0TpnXXabT4wv_DQfqDiHTfAFUilFxx6yvmewqdrec6eGFokmUzgYc32Y/s640/blogger-image--1237420742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3ZlbtfKPd6N6up4CH1Y9kRGQEIzc4zk9RCPmjYadWo_rifmEJ4chVt5C33ysToYAko79mOayM6OHaYFhbqu0TpnXXabT4wv_DQfqDiHTfAFUilFxx6yvmewqdrec6eGFokmUzgYc32Y/s640/blogger-image--1237420742.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Or maybe I had. But it resonated with me. In a whole new way. </div><div><br></div><div>I'll admit I'm not super Bible-savvy, but I love when an "old story" has a new meaning. </div><div><br></div><div>So it's in Exodus. And it goes a little something like this. Moses had the staff of God in his hand. When he would raise his Hand, Israel prevailed. But when he lowered it..well, Amalek did. </div><div><br></div><div>So the point here was that Moses needed to keep his hands held high until the battle was won. </div><div><br></div><div>I myself am a "hand raiser". </div><div>I'm a praise-the-Lord-raise-my hands-in-church girl. I sing. (Off key). I sway. </div><div>Whatever. I praise. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><b><u>But. What about the times when it's hard to praise. What about the times when it's you're broken. And your praise is weary.</u></b> </div><div><br></div><div>That's when you need an Aaron and a Hur. One on your right. One on your left. </div><div>And they say "hey girl. You stay there. I'll hold my hands up FOR you. I'll hold YOUR hands up for you. I'll praise for you until the battle is won. Or until you're strong enough to praise again!"</div><div><br></div><div>Recently, I had a similar instance. I had just had surgery a few days prior and everything was a struggle. Everything that we take for granted. </div><div><br></div><div>I was home alone. </div><div>And felt like I could *finally* shower. Not be rushed. And go slow. At my own pace. Before my people came home. </div><div><br></div><div>I did.slowly. </div><div>Success. </div><div>I was dressed. And I was feeling accomplished. </div><div><br></div><div>And I had not thought any further than that. </div><div><br></div><div>When a friend came to the back door. </div><div>(That kind of friend that knows she doesn't really have to knock) </div><div>And I said "oh my gosh. Will you please dry my hair."</div><div><br></div><div>And she did. </div><div>And we chatted. And she left. </div><div>She literally had just come by. Un-announced. To check on me. </div><div>AND TO HOLD UP MY HAND. </div><div><br></div><div>I can't ever be thankful enough. </div><div>And such a great solid reminder in God's word. </div><div>We need each other. </div><div><br></div><div>Be an Aaron. Or a Hur. </div><div>Because one day, you may need one yourself. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-31295410619046077422016-08-24T21:00:00.000-05:002016-08-25T10:06:56.895-05:00Deodorant in the fridgeThere are times when I really think I have this boy-mom thing under control. <br /> And then I open the fridge. And there's someone's deodorant. <br /> I can't even ask questions. <br /> I just leave it there. Right by the sour cream. <br /> Old Spice Swagger and a dollop of Daisy. <br /> Whatever it takes. <br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/boymom?source=feed_text&story_id=10209940858699365"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">BoyMom</span></span></a><br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/expecttheunexpected?source=feed_text&story_id=10209940858699365"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">ExpectTheUnexpected</span></span></a><br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/blesstheirwives?source=feed_text&story_id=10209940858699365"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">BlessTheirWives</span></span></a><br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/itried?source=feed_text&story_id=10209940858699365"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">ITried</span></span></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-63028313562664710852016-08-19T21:57:00.001-05:002016-08-19T21:57:06.817-05:00Pressing thru walls<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGUcNPB5RkKrtziNowK0pXdyxCTEMJvrt_dp-xrlebIfDIyu6rkB4NElT_nCRMlkYnUqx7A3dVDuSz5EzuXsJ6K3SjuvHqZIsrssJPJDBqKJags-blI8rvSYDBqmGFuPqYgWuusi-CBo/s640/blogger-image--2130183672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGUcNPB5RkKrtziNowK0pXdyxCTEMJvrt_dp-xrlebIfDIyu6rkB4NElT_nCRMlkYnUqx7A3dVDuSz5EzuXsJ6K3SjuvHqZIsrssJPJDBqKJags-blI8rvSYDBqmGFuPqYgWuusi-CBo/s640/blogger-image--2130183672.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Tonight I lay my head down. </div><div><br></div><div>It's been a rough 7 days. </div><div>-I can't compare myself to someone battling cancer, or someone who has lost everything they own in the Louisiana floodings, but keeping it all relative, it's been a rough week. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm thankful for my sweet friends that have prayed me thru, fed my people, spoke words of life into me every single day and filled in the gaps. I'm thankful for my mother that answered endless upon endless questions, even after working 12's herself. </div><div>Where my heart is full, my flesh is weak. </div><div>God has revealed a journey of healing for my body. It's an amazing story. Seriously...it will be!!! It's gonna kinda suck for a little while...And it's not lovely, but I know "the path that I take, and when He is finished with me I will be pure as Gold". </div><div>His word tells me so. </div><div><br></div><div>As shocking as it seems...I'm a pretty private person. I'm thankful for my friends that have pressed thru walls this week. I needed you. And I would've never asked. (I hate that about myself). But You showed up. Thank you. ❤️❤️ </div><div><br></div><div>And I wasn't going to share, but God kept driving home this verse tonight. So I'll go ahead and share, so I can finally sleep :) </div><div>His plan is ALWAYS PERFECT. </div><div>His timing is ALWAYS PERFECT. </div><div>It's taken me 3 years. <I'm a stubborn subject></div><div><br></div><div>"And even if He does not....He is still a good God." Daniel 3:18 </div><div><br></div><div>Goodnight. </div><div>I just wanna go to prayer tomorrow. That is all. #BabySteps</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-66296081811799709362016-06-16T11:03:00.002-05:002016-06-16T11:03:50.655-05:00Disney. Alligator. Grief. Unfriend.This was my facebook post for today.<br />
It comes straight from my heart:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKXBR8z-QMvLZOK8HkPdP_ejZitzh4fae4D6P9q1pwdZiXQ4Q2R3HHtDrGPwqoqCEGerTFvusA2PrN3fhWsZ9DAUfHaDYeF4RkIdQzXqoGB1MDQQIzVYd4JmeZ7vpbiGH3nGUlNT0z8E/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-06-16+at+11.02.13+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKXBR8z-QMvLZOK8HkPdP_ejZitzh4fae4D6P9q1pwdZiXQ4Q2R3HHtDrGPwqoqCEGerTFvusA2PrN3fhWsZ9DAUfHaDYeF4RkIdQzXqoGB1MDQQIzVYd4JmeZ7vpbiGH3nGUlNT0z8E/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-06-16+at+11.02.13+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I'm not big on "unfriending" for trivial stuff. <br /> I don't mind if
you rant about politics. I don't care how you feel about gun control or
not. I don't care if your views vary from my faith in the God I serve. <br /> Heck. I don't even care if you are an auburn fan <i class="_lew" title="smile emoticon"><span class="_4mcd">:)</span></i><br /> I'm just ok with us having different thoughts and opinions. That's what makes the world go 'round. <br />
But. <br /> Insensitive jokes about the alligator. Hateful judgement about the mom and dad. <br /> That'll make me play the unfriending card. <br /> I have buried my own child. <br /> I have walked away from a cemetery with a little tiny mound of dirt (actually my husband carried me). <br /> And only by the grace of God, my life goes on. <br /> I can't handle hiding behind a keyboard with a thoughtless joke or comment. <br />
May God give endless grace to that family today as they woke up praying this was a bad dream. <br /> Because I woke up, hoping it was...on their behalf. <br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/pleaseunfriendme?source=feed_text&story_id=10209322245954433"><span class="_58cl">#</span><span class="_58cm">PleaseUnfriendMe</span></a><br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/soidonthaveto?source=feed_text&story_id=10209322245954433"><span class="_58cl">#</span><span class="_58cm">SoIDontHaveTo</span></a><br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/bekind?source=feed_text&story_id=10209322245954433"><span class="_58cl">#</span><span class="_58cm">BeKind</span></a><br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/peoplearehurting?source=feed_text&story_id=10209322245954433"><span class="_58cl">#</span><span class="_58cm">PeopleAreHurting</span></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-7831564211964272782016-06-10T17:01:00.001-05:002016-06-10T17:05:42.381-05:00Please remain calm<span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">It was a nice quiet day in the hundred acre woods.....who am I kidding?! It was a typical chaotic day. </span><div><font color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.7019607843137254)" face="UICTFontTextStyleBody"><span style="font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></span></font></div><div><font color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.7019607843137254)" face="UICTFontTextStyleBody"><span style="font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKMiSfbe4AA9Fp52FvvlZnU_955DMkT6OZ_mBvbO7AkAouyTtu0Wtv0rDmoeuf0DMp2vkAMNCYzMQEs9VtOfD080W6WQbh04fB5yx8T6w9nJX97px4DWIehc38GmrAc1TxufpxHi2KQk/s640/blogger-image-914275496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKMiSfbe4AA9Fp52FvvlZnU_955DMkT6OZ_mBvbO7AkAouyTtu0Wtv0rDmoeuf0DMp2vkAMNCYzMQEs9VtOfD080W6WQbh04fB5yx8T6w9nJX97px4DWIehc38GmrAc1TxufpxHi2KQk/s640/blogger-image-914275496.jpg"></a></div><br></span></font><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Mason was in class/lab and Chap was at worship practice. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Hubby was on the road (#TravelingCokeMan) and I was finishing up some work. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So, out of my office I go...in an effort to be a domestic queen and cook dinner for my children. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Well. That plan was de-railed as I spotted a puddle of blood in the garage. Fresh, bright red blood. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I looked for Jack in his usual spot. He wasn't there. But there was more blood.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Where was he? Had he been eaten by a pack of wolves (that seems likely)?! </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Panic. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Jack!!!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Jack!!!!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I scream as I run out into the yard searching. It looked like I had just been dispersed for an Easter Egg hunt. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Panic. Chaos. Where's Jack?! </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">There he is. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Whew! </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He hobbled his way to me. Only to stop at my feet and vomit no less than a gallon of fresh blood. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">WHAT IS GOING ON?! </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">No. Seriously. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Blood in the garage. Blood on the patio. Blood allllll over the front porch. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So after I had a complete lose-my-mind moment (or 3). I called the vet.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Thank goodness they gave us that handy dandy tag on his collar. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I didn't know MY OWN name....much less theirs. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I called. He was great. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He sensed my panic. Helped me evaluate. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Jack had severed the pad on his paw. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He explained that I needed to get the bleeding under control and to bring him in NOW. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">[he likened it to a human cutting their wrist. Time was pretty important here.]</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I wrapped it an ace bandage.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPjOi_XdYc9W93GheMn7A5nPoOGGnwKf_ZLVh4_l2BO1YosxJroUage2STfs_wnBGm1XRSxfDDNAX3ZGSrvXbsG9UoHRH-pQY8LspShNrK5u9nqN_0jLLkaa38g9XZFjI9XxY_ALjP9M/s640/blogger-image--1943116150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPjOi_XdYc9W93GheMn7A5nPoOGGnwKf_ZLVh4_l2BO1YosxJroUage2STfs_wnBGm1XRSxfDDNAX3ZGSrvXbsG9UoHRH-pQY8LspShNrK5u9nqN_0jLLkaa38g9XZFjI9XxY_ALjP9M/s640/blogger-image--1943116150.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Meanwhile, I'm crying "please don't die. Please don't die"</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He's whimpering. And looking so pitiful. But hardly had his eyes opened. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">And in the nick of time, Mason drove up. And carried Jack to the car. It was as if I almost hear Jack say aloud "can't you see I'm injured?! I can't walk!!"</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#spoiled</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_rUVCUNsVKvVDjP6hbB8KtU3zTKNFRVTNxbhrnUcykgQAfNr2hpHwM2-4BkXXgrqpCtB5qsxxg34YN0iE75UCpwFjkNGNv6xB534xlMym_WafU6dm8fIrA3N7REUdTJpvpIrbJ4atvo/s640/blogger-image-1785772422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_rUVCUNsVKvVDjP6hbB8KtU3zTKNFRVTNxbhrnUcykgQAfNr2hpHwM2-4BkXXgrqpCtB5qsxxg34YN0iE75UCpwFjkNGNv6xB534xlMym_WafU6dm8fIrA3N7REUdTJpvpIrbJ4atvo/s640/blogger-image-1785772422.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Hallelujah. He drove us. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The vet met us there. And dressed it properly. He gave him an anti biotic, and a shot of pain meds. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">And we went home to watch him thru the night. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My kids laugh at me about how I treat this puppy. Um.....</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWq6-sWQsbC4PmYIZARsUmY81H-_mjNlvPyIqL6xIdNdgzAQV95XlRfB3jgzfkmc_fcmJ62v35VG1fWPEFCLk4FNzRksshHaY3kn9GPEwnUsWKQZRXFpHVanbcCAAH_l3KCM0mDk5NF0s/s640/blogger-image--2030710012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWq6-sWQsbC4PmYIZARsUmY81H-_mjNlvPyIqL6xIdNdgzAQV95XlRfB3jgzfkmc_fcmJ62v35VG1fWPEFCLk4FNzRksshHaY3kn9GPEwnUsWKQZRXFpHVanbcCAAH_l3KCM0mDk5NF0s/s640/blogger-image--2030710012.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He slept with me. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He ONLY sleeps in his bed in the hall. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">But. Quite honestly. I was so uneasy. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I picked him up and put him with me and he never budged. Not an inch thru the night. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He was weak, and he was OUT. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I'm glad he was. I know he was in pain. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MrUjNHeQQiANVcRRqD2AAzteycHDuvRUxgYHSERA9AEC2oaZ8tZ9HUEI7GLANztZA4NYhlTV0crKr5V4cMKGMecqiGatGX2wy57gYazFf3IpRYO3nZJVw7S_I5kqBis-EQn-UG3zpCE/s640/blogger-image--1669074855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MrUjNHeQQiANVcRRqD2AAzteycHDuvRUxgYHSERA9AEC2oaZ8tZ9HUEI7GLANztZA4NYhlTV0crKr5V4cMKGMecqiGatGX2wy57gYazFf3IpRYO3nZJVw7S_I5kqBis-EQn-UG3zpCE/s640/blogger-image--1669074855.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He went for surgery this morning and the Dr said he had almost completely removed the pad on his paw. OUCH!!!!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">{we have no idea what or how he did this)</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So. Jack is home now. And bless it. He's pitiful.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuA_QUcWMMJNebMq1G9CfQMyjpB2zHfBs9YILWhFslk33Nz8ipfkUO7a5rXOZHRNXe0zZKsnVJ_r7amCdC52nhTBd9TFeRiyZ1ymMVfhG_pwRRF38wqzD1UkAXsQ55wIQuyXu9145tsl8/s640/blogger-image--1504472825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuA_QUcWMMJNebMq1G9CfQMyjpB2zHfBs9YILWhFslk33Nz8ipfkUO7a5rXOZHRNXe0zZKsnVJ_r7amCdC52nhTBd9TFeRiyZ1ymMVfhG_pwRRF38wqzD1UkAXsQ55wIQuyXu9145tsl8/s640/blogger-image--1504472825.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Who am I?! </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I don't even *like* dogs:)</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Are you kidding me?! I love this baby. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I need him.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I'm just so glad he's ok. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">But the moral of the story is---I'm terrible in a crisis. Psycho. Out. Of. Control. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">You should never count on me to call 911. Or save someone's life. I'm just not emotionally stable enough for that. #fact</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-53305390998530889512016-05-21T17:39:00.001-05:002016-05-21T17:39:11.363-05:00Memphis in May<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7y4wiIlX0K0eqwfDaM1EJP6C0JNu9KRtaAFzluRVoNgiOCDufpv3bL9PEuwnUyYMNGJBEun6aoBvLXjovK7kOujxykZkMFmyTNepkDDl710-M1mEj8QGyc1Vtxmfd6pSIDmYpduZ2L0/s640/blogger-image--1904756342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7y4wiIlX0K0eqwfDaM1EJP6C0JNu9KRtaAFzluRVoNgiOCDufpv3bL9PEuwnUyYMNGJBEun6aoBvLXjovK7kOujxykZkMFmyTNepkDDl710-M1mEj8QGyc1Vtxmfd6pSIDmYpduZ2L0/s640/blogger-image--1904756342.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Although it's physically impossible for me to be in 2 places today...my heart is. </div><div><br></div><div>Today in Memphis, we celebrate the life of Sean Berry. </div><div>At the same exact moment, in Turks and Caicos, we celebrate the love of Kayla and Austin. </div><div>My heart loves them both. And I am so thankful that God put them in my life. </div><div>"The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21</div><div>#EmotionallySpent </div><div>#AllThingsForHisGood </div><div>#EvenCancer </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-55963864710808383892016-03-21T08:14:00.003-05:002016-03-21T08:18:05.980-05:00One sided----it's not about me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NcMiCaY4AseM4fXeeQ8ZgJz276odisGT6InMTdMp4GvkisvbiZZkSjNl6nxY5OF9nayao_pz4hQYXltSYeMSLf9vOR2hZAnoXgF_dblLSCmGUWMadDOfQ8hTQItInxrmmUAVFE3hJfw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-03-21+at+8.17.25+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NcMiCaY4AseM4fXeeQ8ZgJz276odisGT6InMTdMp4GvkisvbiZZkSjNl6nxY5OF9nayao_pz4hQYXltSYeMSLf9vOR2hZAnoXgF_dblLSCmGUWMadDOfQ8hTQItInxrmmUAVFE3hJfw/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-03-21+at+8.17.25+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I have really been struggling with a few one-sided relationships...and it's hard to vocalize the why's and the what's about my struggles, because I just can't pinpoint what the struggle is.<br />
<br />
And then God.<br />
Why does He always have to chime in :)<br />
<br />
A message about Palm Sunday, and I am sure that it was intended to be a message of hope for the lost, or a message of redemption for the wayward.<br />
<br />
<u><i><b>------{you can find the message here: <a href="https://www.churchofthehighlands.com/media/message/at-the-cross">https://www.churchofthehighlands.com/media/message/at-the-cross</a>}-----</b></i></u><br />
<br />
But, <i><b>it was a message to me</b></i>, about <a href="https://www.churchofthehighlands.com/media/message/at-the-cross">The Cross.</a><br />
At the foot of The Cross there is healing.<br />
At the foot of The Cross there is level ground.<br />
At the foot of The Cross there is freedom.<br />
<br />
And, Pastor <a href="https://twitter.com/dinorizzo">Dino Rizzo</a> gave an illustration that I may never be able to "un-see" and for that I am so glad.<br />
The Cross has 2 beams. A vertical beam reminds me of the enormous
amounts of grace and forgiveness He has given to me. The horizontal beam
reminds me to extend it to others. And point them to Him.<br />
<br />
<br />
Woah.<br />
It's not about me.<br />
Maybe a few one-sided relationships are necessary, to keep my beam extended.<br />
A reminder for me to CONTINUE to give grace, even when sometimes it is not returned.<br />
A reminder for me to CONTINUE to fan the flame of friendship, even when it is not returned.<br />
A reminder for me to CONTINUE to offer mercy and love, even when it is not returned.<br />
A reminder for me to CONTINUE to bless, even when Thank You is not offered.<br />
<br />
Look at that one beam.<br />
The one that goes Vertical.<br />
He loved, He offered mercy, He perfected friendship, and He gave Grace...even when HE knew that I wouldn't always offer it back up to Him.<br />
<br />
This message of <a href="https://www.churchofthehighlands.com/media/message/at-the-cross">The Cross.</a><br />
So great!<br />
<br />
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http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-31570472674419452152016-01-26T20:54:00.001-06:002016-01-26T20:54:21.831-06:00Day 22 and beyond...<div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT5-Y7KDFjsS7wzaoarzzbqyFVSuajhcJSs5FRPprJINg7yRFmj5drex9CfV8bc1NGlr9oOPfHUfLuH4BxzZ9JvqtTsWrWDwtS44yqzMVArv3KoHKtmxmhy0E7OvCq9BqzIIJkGfBpVS0/s640/blogger-image-1284564065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT5-Y7KDFjsS7wzaoarzzbqyFVSuajhcJSs5FRPprJINg7yRFmj5drex9CfV8bc1NGlr9oOPfHUfLuH4BxzZ9JvqtTsWrWDwtS44yqzMVArv3KoHKtmxmhy0E7OvCq9BqzIIJkGfBpVS0/s640/blogger-image-1284564065.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">(Seriously, I need a nap)</span></div><div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></span></div>21 days of fasting and prayer </span><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I didn't feel like I should really fast from</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">food, mostly, because I have basically been fasting food for 915 days. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">But whatever. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I did feel led to "fast" from Facebook. And not necessarily from the "things" of Facebook. But just from the distractions of life. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">As my fingers got the "shakes" to check it, I would re-focus. It's been good. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">But in a social media driven world...it almost felt like I was missing out. At first. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Then as days went on, I realized I wasn't. Because life was happening all</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Around me. I was glad I was fully present to see it. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Chapman began learning to play the piano. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">2 of our 3 cars needed new tire$. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My hard drive in my laptop crashed. Dead. Laptop. {insert nervous twitch here}</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Mason transferred to UAB. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I attended 2 funerals of people I loved dearly. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I helped a friend serve at her sons 16th birthday ceremony. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We saw a few snowflakes in Alabama. I didn't leave the house :)</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My sweet pup, Jack, had his second birthday. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I sat with a friend at the hospital while her daughter had a brain tumor removed. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We spent a few more nights with Pop in the hospital. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Alabama won another National Championship. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">21 days of prayer and fasting makes me tired. Early mornings aren't my jam. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My niece, Kaitlyn, got engaged. Wes is one lucky fella. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">All in all, it's been a great 21 days. I'm</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Pretty excited to re-connect, but thankful for the new approach. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">After all, life is about loving people. And loving ON people. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I can do that pretty well, with Facebook. But I've done ok without. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Maybe balance is the key. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-25195960245373457282016-01-12T17:17:00.001-06:002016-01-12T17:17:59.885-06:00David Thompson<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxIE_KI-UyLRqWuOQYUdgIPFBTpGwAhBUelIEsGPhgY-FVpF0JReK10WFfOWZtm5pIEWwIQb1DIbuDurfs8vkFECom-VyNDjwks8RkLSjRPwBP5lkicolQ8eQfkivH871Jv1LbbWFt3U/s640/blogger-image-1188076175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxIE_KI-UyLRqWuOQYUdgIPFBTpGwAhBUelIEsGPhgY-FVpF0JReK10WFfOWZtm5pIEWwIQb1DIbuDurfs8vkFECom-VyNDjwks8RkLSjRPwBP5lkicolQ8eQfkivH871Jv1LbbWFt3U/s640/blogger-image-1188076175.jpg"></a></div> I'm at a loss. Saying goodbye to a forever friend. {I chose this pic because of the bolo tie and acid washed jeans}</div><div>I'm thankful we got to say our goodbyes. And I'm thankful for every single moment spent with him. </div><div>I'm heart broken at the thought of life for anyone, without David Thompson in it. </div><div>He was one of the good guys. 💔 #GodIsGood #ButCancerStillSucks </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-38037334630031197652015-10-25T20:36:00.001-05:002015-10-25T20:36:25.339-05:00Adventures in babysitting<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJfrZucDGw8oUX0QqOJQpcBEMSXNgYUPb6UlrI3p9DTKlnXC10iHm6gXtcR7vq7nj_LhWgIzNjPjSgMYFvkXPbwyw2TjDibPsEaZfIG42Az75f1iqsl_rebcaTmNcWmR-Nmx5c4WHylQ/s640/blogger-image-1445956833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJfrZucDGw8oUX0QqOJQpcBEMSXNgYUPb6UlrI3p9DTKlnXC10iHm6gXtcR7vq7nj_LhWgIzNjPjSgMYFvkXPbwyw2TjDibPsEaZfIG42Az75f1iqsl_rebcaTmNcWmR-Nmx5c4WHylQ/s640/blogger-image-1445956833.jpg"></a></div>Middle school, high school, and into my first year of college...I babysat for a family with 3 children. The youngest was about 6 months old when I started and maybe 3rd grade when I *sadly* had to stop (mercy, why did they leave them in my care!). I vacationed with them, I took them to after school activities. I helped them peddle their Girl Scout cookies. </div><div>They were my heart. </div><div>Anyways...</div><div>I ran into their mom today. 20 years later. </div><div>All 3 children are married. College graduates. And one has 2 children. </div><div>Humbly, it was like a God-pat-on-the-back. </div><div>Just what my heart needed. </div><div>My kids just may turn out ok, after all. </div><div>#ItTakesAVillage</div><div>#TheyAreGodsChildren #NotMine</div><div>#LordHelpMe</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-32040923786563651402015-08-28T15:58:00.001-05:002015-08-28T15:58:59.101-05:00Tiny bitesFriday August 28th. Day 2. <div>1/4 cup. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEqpvgRJ1l3AFwwG7pyQ7W6meBizlOZwu2Na2GveVmWOkeGRnHEvgBMCqZYgbONYE_EXIHi5pt911-l354yo0VLW-Jn36Sf0rp8oEgduRaU5A7XagZf4TyCUvQq7o-j-5nHI3YqTF1qE/s640/blogger-image--719646063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEqpvgRJ1l3AFwwG7pyQ7W6meBizlOZwu2Na2GveVmWOkeGRnHEvgBMCqZYgbONYE_EXIHi5pt911-l354yo0VLW-Jn36Sf0rp8oEgduRaU5A7XagZf4TyCUvQq7o-j-5nHI3YqTF1qE/s640/blogger-image--719646063.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-86501185436961688992015-08-18T19:07:00.001-05:002015-08-18T19:32:08.490-05:00Will "rehab" for Mickey wafflesSeriously, I'm not making light of it. <div>But if I don't laugh, I'll shoot myself in the face. So there. </div><div><br></div><div>Here's where I am today. </div><div>Vanderbilt University Medical Center. </div><div><br></div><div>Why? For answers. </div><div><br></div><div>But even better. God came before me. </div><div>And prepared the way. </div><div><br></div><div>No really. He did. </div><div><br></div><div>So, currently, I have an appointment at Medical University of South Carolina in September. </div><div><br></div><div>Mayo Clinic in October. </div><div><br></div><div>An "undiagnosed disease" specialist in Birmingham in November. </div><div><br></div><div>A pain therapist in December. </div><div><br></div><div>I kid you not. </div><div><br></div><div>Who am I? </div><div>Who is this? </div><div><br></div><div>Rewind 2 years ago, I'm a healthy marathoner full of life and spunk. </div><div>Today, I can hardly walk to the mailbox without being winded. And I'm</div><div>Almost an introvert on any given day, if the pain shuts me down. </div><div><br></div><div>Yes. Toss your "no excuses" shame my way. I wave the white flag. </div><div>Guilty of doing the same. </div><div><br></div><div>But for 25 months, I've lived on a diet of chicken breast and JIF peanut butter. And the occasional oatmeal. But heaven forbid, not all 3 in one day. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyways, I digress. </div><div><br></div><div>In January 2015, during our 21 days of prayer, I admit. I don't think I prayed for myself once. </div><div>On the day of healing prayer I was so focused on a few others, I never even tossed my name in the hat. </div><div>True story. I was so discouraged. And felt like it wasnt an issue of healing. But an issue of the doctors need to get their act together. </div><div><br></div><div>So. </div><div>Today. We are again in 21 days of prayer. And selfishly I've been praying for (along with many others) and believing for a miracle of healing for myself. Selfish. I know. </div><div>Move on. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>So last week, my doctor calls and says he's referring me to Vanderbilt or Mayo Clinic. He can't do anything else for me. </div><div>But. </div><div>The doctor at Vanderbilt can't see me until December. </div><div>Then Friday, I get the call that they can see me this week. </div><div>Bam. </div><div>Today. </div><div>August. Not December. </div><div><br></div><div>Then, I arrive today...</div><div>And the doctor already has a hunch. </div><div>But he says "start at the beginning."</div><div> So I do. </div><div><br></div><div>He said that everything I said affirmed his theory. </div><div>I truly believe God went before me and prepared his mind. </div><div><br></div><div>And then all of a sudden. </div><div>2+ years later. We have a plan. </div><div><br></div><div>A diagnosis of sorts:</div><div><br></div><div><div>it's a post-infectious dysfunction. </div><div>He says he is certain that I had a virus/ infection/bacteria/even a parasite maybe when it started so fierce that first night. (July 2013)</div><div>And the lack of proper treatment caused motility dysfunction in my large and/ or small intestine. </div><div>Along with abdominal migraines. </div><div><br></div><div>The good news is it usually corrects itself. The bad news is sometimes that takes up to five years. Or not at all. </div><div>But with some meds, and then within a few days...try to eat very lean and clean. Small bites a day. </div><div>He said to not try to eat meals. That's almost impossible. But to eat a few bites. A few times a day. Like baby steps. </div><div><br></div><div>He's running some blood work to check for lack of nutrition and just to check levels and test for celiac tendencies etc---but he said he's pretty confident he's spot on. </div><div>Motility issues would never show up on the tests. </div><div>Makes total sense. </div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>And I truly believe it's the power of prayer. Prayer from so many. </div><div>I have a team of prayer lovelies. </div><div>I am so thankful. </div><div>Today has been overwhelming. With love and prayer. </div><div>I'm completely overwhelmed by the people that love me. </div><div><br></div><div>**and for the record.....I've cancelled all of the future appointments at Mayo and in Charleston and Birmingham. I believe this is it. </div><div>I believe God is restoring me to full health. </div><div><br></div><div>And I believe that I'm going to eat a full meal with my family once again. </div><div><br></div><div>Seriously. For the first time in 25 months, I believe full well. </div><div><br></div><div>I can hardly even believe it when I type those words. </div><div>What a powerful day today has been. </div><div><br></div><div>I am so thankful for those that have prayed for and with me. </div><div><br></div><div>I can't wait to share a meal with each and everyone of you. </div><div>In maybe a year or two ;)</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-56546971869972655342015-07-26T21:31:00.000-05:002015-07-26T21:32:50.289-05:00Beware of the cocoon.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've had 3 different friends this week, refer to "the cocoon".<br />
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What cocoon? And why does this word keep popping up?<br />
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<i>"you know, she likes to slip into her cocoon when life gets hard, and not let anyone in"</i><br />
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<i>"she has closed herself off from everyone, and only comes out of her cocoon on occasion"</i><br />
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<i>"it's almost like if I could stay in my cocoon, then I don't get hurt. No one knows I'm there, and no one can hurt me"</i><br />
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<u><b>*that* cocoon.</b></u><br />
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And then I read this very long and so heart wrenching blogspot from <a href="http://www.heidiswapp.com/blog/">Heidi Swapp</a>, just days after her son took his own life.<br />
She blogged the events that unfolded in those days....probably so she could record them for her own keepsakes, but if I know her passion for memory-keeping like I think I do, she blogged this so that maybe it would keep someone else from slipping too far into their own cocoon / dark hole!<br />
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And so I'm not sure why, but God has impressed this word on me, over and over.<br />
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And then tonight Rick Bezet spoke at church, and his message of words was so very spot on. (funny how God does that).<br />
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But he mostly spoke about using the tongue to pierce.<br />
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But my heart kept saying <b><i>"use the words to love. use the words to nourish. use the words to help"</i></b><br />
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And then on the way home, that word cocoon came again, but God reminded me, that from the cocoon comes something beautiful. Something with wings. Something with passion and purpose.<br />
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I pray today that I can be much better at using my words to help someone else find their wings and their passion...and even if they find themselves in the cocoon they can know it's not the end, but just the beginning of such a greater place!<br />
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After all the cocoon is a part of new birth, the beginning of a new season. A fresh start! <br />
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God has so much wonder planned for us all....if we will burst forth from the cocoon...and let Him use us for His glory.<br />
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What a great word for today.<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-76859700632375475282015-07-15T11:06:00.001-05:002015-07-16T08:35:58.706-05:00Your life tells a story<div>
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I just received the sweetest compliment.<br />
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My day started off rocky to say the least. </div>
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Bit a little piece of everyone's head off...in my house. </div>
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Traffic trying to get to an appointment.<br />
For. An. Hour! </div>
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And my insides ache, just because I woke up today. </div>
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So. I drop Chappy at his appointment and go down the block to grab a cup of coffee. </div>
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They are closed. </div>
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Power outage. </div>
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Of course they are. </div>
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So. I go about 10 minutes down the way, to another. </div>
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They are open. </div>
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And everyone said amen! </div>
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So. I'm getting my coffee. </div>
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In a personalized cup, that my sweet friend Diane bought me. </div>
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The lady next to me began to compliment the cup. It's so cute with Mickey on it.<br />
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You like Disney?! </div>
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"I do. And I'm a Disney Travel</div>
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planner, so my worlds collide. And I love it."</div>
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Oh wow. Fun! </div>
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As we are talking, she noticed my shirt. Oh I love that verse. That's my favorite scripture. </div>
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I tell her that my friend Jennifer gave this to me for my 40th birthday. </div>
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And because it celebrates <a href="http://www.openhandsoverflowinghearts.org/">Kayla</a>, and her verse as she continues her cancer journey. </div>
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I instinctively refer to my purple bracelet, as I speak of <a href="http://www.openhandsoverflowinghearts.org/">Kayla</a>. </div>
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Then the lady, "oh my word. Look at that <a href="http://www.lucysinspired.com/">bracelet</a>. How gorgeous" (referring to my <a href="http://www.lucysinspired.com/">Lucy's Locket</a> cuff. </div>
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And I begin to brag on <a href="http://www.lucysinspired.com/">Lucy</a>, and her success and her gorgeous jewelry. </div>
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And then I point out that my necklace is also a Lucy's Locket. </div>
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And the lady squeals, "your entire life tells such a lovely story" </div>
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Gah. It sure does. She snapped me back into check so fast. </div>
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I'm blessed with great friends and sweet treasures. </div>
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What a lovely compliment. </div>
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My life tells a lovely story. </div>
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So much better than boring :)</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-75843909519645001922015-07-11T19:09:00.001-05:002015-07-16T08:38:30.061-05:00Serve Day 15<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTtROIYd6enCTvSrMUaF_ur_mS5PkO-rbg-_hBRbtSewOIs5WpS-_NxKApJJxizusI1hWmVPfJGbyEo6r46TirXcf91HkETNqfDQjOr7A5chH3xPgZa4Sz7Tn6V2t-4g-T3Xe3SmolkU/s640/blogger-image--800417516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTtROIYd6enCTvSrMUaF_ur_mS5PkO-rbg-_hBRbtSewOIs5WpS-_NxKApJJxizusI1hWmVPfJGbyEo6r46TirXcf91HkETNqfDQjOr7A5chH3xPgZa4Sz7Tn6V2t-4g-T3Xe3SmolkU/s640/blogger-image--800417516.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="https://www.churchofthehighlands.com/serve/">Serve Day. </a></div>
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Where love covers a city. </div>
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Wearing red shirts. </div>
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131 churches came together to pour love into the communities. </div>
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The hands and feet of Jesus put to action. </div>
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131. That's incredible. 131!!! Not to promote a church. But to promote Jesus. </div>
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Love people. Love people. Love people. </div>
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#perfection </div>
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#overflowing</div>
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#ServeDay15</div>
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http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-18832282775730573862015-06-20T21:50:00.001-05:002015-06-20T21:50:12.743-05:00Fathers Day and money?! What?<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMXZhVHbjyOGscDo8-whonlaWojxNe6u2qoPzOKSyd0follaXmh9uOTCVaqRL_eISYij69Vc6LPbsY39pe089RVYqgFbLu2zrGiol9dqtLnyQ809_spAyxeaq54xh3keSownfmkbkJFs/s640/blogger-image-532953306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMXZhVHbjyOGscDo8-whonlaWojxNe6u2qoPzOKSyd0follaXmh9uOTCVaqRL_eISYij69Vc6LPbsY39pe089RVYqgFbLu2zrGiol9dqtLnyQ809_spAyxeaq54xh3keSownfmkbkJFs/s640/blogger-image-532953306.jpg"></a></div>I've always heard that people that work in the treasury department don't study fake money. But they study U.S. Currency so well, that they can spot an imitation in an instant. </div><div>Yeah. That's how I know a good guy when I spot one. </div><div>I watched this guy closely while I was growing up. And I didn't even know it. #EveryGirlNeedsAHero #OneRaisedMe #OneMarriedMe #FathersDay </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5595644407412485394.post-26690589906805684302015-05-27T16:29:00.003-05:002015-05-27T16:29:23.029-05:00Jack in the "band aid" box<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AZ4zUYseLeaIJ60dxmuHVb9QA9YvOFZSAXn2RkhA6P7Ix3rKaIwy8IxD-QoSUcHR2sT419saSt4CsSJ6Tw00OeAKLRJHAxm7adCiQ0w5uUfYDD_MEOgDWosQc40dAVYt5xtIRi5Eg9c/s640/blogger-image-687369232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AZ4zUYseLeaIJ60dxmuHVb9QA9YvOFZSAXn2RkhA6P7Ix3rKaIwy8IxD-QoSUcHR2sT419saSt4CsSJ6Tw00OeAKLRJHAxm7adCiQ0w5uUfYDD_MEOgDWosQc40dAVYt5xtIRi5Eg9c/s640/blogger-image-687369232.jpg"></font></a></div><div><br></div>I woke up Wednesday morning to blood everywhere! <div>All over the ground, in the garage...puppy shaped blood prints! </div><div><br></div><div>Alarming, to say the least. </div><div><br></div><div>I found Jack in his spot in the garage crying. </div><div>Bless him. </div><div><br></div><div>As I finally convinced him to let me check him, he limped toward me, as I discovered he had cut his paw. </div><div><br></div><div>What seemed like gallons of blood later, and the vet stitched his paw, and back home we go. </div><div><br></div><div>Yes...with prescription pain meds. I kid not. </div><div><br></div><div>This little guy will be fine, after lots of snuggles and TLC. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full
http://3qtguys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>Just call me "B"http://www.blogger.com/profile/10909581137837935143noreply@blogger.com0