tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45899345943033616682024-03-06T00:48:14.619-06:00Life with my sisterSistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.comBlogger1528125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-84948692123010471932020-09-08T14:04:00.013-05:002020-09-08T14:20:44.267-05:00My father is not a saint, a ghost nor an angel<p> </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7Y-GBAsttlaD8b13gc7IRdcJBn06GxuUKc7NK9VsIb-stZ9Gu52U24wxpsXwFX5T2ozqvALlLNcamkZIb4HoMCQe3XWEmVBlfpplqHQHg9I07Grs6t2yhIf01MWjnKJ0xCI4RjyIPiw/s2048/IMG-2771.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="he had jokes, always" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7Y-GBAsttlaD8b13gc7IRdcJBn06GxuUKc7NK9VsIb-stZ9Gu52U24wxpsXwFX5T2ozqvALlLNcamkZIb4HoMCQe3XWEmVBlfpplqHQHg9I07Grs6t2yhIf01MWjnKJ0xCI4RjyIPiw/w240-h320/IMG-2771.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">He had jokes, always</span><br /><p style="text-align: left;">It’s been a year this week since my daddy left this earth to take up residency inside his mansion in glory. I love to laugh at the thought of anyone thinking Bob Skutt is dressed like cupid, Casper or flying around in angel wings. Y’all, Bob, isn’t fluttering about watching over us!</p></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj-L7Ecdx-SyTxf4YW131WU4F25LhqnEc7GI4CswouE597StrQeeU0VsxaxmmhmiKbSDjTW_fClWRCpU9E_6-90jtybCuzGVY-QP0wl7vsVjOi8tpphjZ0uJEX3sxrZBYzYKTgNK2d30/s604/2242_56281391026_3614_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="422" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj-L7Ecdx-SyTxf4YW131WU4F25LhqnEc7GI4CswouE597StrQeeU0VsxaxmmhmiKbSDjTW_fClWRCpU9E_6-90jtybCuzGVY-QP0wl7vsVjOi8tpphjZ0uJEX3sxrZBYzYKTgNK2d30/s320/2242_56281391026_3614_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Ho Ho Ho it's the Grandmonkey"<br /></span><p style="text-align: left;">My father in costume for eternity is a strong “nope”. One time he dressed like an elf for the Santa float in the Fort Smith Christmas parade. I was too old to think that was cool. It was a tragic day for the offspring. He ran around Garrison Ave. and threw candy while in an elf costume. Photos were taken and distributed about town. One was even framed inside the trophy case at the field house of our beloved Northside High School. I walked past it for years and moaned every time. Never a dull moment with him and I am positive that was the last costume he ever wore on earth or in eternity. It was truly something.</p></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-IVjT_pA8OoZYHNixL_-MwL2p-95dcQDM8MheFBk0yA0goHY00EW_NCMzJOhmZa6LNMHZ3duYVHKa-DduotqM2AaHZIFxE1gnINws3wxeo2tcLYEhYEIFkB9_h9DQW4CssjXdj25pOo/s2048/IMG-2821.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-IVjT_pA8OoZYHNixL_-MwL2p-95dcQDM8MheFBk0yA0goHY00EW_NCMzJOhmZa6LNMHZ3duYVHKa-DduotqM2AaHZIFxE1gnINws3wxeo2tcLYEhYEIFkB9_h9DQW4CssjXdj25pOo/s320/IMG-2821.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">King of the wild frontier</span><br /><p style="text-align: left;">My father is not a saint, a ghost nor an angel, contrary to all the sweet ballads and poems you hear. We don’t die and become those things (spoiler alert!). I hate to rain on your heavenly parade, but that’s just not biblical. He was a saved man, and that is all that matters when we take our last breath. Thankfully, we rest in knowing he met Jesus in an instant that Tuesday afternoon in September in the Smokies. The celebration and noise, oh the noise, that must have taken place in that moment! My father was not a quiet man. He lived loud and the lack of noise without him here is sometimes deafening for all of us. I imagine he is singing at the top of his lungs still to this day and will never stop. I just love that thought.</p></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3dg2fxPEY3CJiiLybQE7VQBF8xWr2zM6AMAYD1-koyZ1FlvYJd4u1wT7MzhHlBevLr1Yse5i_C_x-FVDJRpAFRuuNL3WqGWNbTsbTqrlfbA1wSksZATgzOrV6365rdbcEGAZt3tItOo/s2048/IMG-2816.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3dg2fxPEY3CJiiLybQE7VQBF8xWr2zM6AMAYD1-koyZ1FlvYJd4u1wT7MzhHlBevLr1Yse5i_C_x-FVDJRpAFRuuNL3WqGWNbTsbTqrlfbA1wSksZATgzOrV6365rdbcEGAZt3tItOo/s320/IMG-2816.JPG" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"I can cool them down when they're smoldering hot"</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: cambria; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">My father was also not a perfect man. No one is. He had faults and failures like the rest of us. He was human. He loved well though and that is all anyone remembers about him now. We have often said we wish he had known just how loved he truly was. He had no clue. I tear up typing that still to this day. He just lived life and didn’t stop to see the impact he made on so many lives. His joy and compassion splashed about in so many circles and with people we had never met. That was my daddy.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eqYQkE9w76WRBW9X82RInnnW3OjAkLVMvyMh-hfd-bwQWhwQaYYVCSa4XHKr5BXc2d9-CuxjK7BLJ-Q_0WG1c41ZMZ-RuJYN570_tlno0i-7u4kjvwA9ul564xyAodqDc3GgSw4o9Pc/s960/1477879_10151829628646027_1928531993_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="960" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eqYQkE9w76WRBW9X82RInnnW3OjAkLVMvyMh-hfd-bwQWhwQaYYVCSa4XHKr5BXc2d9-CuxjK7BLJ-Q_0WG1c41ZMZ-RuJYN570_tlno0i-7u4kjvwA9ul564xyAodqDc3GgSw4o9Pc/w320-h218/1477879_10151829628646027_1928531993_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Up on the housetop reindeer paws..."</span><br /><p style="text-align: left;">I had friends tell me things he had done for them over the years to offer encouragement. He visited the sick regularly, he prayed with neighbors who were hurting, he lead kids to the Lord, he checked on his friend’s family regularly when that friend was called off to war. On and on…things I had never heard and oh, how they blessed my broken heart! It was inspiring to see how he was quiet in that respect, yet loud in every other moment. He was loved so well because he invested in people when it mattered and not just when it was easy. I wish we could all live more like that.</p></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQL5pGm8TB5iDm3KEdWWVJsjx_muKYq6jx9lU4o3AcylzKOoWjnYvqRuc4W53Hx4EZeO6k67pLZLDOEhqdcvGu4TzPrUvPsB2KAp7ugPw3e-U_yHk7IPwSnsBXih1CWrKAjwhy8M8BKV8/s2048/IMG-2760.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQL5pGm8TB5iDm3KEdWWVJsjx_muKYq6jx9lU4o3AcylzKOoWjnYvqRuc4W53Hx4EZeO6k67pLZLDOEhqdcvGu4TzPrUvPsB2KAp7ugPw3e-U_yHk7IPwSnsBXih1CWrKAjwhy8M8BKV8/s320/IMG-2760.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sleep in heavenly peace</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: cambria; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">He is not a saint, a ghost nor an angel, but he was a friend, husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, bonus dad, cousin and friend to a host of people left behind who are better because of him. I miss his laughter and encouragement in my life in ways I will never be able to put into words. My friends even say. “I miss your dad” because I sent screenshots of his texts on the daily. They were always epic and full of laughter. One day I might even write a book about all the embarrassing things a dad can do to build character in a daughter. Oddly enough, the embarrassing moments he has left me with have become the most precious memories. Who knew? Life is funny that way. The 40 years and 362 days I had him were the best years of my life. </p><p style="font-family: cambria; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />Here's to one trip around the sun without him and we made it...there are days that looked real sketchy there at first! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Abby Jo</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com1Jonesboro, AR, USA35.842296700000013 -90.7042797.5320628638211673 -125.860529 64.152530536178858 -55.548029tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-83377925396457377792020-09-02T13:18:00.016-05:002020-09-03T14:26:12.084-05:00Just Another Predictable Tuesday, Until It Wasn't<p><span style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">We are inching up to the first heaveniversary of daddy's death. I decided I didn't want to forget the details of that day from <a href="https://sistersabbyandjulie.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">my perspective</a>. He was such a loud light in all of our lives and that is missed more than any of us can truly express. I know heaven is a louder and lighter place because of his presence. I still picture him arriving in heaven and it makes me grin ear to ear with a tear. </span></p><p><b style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">“Abby, It’s your dad. He’s gone.”</b><span style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Those words came from a tear stained face and through a broken voice shattered with shock. My husband delivered the news. He knew how those words would devastate me in a way like no other bad news ever had. I had lost jobs, friends, a goldfish, car radiators and engines even, but never had anyone had to tell me I had just lost something as precious as a daddy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">"He's gone." Never something you prepare to hear and the word "gone" still rings oddly in my ear, almost a year later. I sat in Randall's truck screaming ugly words that would have gotten me spanked by my daddy and hitting the dashboard. I felt like I was inside the cemetery scene of <a href="https://www.biography.com/news/steel-magnolias-quotes">Steel Magnolias</a>. If there had been an Ouiser near by, I would have whacked her!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It was a Tuesday afternoon in September. It was so humid that afternoon in the <a href="https://www.jonesboro.org/" target="_blank">delta</a> that I could barely breathe. Adding this heavy news to it, made the next breath seem almost impossible. I couldn’t imagine a world without him in it and the next breath would mean that was a reality. But, I had to keep breathing because he would expect that I do my best for his grandson. He had to catch this same breath twice for his girls when it seemed impossible. We watched him lose both of his parents. His daddy also died on a humid day in September. I knew I had to follow his example in loss and that was no small feat. Losing a parent doesn’t come with a manual and it’s not something you prepare for, especially on a normal, boring, predictable Tuesday. </p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/4589934594303361668/8337792539645737779?hl=en"><img alt="The last day we saw my Daddy alive" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiha8B5YmYNfenHY88cSqgG9FV9TFBe63V5oPgtk4_dcn7Uvy6R9oSfCFvixHv8M8Z1IbvTHski9btfDhFmp6iwrCC1JMxMu-ZAtAuEzI9hZB1cl4NDa2YMDys0XcjGKONZlEYDtqEOlj0/w375-h500/IMG_9742.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>3 days before he died with Bull and lil' Bull</i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> <span> </span> </span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">I was walking the track around the football field with a friend while our boys practiced football on that seemingly mundane Tuesday afternoon in September. We had talked of Daddy and how fun he had been at the first football game of the season on that previous Saturday. We laughed and talked about his visit. Daddy was never short on wise cracks or the ability to embarrass the fire out of his people. He proved that to be true as he attempted play-by-play from the bleachers during that fourth grade football game. He saw Henry play in his first game. The pride on his face as he sat right next to me at the top of those bleachers that Saturday will never fade far from my heart. No one knew the first game would also be the last. I know heaven is grand but I have to think he was pretty sad about this also. Daddy loved football and his grandkids about equally…so adding the two together was a heavenly experience on earth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Before football practice that Tuesday afternoon Randall had called to say he would be home by supper after all because the combine broke down. I was not prepared to cook supper that night and did not receive that phone call with joy. I told him he better grab supper from a sack! He was also not receiving my response with joy. Tuesday’s in the fall <a href="www.jonesborohomesource.com">working </a>in agriculture are like this so it was nothing short of normal. It’s never invited, yet it’s expected.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As my friend and I were walking the track at football practice my phone rang and I saw it was that “hangry” husband of mine. I answered annoyed because I wasn’t over the attitude about his sack supper. He sounded quiet and numb. He asked, “Where are you?” I of course am a lot like my daddy when it comes to wise cracks so I let him know that was a dumb question and he knew where I was. He had to ask me three times and never changed his tone. I knew something was wrong. Randall then asked me to come out to the parking lot and meet him. (He knew I was on the track. He was simply trying to ask me where on the track so he could get to me quickly. That’s the kind of man I feed from a sack. Shameful of me, I know.)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/4589934594303361668/8337792539645737779?hl=en"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipq-4p2MpP16KRrONRvdqqBSpcyUXspVNxbMKpASGbz5QG-xSB5uia_ilZ0X3ful6NUBlYv7Hm24zgZRlR20FUEa-OLcJROz7bnKTleyI1OIYKsiJNgjZjJvklnobmg0kCVXrSzq4Rbus/s640/IMG_9817.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>He went out swinging. (the day before he died at the wax museum.)</i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"> I had decided in those ten seconds of dialogue that the dog was dead. (Funny how we think we can predict life and how the story goes). How would I live without my Dixie girl? What neighbor ran over her? My friend on the track of course heard all this and knew I was thinking the dog was in bad shape. She is also Dixie’s veterinarian so she was alarmed too. She offered to walk to the truck with me. I told her it would be fine and to just to keep watch over Henry and I would be back.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As I walked to Randall’s truck I had this overwhelming panic come over me. It was something else, not the dog. It was something dark and painful I was walking into. This was not feeling anything like a predictable Tuesday.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">I called my sister, Julie, and got her voicemail. I then quickly texted and asked, “what is wrong? Something is wrong isn’t it?” My big sister always softened the blows and rescued me from hurt so where was she? Crickets…nothing from her. I was sure something bad was on the horizon. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As I approached the truck my mind was everywhere. I had decided maybe he was leaving me because of the supper from a sack. Wild thought but minds are funny things when in panic mode. Maybe this was a deal breaker after 16 years and he was ready for a woman who cooked on Tuesday’s in September. I opened the door of that Chevy and life as I had loved so well for 40 years and 362 days was over.<o:p></o:p></p></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/4589934594303361668/8337792539645737779?hl=en"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimmxnZNjzZ74i6SRTT5ZnPF59WaPqHg9miEQvVIauwGtjmeXBhmc3YcMCMSNmmEfOvpAdpccgrLH9hwq1zRASmRxBVpeM6-SYsvkBIcTn2osTPS6qe1XYcLjf_qB2VhhbmQGair6wYrvQ/s640/IMG_9812.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nothing like dying on vacation. So glad they had a few days of fun.</i> </td></tr></tbody></table><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Once the words were spoken and reality had filled the air, all manner of emotion and anger followed. Again, no how-to manual comes with this type of news. You can’t prepare for your reaction because love is something that doesn’t come with an expiration date even though lives do. I looked out the truck window and we were parked right where Daddy and I had parked three days before to attend Henry’s first tackle football game. Providence is real and it comes alive during great loss.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We had just seen him in the flesh a few days before this. He was upright, laughing and full of the spunk that always ran through his veins, so how does he die suddenly without a <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/lifewithmysister/remembering-daddy/" target="_blank">good-bye</a>? I just kept asking this over and over. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">My sister, Julie had received the call. A call no one expects to pick up at 5:00 on a Tuesday. She was so broken and shocked to the core. Julie was at her office and her husband, Stephen, happened to come there after he got off work that day. Stephen was standing there when she got the call. Thankfully, he could be the one to call Randall. He was so glad Randall was home and not harvesting in a neighboring state, as expected. They were going to drive 3 hours to tell me because they knew I could not process this news over the phone alone. The combine breaking down and getting Randall home at that exact time was Jesus. He had our husbands in the right places at the right time. If you don’t think the Lord is in every detail of our lives, than you need to read this paragraph again. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Daddy was on vacation with his wife, bonus daughter and her little boy having so much fun. That afternoon he went out for a little walk around the condo and never came back. They found him on the sidewalk and attempted to revive him but he was already with Jesus. Just like that, he was gone. He was pronounced dead in Sevierville, home of <a href="https://smokymountains.com/sevierville/blog/history-dolly-parton-seviervilles-adored-citizen/" target="_blank">Dolly Parton</a>, and returned to his beloved <a href="https://www.memphistravel.com/">Memphis</a>, Home of the Blues. Never underestimate the normal, boring, and predictable Tuesday's. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">More on this heaveniversary to come...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>Abby Jo</i></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-20682293259603331192019-12-31T14:23:00.001-06:002019-12-31T14:26:36.564-06:00Year End Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYEMVzd3_TgMHcBVioWP3lyJku4oME6ECMS4CzCWtfkrHaN9E3l8RTxzi1qxDy0I2TllWuhSeIZqF_F46fGqusIcVtdqGNqxM2KDUmUgGzLG3jvBdZLFmPpueTSFEFuvw4DDzI6K0XhY/s1600/Year-End-Review-e1513802289251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="990" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYEMVzd3_TgMHcBVioWP3lyJku4oME6ECMS4CzCWtfkrHaN9E3l8RTxzi1qxDy0I2TllWuhSeIZqF_F46fGqusIcVtdqGNqxM2KDUmUgGzLG3jvBdZLFmPpueTSFEFuvw4DDzI6K0XhY/s320/Year-End-Review-e1513802289251.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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One word to describe this year:<br />
Overwhelming. In every sense of the word. Recovering from all the ways 2019 overwhelmed me will take a minute. Overwhelmed in both the good and bad ways. Overwhelmed with disappointment, loss and frustration but also overwhelmed with goodness, love, grace and much hope. Joy always comes in the mourning and morning. This year was proof of it. <br />
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Best thing I did for someone this year:<br />
I fought for my child through what felt like a minefield at times. I fought for his best interest in school, in his faith, on the field, at the table, in the gym and in the loss of a grandparent. He is 10 and unaware of how much we do to feed his success, help him thrive and protect his heart. Randall and I get to enjoy the joy in the journey. That's parenting, right?!<br />
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Favorite movie of the year:<br />
Toy Story 4 on opening night with my people.<br />
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Favorite show of the year:<br />
Dallas - all 14 seasons watched again.<br />
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Most embarassing moment of the year:<br />
That's hard because I have these moments on the daily.<br />
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Time you laughed the hardest this year:<br />
Playing Apples to Apples in Royal, AR with friends<br />
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Something you had to do that you have never done before:<br />
lose a parent. suddenly. out of no where. all of it at once. the arrangements, the service, the loss. That sucked so hard.<br />
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Most newsworthy event:<br />
Abby Jo Skutt Lee took out a construction loan, built a beautiful home in a desired area and sold it as soon it was listed for asking price.<br />
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Biggest lesson learned:<br />
never trust another person to spend your money wisely.<br />
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Favorite place you visited this year:<br />
Southfork. I mean read about 6 up and see why.<br />
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Most memorable day of the year:<br />
Daddy's memorial service 9/14/19. I wish he could have been there.<br />
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Best advice you received this year:<br />
Take your time.<br />
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An achievement you are proud of this year:<br />
Our women's ministry events were well attended and full of happy hearts. That ministry means so much to me and I put more into it than I give myself credit for because I feel selfish getting credit for the Lord's work.<br />
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What is one great compliment you received this year:<br />
This fall someone told me I always make them smile even when they don't want to. It was like a shot to my soul. My heart was crumbling inside with grief but they didn't know that. It was a great reminder that I have to count it all joy when I face trials of every kind. I still have to shine my light and help those around me.<br />
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What or who am I most thankful for this year:<br />
My husband has been a rock in times of great storms this year. He has carried the weight of loss, frustration and responsibility in ways he has never had to before. I can't imagine 2019 without his voice of reason, compassionate heart and ability to make me laugh. I am thankful God knew I would need him in 2019 and sent him my way years ago. <br />
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<br />Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-1785516266320430722018-05-26T20:58:00.002-05:002018-05-26T20:58:37.099-05:00ChurchYesterday I read a blog a friend of mine wrote about being a foster parent. She has been so real in her telling of her time as a foster mom. It’s been refreshing to read her highs AND her lows. So many times people make it seem like rainbows and fairy dust. As her blog post went on she admonished the church, the people in the pews, to be foster parents. And that got me thinking.<br />
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The Southern Baptist Convention is going through a challenging time right now. The climate in the convention is harsh. People are mad, wounded, looking to lash out. While others are defending the actions of men that have been so wrong and for so long.<br />
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I thought about my friends blog, her call to be a foster parent and began to put thoughts together of why more people can’t/won’t be foster parents. I’ve been in the church my whole life, I know Christians, I know church people. And this is what I know.<br />
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The men and women that are filling our churches are sinners. And sadly many of them are just fine living a life Monday-Saturday that is completely different than the life they portray on Sunday. <br />
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There are deacons who are addicted to porn, wives that are having affairs. Men that are hitting their wives, women that have a secret drinking problem, families that are in financial distress and can hardly pay the bills. Kids that are rebelling against their parents and their “Christian” ways. Parents that are struggling to help their children get thru school because of their ADHD, or because they’re being bullied, or because they just struggle with math or any host of reasons that kids struggle! Women that are usurping their husbands role in the home, women that are sabotaging churches, people that are going to work where their co-workers would be shocked to find they had spent Sunday in church because of the language they use, or their treatment of people of a different gender or race.<br />
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These are the people sitting in our pews. These are the people we want to be foster parents. These are the ones we want to help broken children in a broken system. How can they???!! <br />
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The problem is there is a disconnect between the staff in the church and it’s members. I understand the disconnect. I’ve been on both sides of it, and let me tell you this side of it, the members side, is tough! We’re out in the world. The offices, the non-churched are our coworkers and friends The preacher hasn’t ever heard the kind of language that is used around us on a daily basis. We’re trying to lead the life the preacher spoke of on Sunday but with no real help offered by the church. Sure the Bible is our help. It’s our map to live a holy, God-fearing, fulfilling life. But I’m so many of our churches it is assumed that everyone knows how to read their Bible and pray. We expect ALL the people to know what the people that have been in church for 60 years know.<br />
Becoming a Christian is a week e experience. The fact that Jesus, the Son of God, wants to become the Lord of your life is awesome! It’s incredible. But it doesn’t come with instant knowledge of all things Bible, Jesus, and church. We, the church, HAVE got to be better. We HAVE to teach, disciple, the new Christians. But in order to do so, we have to get our lives in shape. We have to find a way out of the addictions, the abuse, the neglect, the financial distress we’re in.<br />
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I so wish I had answers and solutions. I don’t. But I will be praying that God shows the solutions to me or someone, hopefully someone else, that has the power to make sure changes are made.<br />
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We need a change, we know it. Are we ready for it?Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00046616592284544671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-2263792341511405162018-04-10T13:54:00.000-05:002018-04-10T21:41:02.417-05:00What I lack in athletic talent, I'm off the chart in good sense. Oh, for the love of the game. Can we not just let kids play ball when they are little and not try to shape them into who we wanted to be and never were? I'm just sayin....I could easily fall into that trap with my child because I was never the best at anything physical, but thankfully I don't engage in such behavior because what I lack in athletic talent, I'm off the chart in good sense.<br />
Being a parent is one of the hardest jobs on earth. I mean, if you want to do it it right and with all your might. Watching your kid struggle and succeed all in the same breath is an experience like none other and cannot be expressed with words really. Moms just know and have this look they give each other that basically says "yep, I see your baby. shine on, mama."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry and his best buddy (2017) </td></tr>
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My son has the character that many grown men could only wish to have. He has done well accepting the fruit basket the Holy Spirit has given him (aka- fruits of the spirit) ...except for the that ole patience plum. We could use a little extra care with that one. He cares more than his daddy and I can usually comprehend and it often leaves us defeated and deflated but it also leaves us proud and encouraged more times than not. Henry is a thinker, a doer and a lover of all. His compassion is convicting to my mama heart on a daily basis. Don't be thinking he is perfect. He gets spanked and sent to his room almost daily...so its a struggle and success all in one, all the time...all the time. But that's all of us, isn't it? That's why we have a savior, thank heavens!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">practicing in the backyard (2017)</td></tr>
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So, there is this thing called city league sports. Remember it? Well, it ain't yo daddy's league no mo! I loathe it will all my being but how do you tell your child "no" when he wants to play? The competition is fierce and its mostly fueled by the daddy on the baseline who probably never played. Well, we just aren't those people at our house. I grew up with a daddy who supported city league ball and invested all his summers in them. If you know my daddy, you probably picture him on the field. All got a chance and all were taught the same game. "Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game" was the motto when we were kids. It was taught to us by our parents because that generation believed it and lived it.<br />
Well, let me just tell ya, the rise in competition is fierce for our kids overall but sports takes the cake thanks to all these competition/travel teams. I have wonderful, dear friends who do this with their kids and it is a family affair that they enjoy. It works for them and we cheer them on. I also see friends who didn't do it and their kids aren't picked for upper grade teams at school because of it. Boys not on AAU basketball or travel baseball teams have quit playing school sports because they don't want to be rejected. It's a shame. The community and school sports teams as we knew them are gone by the waste side and it makes me mad and so sad. The kid who loves the game, the kid who just wants to play, the one who wants to be on a team and wear a uniform is forgotten. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catcher (2017)</td></tr>
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My child is that kid. But he is 8. He is amazing at tennis but he wants to keep playing baseball. We paid $60 for city league baseball again this year knowing most boys his age that can "play" are already on travel teams. We begged him not to. We offered to give him the the $60 instead. But he insisted he play because he loves being on a team and wearing the uniform and the nights under the lights. He loves when his babysitter and her gang come see him play and cheer him on. He is 8. You can't say no even though we know its not the same 8 as it was when we were 8. Nonetheless, he is 8 and God wires all 8 years old's the same no mater the generation. He is God and he stays the same. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed to a game (2017)</td></tr>
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So, to the dad beside me at practice, chewing on your tobacco like a cow chews its cud. You didn't know who I was or that I was listening to you tell the other parents my son was no good and laughed about him hoping to get a response out of them but instead got one from me. His mom. I hope you swallowed a little of that tobacco juice when I spoke up and told you what for in the most classy way I could through my sunglassed, tear filled eyes while never turning my head to acknowledge you. It's people like you who are raising bullies. Stop it. The parents spending more time on character than batting practice beg you to stop being a bully. You, rude sir, are why our kids have more active shooter drills than tornado drills. You are one of many, but we character building parents will snuff you sorry dogs out all day long. Go join a travel team and let the character building mamas spending their hard earned dollars and weekends shut your bullying up and let us have our league back. (In my best Julia Sugarbaker voice. boo-yah!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">batter up (2017)</td></tr>
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"Let the field be joyful and all that is in it." Psalm 96:12<br />
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Abby Jo<br />
AKA - #11's mom <br />
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<br />Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-50779148224160213762018-02-19T12:11:00.002-06:002018-02-19T12:26:40.212-06:00Jesus Laughs<br />
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This photo popped up on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/abbyjolee/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> last week and it has consumed me ever since. Shocker, huh? Jesus laughs. Who knew? If you think this is irreverent than you need to click off here right now because your holy toes are about to get stepped on.<br />
We always see the stoic Jesus or the wounded Jesus. I don't think He wants to be seen that way and I am pretty certain he does not want His children to be seen that way. Serious and wounded is how we are taught to see Him in pictures. I like to think this is the true picture of who Jesus is. Love is all over this face. I can't help but smile while looking at it.<br />
None of us know what He really looks like and we all see Him differently. The Bible tells us to count it all joy through trials of many kinds. I am no Bible scholar. I have a degree in communications and a minor in home economics. I took an old testament course in college and made a C. But, I have been washed in the blood, raised in the Bible belt as a Southern Baptist who earned all her GA badges, walked down the steps of the sanctuary by spotlight in a prom dress to receive her Acteen awards. I worked as a counselor at church camp and I lead the women's ministry at my church. I have seen lots of pictures of what Lifeway thinks Jesus looks like. I have also faced trials of many kinds in my 39 years on this earth and through those I have determined He looks friendly and approachable.<br />
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My parents divorced when I was in college and it came with lots of hurts. I have lost a job when I really needed one. My mother almost died from pitiful healthcare providers whom we put our trust in. I have been in the ring and fought for my child's best on many occasions when the cheerleaders were few. I have relocated to places where I had no friends or family. I have watched my sister's family be wounded by the church and overcome it and in turn we were all wounded and had to overcome it. So many trials, too many to name. But you know what, I still laugh and sometimes I even laugh about things I just mentioned. I believe Jesus was full of joy and people followed him because of it. I also believe that is what He has called us to be. Full of joy even through tears, heartache and pain. That's how we are refined and used for His glory.<br />
I know we find ourselves in these seasons that have us asking "how?". He has shown us how. We have to soak up His character and allow it to consume us. Fruits of the spirit are our blueprint. Your trials may be bigger than anything I can dream of. I totally get that. I have a friend who lost a child to cancer a few months ago. I have a friend out of work for longer than he ever expected. I have a friend having to give her foster son back to his family after many months of investing in and loving this child as her own. I get it. I do. Bitterness rears its ugly head at times like these. This is when joy has to win though.<br />
As a Christian, times like these are when we are refined and our testimony is on stage for all to witness. Job faced every God forsaken misery on earth but he never stopped pursuing joy and trying to praise God in the very worst of times. Joseph was tossed away into slavery by his brothers because they were jealous of him. He never stopped trusting God and being hopeful. God used those miserable years to save his family in the end. We never know what the reason is, but we can trust a God who does. I just hope I never have to endure that kind of hardship in order to be complete and lacking nothing in God's purpose for my life. <br />
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This picture of Jesus took my breath away. After a long winter of sickness and trying to stay ahead as the new year started it was easy to see my joy beginning to fade. Panic set in for a few days and then this picture hit me. This image came at just the right time. A beautiful reminder that these things are minor in the grand scheme of things and there is nothing my beautiful and capable savior cannot handle. He goes before me. He knows what is around the corner. Trials are His way of making us more useful for his glory.<br />
Someone is watching you today. Watching how you deal with not getting the promotion, watching how you use your free time on the computer at work, watching how you treat the waitress at lunch, watching you respond to the bad news on the other end of the line, watching how you treat your difficult child. Watching how you respond to your elderly parent who needs you more than you have time to give. They are listening to your words spoken in the break room, on the phone with your spouse, and reading the words you post online. The world is watching how we respond and they want to see us do it differently. I want the world to see me smile, laugh and find the best in the worst. <br />
I think some see me as goofy at times. I have been told that professionally. It sorta stings. But you know what, I know who I am in Christ and he has made me to be the smile people need to see and the laughter they need to hear. I am not the best role model by any means but I am striving and trying to be all the He needs me to be. The world is watching and I want them to see Jesus in me and it to look just like this. Friendly and approachable is who I want you to see.<br />
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AbbySistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-21741044568433738902018-01-31T09:41:00.001-06:002018-01-31T09:41:03.911-06:00I love when my child can see answers to his prayers. <br />
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This boy. Oh, this boy. He has a purpose far greater than we realize and I cannot wait to see what God has mapped out for him. It will be anything but boring. Henry is all boy yet more perceptive than anyone I know and with that comes intense awareness of others feelings. He carries others burdens in a way I wish I could bottle up and pour into my own heart some days. He isn't worried like we worry, he is just concerned and hopeful with sweet innocence. It is a beautiful gift he has.<br />
Bath time is a big time of reflection for him. I hear a lot about friends at school and their days during his baths. I am pretty certain these friends have no idea how Henry has grasped onto their day and that he is thinking of them and praying through anything that he picked up as a concern during the day. It makes me laugh sometimes and sometimes it brings me to tears. I wish I could be the type of friend Henry is.<br />
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He had a foster kid at his school leave and come back and the sadness and joy that came with that was something I cannot even express in full. His pure joy to get in the car after school a few weeks ago to yell mama " he's back! he's back!" He is being adopted by a family at his school and it's such a joy to see. Henry prayed for him often and grieved him. I did too. I love when my child can see answers to his prayers. <br />
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He is not ever first pick, he is not the best in anything by the world's standards. He is not invited to parties or play dates often. His circle is big but small, if that makes sense. We like it that way sometimes because we realize what all it is protecting him from in the long run. His physical size does not match his insides. He is a big ole teddy bear. He doesn't make honor roll. He always has a perfect grade in conduct though and that is telling of more than anything else he can do at school. His only A is in conduct. It makes me smile. The thing is, he knows all the answers to the school work usually but he can't get it on paper. He is smarter than people realize due to his fine motor and upper body hurdles he jumps all day.<br />
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But this boy of mine has such an excitement and confidence that amuses us at times. We expect him to bow out or resist certain things due to not knowing anyone there, or seeing others doing it really well, etc.... but then there he is on the basketball court making all the baskets and guarding the net like Shaq when he hasn't even been playing that sport. The boys are all yelling "pass it to Henry!" and I am the mom that yells and claps at practice while the other moms look at me like I must have vodka in my Sonic cup. We stand in awe alot at this boy... and ourselves.<br />
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He knows the make and model of every truck on the road and can usually tell the tire size by glancing at them. I feel like I'm raising Rain Man sometimes. Henry knows all the books of the Bible and the apostles and the fruits of the spirit. He is busy and he is bright and he is bold. I hope he uses all this for good as he matures and makes more decisions on his own. Last night he told me he likes a girl in his class and he wants to get her a Valentine gift. He said they smile at each other and he has "love dreams" about her. God, help me! for real...I almost passed out and needed fresh air. Isn't he still an infant reaching for me to hold him?<br />
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I have not been able to pick him up in about 3+ years. He sits in my lap and it is like having an adult sit on me. He is still a big baby though and I am soaking up every innocent day we have left. Time moves too fast. Henry's laughter is contagious and I hope it stays that way forever. Being kind and laughing all the way is the only way to do this life. If that's all he scores a 100 on, then so be it!<br />
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Abby JoSistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-79577509916169224742018-01-19T08:10:00.000-06:002018-01-19T08:10:12.850-06:00Food Friday: Here Chicky ChickyIt's Food Friday! I am not a huge fan of Chicken noodle soup but with weather like we have had and days couped up in the house, I found myself branching out with what I had on hand. It reminds me of being sick at home by myself as a teenager and opening the can of soup mama had left out on the counter for me before she left for work. It reminds me of having a sore throat or a stopped up nose. It always made me feel bloated. I am weird, but tell me you don't relate things together like this? <br />
Anywho, I ran across this recipe and it was a winner! My guys liked it and it was easy to make. I hope you will try it and pass it along.<br />
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3 cups of cooked chicken (chopped)<br />
8 slices of cooked bacon (crumbled)<br />
1/2 yellow onion (diced)<br />
1 ranch seasoning packet<br />
30 oz chicken broth<br />
put all this in a pot and start to bring to a slow boil.<br />
Add<br />
spaghetti noodles (eyeball them...you chose the amount)<br />
stir them in and let soup heat until noodle are soft.<br />
Add<br />
1 cup milk (or more if you like)<br />
1 cup cheese (or more if you like)<br />
stir all together and serve with Ritz crackers.<br />
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Enjoy!Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-63433014584604859382018-01-18T10:44:00.000-06:002018-01-18T10:47:12.474-06:00What's A Vision Board?Who reading this has a vision casted for yourself in 2018? Well, I have a fun way to cast a vision for yourself, your marriage, your work and your family. I love doing this and haven't done it in a few years. Since we had a ridiculous amount of time inside this week because of the weather, I made one. Henry loved making collages with all the old magazines for his bedroom wall, so it was an activity that both of us enjoyed.<br />
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Maybe you are like Julie and your response to this is," Sister, I don't have a single magazine in my home. I read online. It's 2018. hello." You can make a vision board in several different ways, you don't have to use magazines. I have started a <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/lifewithmysister/vision-board/?eq=vision&etslf=NaN" target="_blank">Pinterest board</a> to help you get your creative juices flowing. Sometimes it is so good for my mental well being just to stop and be crafty and reflect on things that make me happy. As you can see, mine is wordy. I love words. They have so much power. Pictures don't reach me
like words do. Each to their own. What woks for you? That answer is what
you do. I encourage you to do it this weekend!<br />
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Where do you start? Here are some things to ask yourself. What virtue do you want to posses more of, What are your personal, financial, physical, spiritual goals? Who do you want to be? Where do you want to go? What to you want to see?<br />
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Click here to see how to start your own vision board:<br />
https://www.pinterest.com/lifewithmysister/vision-board/?eq=vision&etslf=NaN <br />
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The funny thing about mine having Henry on it in two places is that those came off a Henry's Hard Soda (beer) ad in one of my magazines. it was grape flavored too...which is his favorite flavor. It was perfection! lol. I love laughing and always make sure that's part of my vision. <br />
Everything on mine was cut out of a magazine, even my RE/MAX things. It was a mess in my dining room but one that felt good making. I hope this sparks an interest in you to make one. I would love to see it if you do. <br />
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<i>Abby Jo</i>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0Arkansas, USA35.20105 -91.831833431.8621635 -96.995407399999991 38.5399365 -86.6682594tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-39664484545849598392018-01-13T11:43:00.000-06:002018-01-13T11:43:04.880-06:00How to Start A Blessing Jar For FreeI just love to do fun crafty things. I also love to focus on blessings when and if possible...we all know those times can be hard though. So, a few years ago I started a blessing jar for the year. I cut some paper into strips and put it in the jar with a pen. My goal is for those in my home to stop and jot down a blessing throughout the year. Fold it up and throw it in to the jar. Easy, peasy and fun. <br />
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On New Years Eve we get out the jar and read what was in it. It is comical to recap it all and it is also so cool to see what little things made an impact on us throughout the year. My guys are something else and love to leave things like this in the jar at times.</div>
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What are some fun, interactive ways you get your family focused on their blessings? we would love to hear! <br />
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Abby JoSistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-3256237149688525182018-01-12T08:14:00.000-06:002018-01-12T08:14:03.631-06:00Why do I write with B, L, S beside each day of the week?<div style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0;">
It’s Friday and that means
food!! Back in the day every Friday was Food Friday over here at Life With My Sister . It's time to bring it back!</div>
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Food is one of my favorite subjects. I wake up thinking about my next
three meals, the good thing is, I'm not picky. Fast food, nice
restaurants, eating out, eating in, as long as it involves eating i’m
IN! Especially when it is eating with my sister...she's my fave. </div>
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I lied a little just then.
Eating in really isn’t my favorite thing to do ( sorry, sis!). The cooking, cleaning
up, planning, shopping stink. None of those are things I enjoy. Although, I do
love a bargain and our grocery store has a little clearance section in
the back refrigerated section, and I love it! Yesterday I got a gallon
of milk for $1.00 and eggnog (I have drunk my weight in eggnog this
Christmas season) for 25 cents. A quarter? Are you kidding me? </div>
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Grocery shopping is really at
the bottom of my list of fun things to do. To do it well requires
planning, compiling, making a list (which I love), and taking the list
(which I rarely do), and I’m not good at any of those things! But just
because I’m not good at it doesn’t mean, I don’t do it. I use my phone
to make a list most often, but handwriting a list is what works best for
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I write down each day of the week with B, L, S written beside them, and then fill in the blank with meal ideas. <span class="contextualExtensionHighlight ms-font-color-themePrimary ms-border-color-themePrimary ident_1244_1320" role="button" tabindex="0">Lunch is always easy, because no one is home except for Saturday and Sunday.</span>
After all the blanks are filled, I then make a list on the other side
of the paper listing all the ingredients needed to make this weekly meal
plan work. My biggest hint in grocery shopping is that I make my list
in order of aisles in the store. I start at the back of the store and
work my way forward, at my store the produce is at the front, and I like
to buy it last. </div>
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I know there are many other
ways to grocery shop, and meal plan well, so if you have ideas, things
that work well for you and your family PLEASE share them with us!! </div>
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Julie</div>
Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-6578424719685157792018-01-03T16:57:00.000-06:002018-01-04T00:02:27.908-06:00The Most Overused Hashtag Of 2017<br />
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What a time of reflection the new year brings to us. "Bye, Felicia" was the most overused hastag and witty comeback I have ever typed with my short little fingertips. I don't know Felicia, but that poor girl needs a welcome basket or a party invitation in 2018.<br />
Every 365 days we get a <a href="http://sistersabbyandjulie.blogspot.com/search?q=resolutions" target="_blank">do over</a>. A cold, brisk try again awaits us as the calendar strikes day one. I am quite fond of this slow and cold time of year. It is when I met and fell in love with my <a href="http://sistersabbyandjulie.blogspot.com/2012/02/9-years-of-grins.html" target="_blank">husband</a>. I love the newness and stillness that comes with the brand new year. As wild as it sounds, winter is my favorite time of year. <br />
You know, some years are just plain crazier than others and 2017 was every bit of that. It was my best professional year ever and one of my worst on a personal level. I just plain bombed life as mom and wife. Taking on too many good things that were not my best yes caused me to stink up my reign as queen bee of the Lee 3.<br />
I can blame it on a lot of distraction and things not fitting into my plan just like I wanted. Finding out the struggles Henry has in the classroom that went undetected by a therapist we trusted and paid for two years just flat railroaded me in so many ways. Trusting someone to "fix" your baby to find out they were missing it by a mile while billing you for it too is not easy to accept. Bitterness, anger and impatience flooded my heart. I went into fix it mode and mowed down anyone in my path in order to get <a href="http://sistersabbyandjulie.blogspot.com/2013/12/all-aboard-birthday-polar-express.html" target="_blank">Henry </a>"fixed". My sweet boy has come a long way because of my fierce fight but I left a lot of ugly in my path. I resolve to always be his advocate and cheerleader but hopefully we can master that without the ugly mama rearing her ugly head.<br />
My husband is a saint. If you know him at all you know he has an exterior that makes him appear shy or even callous to some...but he is honestly like a cup of jello or like the Pillsbury dough boy. He is all heart and like Vanilla Ice, if there is a problem, he will solve it! I would not have made it out of 2017 with the successes I had if it were not for him pushing me to be better and picking up the debris of my tornado of a year.<br />
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This year is going to be my new lease on life. I have cut out the things that bogged me down and robbed my joy and stole my time away from what really matters. I wont be selling anything but real estate (because I am actually really good at it and shouldn't dilute it), I won't be volunteering for things that rob me from my first priorities (even if that is beloved church activities that I fear no one else will say yes to if I don't), and you won't see me pushing my child to do things that fit the mold society has set for him just so "we" fit in. <br />
My home is my mission field, my biggest blessing and my top priority. Saying yes to all the good things is not always the right thing. I have read every book about this topic and end up ignoring what I learn, even though it is always right on the tip of my heart nudging at me. This is my do over, my clean slate, my 365 days to focus on what really matters at the end of this life. <br />
I will stop the work flow to play trucks with my boy. I will turn off my phone to watch another episode of Blue Bloods with my honey. I will stop and answer the phone <a href="http://sistersabbyandjulie.blogspot.com/2011/08/its-julias-day.html" target="_blank">when my sister calls </a>and not give her the shadey button. I will laugh more than I complain. I will make my home and my heart a refuge for those entrusted to me.<br />
Now, tomorrow I will wake up and have to be reminded of all this because, just like you, I am all flesh and have to put on that FULL armor of God every dadgum day! If you see me without my shield of faith...come help a <a href="http://sistersabbyandjulie.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">sister</a> out!<br />
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<a href="http://www.jonesborohomesource.com/" target="_blank">Abby Jo </a><br />
<br />Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-12043766126920372222016-09-06T12:13:00.001-05:002016-09-06T12:26:42.694-05:00Just because you can, doesn't mean you should<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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1 Cor 10: 23-24<br />
Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Even as adults we test this truth. We think of kids and how they test the limits. Well, we do it too. For us it looks a little different sometimes. We often want something so bad we will do anything to get it when all the while that something was not meant for us. <br />
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Last week a house went on the market right down the street from us. We have not been looking to move, though we do look at anything that might peak our interest but after over 3 years of doing real estate, we have stayed put. We are not risk takers. We stay near the safety net and tread in the smooth waters as much as we can. Randall insisted we look at this house Friday night. So, we did. We fell in love with it. We stayed forever in it and talked about what we would do to it, etc. We made a formal offer that night. It was a foreclosure so it was up to the bank and it was a holiday so we had to wait.<br />
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Sunday during lunch Randall suggested we drive over to that house and pray inside of it for God's will. We went over and spent an hour in it and fell in love with it even more. We prayed in the doorway, hand in hand. We felt at peace no matter the outcome....but we both really wanted it. <br />
It was a wise investment and nothing like we had ever seen. We were able to do it comfortably and quickly too. We bid over asking price even. We gave it to God but i think we both still had some flesh<br />
in it. We had a wonderful revival at our church a couple weeks ago. The pastor said that just because its better, doesn't mean we need it. It doesn't mean its meant for us. Just because it makes most sense to us doesn't mean it's in God's will. That stuck with us and that is why we prayed in the house Sunday. We didn't go back in it after that, even when our friends wanted to see it, we knew we couldn't open the door to it again unless it was ours.<br />
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This morning my friend and fellow agent representing that house called me baffled at the decision the bank had made. They had rejected our offer. Thrown it out, without a reason. It was the highest and best offer. That's not normal. I smiled and said "God didn't want us in that house." she agreed that it had to be God because it made no sense. Someone else will call that house home, and we will stay put where God wants us to be. I share this to say, just because its bigger, shinier, and affordable doesn't always mean its better. Giving God ALL our decisions even when its hard to loose the grasp on them is worth it in the end. God protected us from something in that house. I don't know what it was, but it is not for me to know. That is where my faith comes into play. I had read the above verses last week several times and claimed them for another area in my life. It was fitting for this one though. God is pretty sneaky like that. <br />
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I am so glad my husband suggested praying over that house Sunday with me, hand in hand. I would hate to think what might have been if we had made our decision without God's will. Thank you, Jesus! We are both at total peace and not upset. I think those who knew about the offer we made are in a bit of shock at how well we have moved on past it today. It's a total God thing because Randall and I are the most high strung people I know and the bank's decision made no sense. To God be the Glory for the great things he has done and will do for us. How do people go through life without the Holy Spirit guiding them? I don't know and don't want to know.<br />
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Abby Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-74858785048243570892016-08-24T14:40:00.003-05:002018-10-24T12:09:48.575-05:00This Is My Story, This Is My SongWe never post anymore because we are full of excuses and no one reads this these days, thanks to the ever updating Facebook and and Instagram. but today while I eat lunch at my computer, why not update it a bit and shake things up on a Wednesday. <br />
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I have been convicted this week. I never share Jesus. Really share Jesus. Like as in asking the hard questions to people in my life who I am not certain really know Him. I think one of the reasons I don't feel bold in my faith is because my story is so vanilla. I mean I barely have sprinkles on top and it may even be sugar free vanilla. I can't let that stop me though. Grace wins whether you are saved as a child or as an adult in prison or a young girl in a pregnancy crisis center or an adult going through the motions. Grace is the same and the blood was shed just the same. So, here is my faith story. <br />
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I was raised in the buckle of the Bible belt in Fort Smith, Arkansas. God's country. One grandfather was a Southern Baptist preacher for over 50 years, the other was a faithful deacon. My grandmothers both served in various roles and one played piano/organ and still serves in her church today in different ministries. My parents were both rooted and watered in Jesus. My sister and I were therefore rooted in that same faith. For that I will be thankful for eternity. i cannot imagine growing up any other way. They lived their faith and spoke of it to us and showed it to us in how they loved us. <br />
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When I was nine years old I fell under conviction on a Sunday morning after church. my parents talked with me that afternoon and led me to the Lord. That Sunday night I walked the aisle with my Daddy and gave my life to Jesus. I was baptized the following week. The night I was saved we went to some friends house after church. It was the 1980's and everyone was social and got together with a covered dish and nothing was fancy and time was not moving as fast. I loved that time and wish we could relive it. Anyway, I remember my daddy stopping the car on the street in front of the house and had me look up at the stars and told me today was my new birthday and God's love and plan for me was more vast than those stars. I remember all the feels, the car, the outfit I had on, the stars that night. everything. I was washed in the blood that day. Do you know I have no memory of the date though. I have no idea if it was spring or fall. It was a bit warm and a bit chilly. Whatever the date, it was real and it was transforming.<br />
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I grew up very active in church and it was the core of my youth basically. Most of my childhood and teenage memories revolve around church and our ministry opportunities and all the fun we had together. We were given so many opportunities to grow our faith and for that I am forever grateful. I lived in a bubble and I'm grateful for it because what was about to hit me later in my youth could have rocked me off my foundation. <br />
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As a college student my cookie cutter Christian private liberal arts university attending life took a turn that rocked me to the core. My parents divorced after 25 years of marriage and it hit like a wrecking ball one afternoon. It was something I don't like remembering. All those feels are not good feels to recap, so I will spare us all the "remembry" of that (as Mrs. Kay says on Duck Dynasty). <br />
I stuffed it all in because I had no other option and became a helper and put my parents needs before my own. My sister sort of made me. She took on a new role with me then. She lived 5 hours away, worked full time and had a husband and a toddler (Sam). We all had to become new players in our family dynamic. I am so glad I learned to help and I saw all the ugly tears and fears. It made me who I am today. At the time I thought I would never make it out whole but now I smile at that girl working long hours at a bank while her friends were at college living it up and that girl who knew what she was missing because she had just been there with them. I admire that girl who moved her mama and her daddy on in life in those next few years while she was moving herself on and had no idea how to do it other than lean on Jesus. I learned to be a giver and not a taker. God molded me into who he wanted me to be for Him through that dark, sad time. My family is "refurbished" and though it is not like it was, it moves on and we all forge ahead and thank God for restoring things exactly as He saw fit. We may have been crushed by bad choices at that time but God helped me remember Whose I was and what steps to take out of it. We are a family who leans on humor to work through tough times. I am so thankful for laughter and that those two souls who claim us as their girls were rooted deep in the beginning and in turn taught us to lean in hard, laugh and never stop living for Jesus. <br />
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I took the higher road out of that situation and finished college after a 9 month stay working full time at home to get myself off in the world again. I got married shortly after college and here I am. I am married to a man who also came from a broken home yet his was broken as a small child. Our stories are so different yet that split is the same feel. Our family dynamics are totally different though. Like I could write a book and you would totally read it too. We forge ahead and try to beat the odds for Henry. We are watering the roots for him hoping he will flourish in his faith also. This is my faith story. It's vanilla compared to so many but its mine. Thank you, Jesus. He saves no matter what you have done or where you came from. He's Jesus to all of us, not just some of us. He died for everyone and no one is more righteous than He is. He has healed my damaged emotions and I am thankful for His hand on my life. <br />
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Do you know Him?<br />
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<i>Abby</i><br />
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<br />Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-19465812379386113502016-02-22T12:37:00.001-06:002016-02-22T12:37:42.406-06:00An Extra Day!It's an election year, do you know what that means? It's Leap Year! An extra day has been given to us so let's do something special with it. <div><br></div><div>It's a special gift, even though it's a Monday this year. Let's do something special with the day. Here are some ideas for how to spend our extra day, February 29! </div><div><br></div><div>1. Fold clothes for a foster family. </div><div>2. Donate $29 (for the 29th) to your local pregnancy resource center. </div><div>3. Volunteer at a local elementary school. </div><div>4. Pay for the car behind you in the drive-thru line. </div><div>5. Take a dessert to your local Fire Department. </div><div>6. Write letters to soldiers overseas. </div><div>7. Volunteer at an animal shelter</div><div>8. Pick up trash at a park. </div><div>9. Leave quarters on washing machines at a laundromat. </div><div>10. Donate $29 to your church's missionary orginazation (IMB, NAMB)</div><div>11. Provide dinner for a foster family. </div><div>12. Leave an extra tip for your waiter/waitress at lunch/dinner. </div><div>13. Have a special dinner just for your family, no electronics allowed. </div><div>14. Send your child's teacher, counselor, principal, school secretary a note & gift. </div><div>15. If you know someone that has a birthday on the 29th, take them a cake, a balloon, or a gift! It's a once-every-29 years-day. </div><div>16. Take a sweet treat to the police department. </div><div>17. Invite a neighbor over for dinner. </div><div>18. Stick a $5 bill and a nice note in a Redbox movie you're returning. </div><div>19. Send cute cards to patients at a children's hospital. </div><div> 20. If it's your garbage day, leave a sweet treat or a canned Coke for your garbage guys. </div><div>21. Leave a nice card, or a sweet treat for your mailman. </div><div>22. Visit an elderly person that doesn't have family nearby. </div><div>24. Send a giftcard to your pastor. </div><div>25. Have family game night. </div><div>26. Take a sweet treat to a neighbor. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div>27. Volunteer at a food pantry. </div><div>28. Smile at everyone you see. </div><div>29. Pray and read your Bible for 29 minutes longer than you normally do. </div><div><br></div><div>Let me know how you spend your extra day this year!</div><div><br></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-29172910109725822852016-02-10T11:44:00.001-06:002016-02-10T13:20:32.418-06:00A Tale of Football, Baseball, and RedemptionGod works in our lives in ways we can't imagine or see at the time it's happening. I've wished so many times to be able to look ahead and see how everything works out in a particular situation. I know so many times the outcome is never what I would have imagined in the onset. This story is no different. The fact that I'm able to look back on the last eleven years and see God work is a gift from Him. I challenge you to look back on your life, your circumstances and see how God worked in your life. <div><br><div>Many years ago Stephen and I made the decision that our children wouldn't play sports on Sunday. (Stephen made the decision and I agreed with it) It was an easy decision to make with him being a pastor and an obligation to be at our church on Sunday. It was also an easy decision because the opportunity of playing on Sunday had never presented itself to us, however we saw the popularity of travel baseball teams on the rise and knew the subject would come up sooner, rather than later. </div></div><div><br></div><div>When Samuel was 7, he made the all-star baseball team for the league he played in. We were very proud of his success in the field. It felt like he was ready to play in the major leagues! This was the first year we were brought face to face with the decision we had made. The bracket was made up so that we played a Sunday afternoon game. We explained to Samuel that he wasn't going to play that game and he was at peace with the decision. The next three years were the same way. Our team played on Sunday without Samuel at first base. The fourth year, when Samuel was 10, our team was really good. Really good. We were playing in a town two hours away and if we won on Saturday night we would play Sunday at 11:00. We won. And we drove home, while everyone else stayed. We would drive back on Monday if they won Sunday without us there. I cried all the way home. It was dark, no one saw my tears but I was devastated for Samuel. He handled the situation with grace that belied a 10 year old boy. I wish I could have. I fussed, and screamed at God for this decision that "we" had made and let Him know of my disappointment for the whole two hours. We returned to the tournament Monday, Samuel sat in the dugout the whole game with his glove on ready to play and never got the opportunity. It was the price he had to pay for his parents decision. </div><div><br></div><div>We pulled all of our children out of baseball when Samuel was 13. The league we were playing in was changing the way it had been organized for years and not playing on Sunday's was becoming a bigger complication than we cared to handle, for ourselves, our children, and the teams they were on. </div><div><br></div><div>Now baseball is Samuel's first love. He was playing baseball by himself in our yard when he was 3, throwing a ball up, hitting it and running the bases. He loved the sport, and not allowing him to play broke his heart a little, but once again he handled with such grace. </div><div><br></div><div>To add to the story, we homeschool. Which meant in Arkansas he couldn't play any school sports. That wasn't a big deal because he never wanted to play basketball or football and they didn't have baseball until 10th grade. The closer we got to 10th grade, it became a bigger deal! </div><div><br></div><div>As <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I look back on what happened next I can see God working in our lives and in our circumstances. We had moved to a new city when Samuel was in the eighth grade. It was a bigger city, with bigger schools and we only knew very few people. The summer before his 10th grade year the organization that oversees all athletic activities for the state decided that homeschool students could play sports if they took one academic class. It was a prayer answered! I needed someone to teach him geometry and he could play baseball. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I took him to school on the first day, met the coach, and left him for his first practice. His first high school practice and his first practice in 3 years. He made the team after a rough start, and he loved it! He loved the coaches and the sport. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">The summer before his junior year the football coach ran into Stephen and asked if Samuel could kick. Stephen said probably and he would send him to practice. He made the team as the kicker. He made All-Conference in baseball and football his junior year while still being homeschooled except for a math class that he took at the public school. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">His senior year he made All-State in football and was recruited by 3 colleges. Our minds were blown. He signed with a Division 1 college to be a kicker! It's unbelievable. But when I look back at how God worked through everything I'm more in awe of Him than ever before. God redeemed the tears I cried on that Saturday night drive home from a 10 year old's baseball tournament. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">A decision we made as parents, ( that Stephen made as a proactive, God-honoring father), was redeemed with a full scholarship to play football in college. Now football was never a dream of Samuel's. Strangely, it was my dream. I love football, and the opening kickoff is my favorite part of the game, that my son would play is pretty perfect in my world. (And next year we'll have one playing high school football and one playing college football) Football is however, a sport with a ball, competition, and a team, all things Samuel loves with his whole heart. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I truly believe that making and honoring a vow we made to God to honor His Sabbath day, brought all of this to fruition. We moved to a new city under some pretty distressing circumstances, the athletic director of the school district we just happened to live in, is a faithful Christian man, the football coach was a man that had umpired Samuel's baseball games and someone we had known for over five years. Lastly, Samuel is a man after God's heart. I don't write that lightly. He has never once waivered from his devotion, love, or commitment to Christ. He has stood firm with his teammates, friends, coaches and even us about his convictions and commitment to living a God-honoring life. Don't get me wrong. Please! He has made mistakes. But all in all he has stayed out of trouble and has a good reputation. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">We are so thankful to the Lord, our God. Thank you for Your watchful eye, for Your guiding hand, for Your wisdom and grace. We love you Lord, and want to do what honors and pleases You. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Ps. I am in no way saying that Samuel received a scholarship because of the decision we made. This isn't a story of a prosperity gospel, it's a story of God working in our lives. God would still be as awesome as He is today if Samuel had not been invited to play any college sport or if he had not lettered. We praise and love the Lord no matter our circumstances. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-61516986921694260782015-12-01T23:22:00.001-06:002015-12-01T23:29:50.525-06:00Christmas Count Down<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EYFDeRw3KaadzNQFpDmB8Oc6knyLjneDldqtndEvAwfEtZuqQaJP5pPkFprlnmVpg1mISSyeKWQ02Perx9z5VgaVKHaBPEXwUADUgXK_Gol6NcJhAHJw32BfGHFtvbDuxsg13shiVGE/s640/blogger-image-239741654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EYFDeRw3KaadzNQFpDmB8Oc6knyLjneDldqtndEvAwfEtZuqQaJP5pPkFprlnmVpg1mISSyeKWQ02Perx9z5VgaVKHaBPEXwUADUgXK_Gol6NcJhAHJw32BfGHFtvbDuxsg13shiVGE/s640/blogger-image-239741654.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We love counting down the days to Christmas in this house. We have advent two ways. A Chocolate advent calendar is one of then. We always had one growing up. One year mama couldn't find chocolate so we had tiny little toys in each window. It was very odd and we were ready to rush through that one! Julie and I took turns opening the days each year. One had even days and one had odd days. I was so glad when she married and moved away because it was all mine then! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Julie and I carry on the tradition with our kiddos. It's loved by them as much as it was with us. It's so fun to keep that tradition going. How many calendars have we hoarded up in our deep freezers over the years thinking we would never find any again?! We are serious about the chocolate advent calendar. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don't do the Elf on the Shelf. I love admiring those that do. It's really cute. I just can't get a peace about it for us. What we do works and Henry loves it like it is...and we do too. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvHsx2Mxgs9fvwsw7r72y78zcIUFtsqESiEzryRU8A7iMgSXrAc-kAqs4uQ6Tv5KT08WvgiznBckJKOmyfOJPjTvo2MS30kQb8_btO_dQtPDXlpovR8f3t0lmUQkmdI4F99FkCjvQjpI/s640/blogger-image--1257223435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvHsx2Mxgs9fvwsw7r72y78zcIUFtsqESiEzryRU8A7iMgSXrAc-kAqs4uQ6Tv5KT08WvgiznBckJKOmyfOJPjTvo2MS30kQb8_btO_dQtPDXlpovR8f3t0lmUQkmdI4F99FkCjvQjpI/s640/blogger-image--1257223435.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At our house we celebrate the real meaning of advent with a Jesse Tree. We add an ornament a day with a family devotion that shows the lineage of Jesus. It's really great and Henry knows more about the lineage of Jesus than I ever did at his age. He looks forward to it. We read some scripture, apply the story to our lives, pray and we always sing. Tonight it was creation and we discussed that Jesus is the light of the world. We sang this little light of mine and Henry ran around doing all the motions trying to blow mine out. I love these precious times and it convicts me that we don't do it more throughout the year. </div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMAh-fWMVi3siPsNpH4RFwgxO9zTNUbtEKQHlizL1mjwNYd9aYXFkz5k5iMDp2TrfeZO6gCPE3gUIOHFg7ilNSoRlB_VtrKxFdc-AhkJgntE6LqwAnIFiv0UxL6Wd7s5Alk8XuKofnrI/s640/blogger-image-623206319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMAh-fWMVi3siPsNpH4RFwgxO9zTNUbtEKQHlizL1mjwNYd9aYXFkz5k5iMDp2TrfeZO6gCPE3gUIOHFg7ilNSoRlB_VtrKxFdc-AhkJgntE6LqwAnIFiv0UxL6Wd7s5Alk8XuKofnrI/s640/blogger-image-623206319.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This year I'm adding this reading. It's serving as my daily advent devotion as I prepare my heart for Christmas. I remember ugly sob crying to Randall one year not long after we had married because I missed christmas. I let the stress, the planning and the activity keep my heart from experiencing Christmas that year. Ever since that year he watches me and prods me away from the traps that can grab me this time of year. I am also more aware since then. I am going to enjoy this book as part of my advent this year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What advent traditions do you have? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">How do you count down the days to Christmas? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Abby</div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-41000765064400608072015-10-24T22:54:00.001-05:002015-10-25T02:26:48.206-05:00Judgement HouseThis time every year the church our kids attend for children and youth functions has a drama called Judgement House. It's a walking drama with several scenes that tell the story of several people and their decision to accept Christ or not. <div><br></div><div>Many people make a life changing decision during Judgement House and accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior. The boys have been involved in some way every year since 2012. They love being a part of something that has a lasting impact on people, and they love being with their friends!</div><div><br></div><div>This year, Daniel played a lead role (he did last year also), David played a Roman guard, and Samuel had a one line role. Daniel practiced his lines for weeks, he always wants to do the best job possible, and he delivers! David is the tallest of our three boys, and was an intimidating figure as a Roman guard. Samuel had a busy week with Homecoming festivities and was only able to be at JH for two nights, but his one line was a needed one. </div><div><br></div><div>We've been through a lot of changes as a family the last few years, but one thing that has not changed is the love our children have for the Lord. They desire to spend time with people that love the Lord, and to learn more about Him. Don't ever underestimate children/students. When they can see evidence of God at work, they might just want to know more about Him and be a part of His work. Whenever possible make sure your children see you give God the glory and praise for what God does in your life. Whether it's a promotion at work, money for a bill that needed to be paid, or a prayer that has been answered, share it with your children so they can see God at work around them. </div><div><br></div><div>Julie</div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-78257417340185183852015-10-21T09:00:00.001-05:002015-10-21T09:00:02.379-05:00Parent/Teacher ConferenceNow that all of the boys are attending school in some way or another, parent/teacher conferences are a real thing for us this year. <div><br></div><div>For the last two years Samuel had one class each year so our parent/teacher conferences were quick and easy, not too painful. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnFH0hYqwwD12mjIs8-jhwpAX9O2gta-_xAcdlWhGkgXHfyVZm6l4CHT1fbzwzp57RIeX6Mp70lkwgAOCAOZnH3G4sbgpVrMsNmw8MAuDXmKgoesssEWEfRw3NStJRxcQv5DySdnr-0Q/s640/blogger-image-593138197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnFH0hYqwwD12mjIs8-jhwpAX9O2gta-_xAcdlWhGkgXHfyVZm6l4CHT1fbzwzp57RIeX6Mp70lkwgAOCAOZnH3G4sbgpVrMsNmw8MAuDXmKgoesssEWEfRw3NStJRxcQv5DySdnr-0Q/s640/blogger-image-593138197.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This year Samuel is taking a full days worth of classes, so I had several teachers to meet and visit. I enjoyed meeting them, putting a face to the name and figuring out how best to help Samuel do well this year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwm3a1aC8zCLJ1q2XCF-ksKWM2ucai2j3fKFcYPmAGkXSxOiWBJLlhVNjIrRYDicIXtzh-KJZc1TbShZ1opOojXStXz6y8lkRooECkPQ_75g3cpzvrK-1GDn-S2S2fHYkcADL6paOuao/s640/blogger-image--1196059818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwm3a1aC8zCLJ1q2XCF-ksKWM2ucai2j3fKFcYPmAGkXSxOiWBJLlhVNjIrRYDicIXtzh-KJZc1TbShZ1opOojXStXz6y8lkRooECkPQ_75g3cpzvrK-1GDn-S2S2fHYkcADL6paOuao/s640/blogger-image--1196059818.jpg"></a></span><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwm3a1aC8zCLJ1q2XCF-ksKWM2ucai2j3fKFcYPmAGkXSxOiWBJLlhVNjIrRYDicIXtzh-KJZc1TbShZ1opOojXStXz6y8lkRooECkPQ_75g3cpzvrK-1GDn-S2S2fHYkcADL6paOuao/s640/blogger-image--1196059818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25zXB5GFRR1rzn0C3yofGu2y0Umf0LyAX6O6baQN5_P4HGEtTjGgPOFOJ7LhEIhQoaXY58dHYTsTV545WvAJvWnHqxLXbkI9ypEmhMgki7HwRSlkrF2_xp0_lsVpghJ8NpkPAyqkcNOQ/s640/blogger-image-912370871.jpg"></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">I visited with David and Daniel's teacher, and she made me smile. She has worked really hard at telling them apart and getting to know their personalities. I can't tell you how much that meant to me. Public school teachers get a bad rap, they have a tough job, but the ones I met last night have the best interest of our students at heart. </div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">Our boys are doing good in school, they've made the transition well and have good grades. So far so good. </div></div><br></div><br></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-11903357086890337462015-10-15T16:00:00.001-05:002015-10-17T19:28:50.118-05:00Awana AnnaAnna loves Awana. She has been in it since Cubbies, when she was three years old. She learned to memorize short parts of key verses in the Bible. As she got older and progressed in Awana the verses got harder and she heard the words "word perfect." <div><br></div><div>Word perfect is how she insists on saying her verses to her leaders. The rules for memorization allow he students to have two helps when reciting the verses, but that will not do for her. She must recite me with no helps and no mistakes. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplD7UERngp9-SYI8J-3vcNei5ljnBlylMwhdr3ztl_eR3ECT27hxIbnAJXbrmOiIM2ooRexq55dJV0D2CY_HDh5fEZPJSQB04nx8U7TusUfUujZsPeW_YNYrTXzPvPIaNRzhA3JlUkAw/s640/blogger-image-1432360066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplD7UERngp9-SYI8J-3vcNei5ljnBlylMwhdr3ztl_eR3ECT27hxIbnAJXbrmOiIM2ooRexq55dJV0D2CY_HDh5fEZPJSQB04nx8U7TusUfUujZsPeW_YNYrTXzPvPIaNRzhA3JlUkAw/s640/blogger-image-1432360066.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She has memorized over 100 verses and has truly hidden them in her heart. When we have Bible study she can give book and chapter to a lot of the subjects we cover. It's amazing! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-w6EbLUi-ZWNEvW6cwx0RRo8-A790LlGIExS5Fu5VnaQlr3gWcgruZvIkjxNWWtHN4l-OMqbiX7Mq-d7_SlY2Ydf86B_cMLMtrKTcjL7DFSaIMFOwlHKHv5dBlJm2-GY82GWIGQDzwBg/s640/blogger-image--1467963443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-w6EbLUi-ZWNEvW6cwx0RRo8-A790LlGIExS5Fu5VnaQlr3gWcgruZvIkjxNWWtHN4l-OMqbiX7Mq-d7_SlY2Ydf86B_cMLMtrKTcjL7DFSaIMFOwlHKHv5dBlJm2-GY82GWIGQDzwBg/s640/blogger-image--1467963443.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Today we were checking out at Dollar Tree and talking about memorizing verses and having to miss church and the Bible lesson that was going to be taught. The clerk stopped us and let her know how special she thought Anna was and how refreshing it was to hear a teenager speak of Christ and learning about Him. Oh, how my heart smiled. I love what the Lord is doing in her heart and I pray that she keeps Him close to her. </div></div><br></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-60425115168578854712015-10-15T11:31:00.001-05:002015-10-15T23:36:13.545-05:00The Year of SamuelOur favorite sit-com right now is The Middle. Do you watch it? It could be based on our little family. We call Samuel and Stephen by their tv counterparts names most of the time. The daughter on the show is having The Year of Sue, Sue is her name, and that made me think that this is the Year of Samuel. <div><br></div><div>Please don't think I'm ignoring our other three children. They are being loved on, given attention to, praised, and adored. It just happens that this is Samuel's senior <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">year and it takes up a lot of our thought and time! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Saturday we found out he has been accepted two colleges, Sunday he turned 18. I'm not emotionally stable enough for these things to happen so close together! I cry. A lot. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8YgLh9HuVbJUigrKSgTnWyW4xM8ZMMIeyVZwVG3NLXfGQevtjn6xD3X2kWD8Ss_SfF-5fOOb7VqYjJfPYBJib0RZrQHRwas2rNXGt61QRuRrGOatcSlMuADcGsOch4PPPwZNotwQ_iLY/s640/blogger-image--71598154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8YgLh9HuVbJUigrKSgTnWyW4xM8ZMMIeyVZwVG3NLXfGQevtjn6xD3X2kWD8Ss_SfF-5fOOb7VqYjJfPYBJib0RZrQHRwas2rNXGt61QRuRrGOatcSlMuADcGsOch4PPPwZNotwQ_iLY/s640/blogger-image--71598154.jpg"></a></div> Wednesday night Samuel was inducted into the National Honor Society. When we first got the letter saying that he was eligible to be in the NHS, Stephen and I looked at each other and just laughed! The kid has been homeschooled for 11 years! Taught by me! I couldn't imagine that he could be honored in such a way. We were so proud. (We won't talk about the 60 pounds Stephen has lost and that those are David's pants he's wearing)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEijx_MipolVBz8dkK59PKnL8hh6hVV0VjFgcJ0rRg4IKVnHP8ozYojXxOaDfmsmgAts5l7roL_VF1KK4nHbkkVmLetBcFipu2fWqA7oFm_qJjC-pXR4f99y3Y7-ogwm4ZxbW953TvhVc/s640/blogger-image-2052539935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEijx_MipolVBz8dkK59PKnL8hh6hVV0VjFgcJ0rRg4IKVnHP8ozYojXxOaDfmsmgAts5l7roL_VF1KK4nHbkkVmLetBcFipu2fWqA7oFm_qJjC-pXR4f99y3Y7-ogwm4ZxbW953TvhVc/s640/blogger-image-2052539935.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If you've been reading here anytime at all you'll know that my picture taking skills are, well, not very good. This is the picture I got of him shaking hands with the principal. I'll enter it in the fair next year! Ha!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmvfiNuUUY_Y0O-4V8S4crmGbiFMghiXu2hM0iqhzFhq147Ouoy3ktD0bUoKJT5TiLQZzUoifs9XIMH1KG_2F9Q-zR0GWsMbx7gCYkvoQPG4DYH08MAGDqfcNLpo873hS2P4YEZytGd5M/s640/blogger-image-1538526323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmvfiNuUUY_Y0O-4V8S4crmGbiFMghiXu2hM0iqhzFhq147Ouoy3ktD0bUoKJT5TiLQZzUoifs9XIMH1KG_2F9Q-zR0GWsMbx7gCYkvoQPG4DYH08MAGDqfcNLpo873hS2P4YEZytGd5M/s640/blogger-image-1538526323.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">These two. Aaron is the 3rd baseman and Samuel plays 1st, we never see these two together without hats on. His mom and I were so excited to see them both with hair we had to get a picture!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm2HrjaSoTsY0-nbPbnyYSVebe9gz4CIG47uzB2Ve3Ochv4f6Zi8HW8BdCIovWUwkDbIR-sutoAf0Ry9ade5Bp3i06tR91-GnRwR_hdcF5Fs5MWq2bbTFVftcZzZmiMUrW1C-CmwY8eFo/s640/blogger-image--183707033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm2HrjaSoTsY0-nbPbnyYSVebe9gz4CIG47uzB2Ve3Ochv4f6Zi8HW8BdCIovWUwkDbIR-sutoAf0Ry9ade5Bp3i06tR91-GnRwR_hdcF5Fs5MWq2bbTFVftcZzZmiMUrW1C-CmwY8eFo/s640/blogger-image--183707033.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And if you know my in-laws at all, you aren't surprised that when Charlie found out around noon that this was happening at 6:00, he hopped in his car and came on down. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So the year of Samuel has begun with a bang! He's still kicking the ball on Friday nights and was 3rd in the state for last weeks games. He's loving life! He's loving school! And he's loving Jesus! The last one is the one I'm most proud of. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Julie</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></span></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-82747340754317095362015-10-04T17:41:00.001-05:002015-10-07T23:29:28.806-05:00Aunt Abby's Girl<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvcJCqQzjNYYUaYvu0IbpJgKObvST28J3YPV_FVzNAdYX27ZdDneMokBXChspuq7J-vjIxporuQZWYZCs_H6-w7wKGFi2ynuD5Wp03hWZwr2q26vIX8G1QNlQhN9Ti19d8yqzwVnOyJ2Q/s640/blogger-image--727488793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvcJCqQzjNYYUaYvu0IbpJgKObvST28J3YPV_FVzNAdYX27ZdDneMokBXChspuq7J-vjIxporuQZWYZCs_H6-w7wKGFi2ynuD5Wp03hWZwr2q26vIX8G1QNlQhN9Ti19d8yqzwVnOyJ2Q/s640/blogger-image--727488793.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I had a fun 48 hours this past week with our best girl, Anna Kathryn. Julie and I met in Beebe for the exchange of our sweet little princess. Everyone asked her "what about your school?" while she was with me. She and I would answer, "the perks of homeschool". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I exposed her to the chiropractor. She watched my chiro twist, pop and electrically stimulate me. I told Anna that Mawmaw used to make me go to the toning bed with her and I turned out just fine...she'd be ok! Then I had to explain to her what a toning bed was. Fun times. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLuwfLcaBUJTLQf10h60qv7OIFZcm-HYYtyqA-riMHQcA-ckWZUwTU-yvlHFXqwkN02KuDzz_GjEgI3f_zyvjhwpmLwaSj-36f5YAAu0vYCo4gTyNDVi9aeaLrunqpi9d80jBLy22Czg/s640/blogger-image--141984277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLuwfLcaBUJTLQf10h60qv7OIFZcm-HYYtyqA-riMHQcA-ckWZUwTU-yvlHFXqwkN02KuDzz_GjEgI3f_zyvjhwpmLwaSj-36f5YAAu0vYCo4gTyNDVi9aeaLrunqpi9d80jBLy22Czg/s640/blogger-image--141984277.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Henry loves his "Milky" and couldn't wait to get out of school to see her with me in carline. His sweet OT that sees him at school two days a week for fine motor therapy told me he was excited about Anna coming all day. It made me smile. He sure loves his cousins and he and Anna have a special little bond. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-Fk79qKPq8x7cerzyGKUaHYkYHVB9G4STGIau8uEylvbKnHIqzG4IBnqI3hIUPfuXwtdKhiBhJATKFt0vH-DSr4YRL7BOxVGZk2tPpMTZOEDtULNC4owb3U4cWcPF-_ehDJkOFaPetU/s640/blogger-image-680937977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-Fk79qKPq8x7cerzyGKUaHYkYHVB9G4STGIau8uEylvbKnHIqzG4IBnqI3hIUPfuXwtdKhiBhJATKFt0vH-DSr4YRL7BOxVGZk2tPpMTZOEDtULNC4owb3U4cWcPF-_ehDJkOFaPetU/s640/blogger-image-680937977.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anna loves Chic fil a. We got cupcakes and went and ate the Christian chicken before church on Wednesday night. Anna is in Awana also so she went with Henry and was able to do her book work with our TNT girls. She had a lot of fun. Henry was so proud to have her with him at church. He won candy for bringing a visitor too. It pleased my heart also. I just love being an aunt to Julie's children. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uhoz_Wsw17S5ZSt014o9_y8tXdquvH-pWk-GrfiEqmm5JsOK0TZsqnJj5IzN77OkDjTauDDZF58qnrMUPz-ZFWgBCzqlNfvSYtriL84HguHLkvv2RYYnAqegreUhvk-B-lOcqrH_cSw/s640/blogger-image-621118682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uhoz_Wsw17S5ZSt014o9_y8tXdquvH-pWk-GrfiEqmm5JsOK0TZsqnJj5IzN77OkDjTauDDZF58qnrMUPz-ZFWgBCzqlNfvSYtriL84HguHLkvv2RYYnAqegreUhvk-B-lOcqrH_cSw/s640/blogger-image-621118682.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The real reason Anna was with me was for the Toby Mac concert tickets I had purchased for she and I to attend in Memphis. The girl is cray cray about some T Mac. A few months ago I called to tell her I had purchased the tickets and she squealed and cried. She is such a girl. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpuMKT3Z1KxPlmqBLHjD2U_wZF53F6yC0bFfGcuCJ6Kg1ULWNoK7yeO1KKWabyXVRMhmMaiNY8DpzNOz4gsZxySQy_0nu6jHmsa8CxEgahB7TkoCmwYVQkepVa8-l-OFJQFuthgK4CQ8/s640/blogger-image-418978856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpuMKT3Z1KxPlmqBLHjD2U_wZF53F6yC0bFfGcuCJ6Kg1ULWNoK7yeO1KKWabyXVRMhmMaiNY8DpzNOz4gsZxySQy_0nu6jHmsa8CxEgahB7TkoCmwYVQkepVa8-l-OFJQFuthgK4CQ8/s640/blogger-image-418978856.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We went to the new Cheesecake Factory in Memphis before the concert and to get her a halloween costume. She's gonna be Snow White. We had some fun girl time together. I had aunts who invested in me, I want to be guilty of doing the same for my sister's children. Being their only aunt, the task is big. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> I'll also need a girl to take care of me when I'm old too...let's be real here! ;) </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We did a dirty deed and texted Marmie and Julie and told them Anna had thrown away the tickets by mistake and we couldn't get into the concert. We laughed so hard at their responses, then we said "just joking". When my sister's children describe their aunt, they usually include the word "crazy" in the description.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncEoCJaPkwMEcTk_elJpjx7Fwv2iClckjNgvdZfZFirMnjNaqXKf0-Na5SBNJHWZ4_Tj-Ry2kh1Agi1edgShGG9GfW016YtGNwAt2hePqIUgKYBualxOm-WmCEAqfveoK7p6OVgPtYjw/s640/blogger-image--1484016720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncEoCJaPkwMEcTk_elJpjx7Fwv2iClckjNgvdZfZFirMnjNaqXKf0-Na5SBNJHWZ4_Tj-Ry2kh1Agi1edgShGG9GfW016YtGNwAt2hePqIUgKYBualxOm-WmCEAqfveoK7p6OVgPtYjw/s640/blogger-image--1484016720.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We made it to the concert 1 hour before it started and all was right in Anna's world. She was so glad to finally get there and find our seats. I loved watching her excitement. I texted Julie and said , "oh to be with an 11 year old girl at a concert". <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Nothing like it. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiluJp3ZAxpf64WA71y0nY8jjm6chT3f2L8WQWBSmYloqwLW2KVCSKJMeFFn61aQAmN6A5BKYTBIKD7-JtPteBRuBMZgndiDv4niDZox0xM38qe71STesOzzioU2OwzTf2pwr0oWkvASQA/s640/blogger-image-979878582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiluJp3ZAxpf64WA71y0nY8jjm6chT3f2L8WQWBSmYloqwLW2KVCSKJMeFFn61aQAmN6A5BKYTBIKD7-JtPteBRuBMZgndiDv4niDZox0xM38qe71STesOzzioU2OwzTf2pwr0oWkvASQA/s640/blogger-image-979878582.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I never felt like a middle aged mom until this concert. When the smoke and lights and bass started booming it confirmed to me I am truly old. I loved watching her though. She stod for 3.5 hours and sang most every song Colton Dixon, Britt Nicole, Hollyn and Toby Mac sang. I knew more than I thought, so I joined in when I could. She isn't old enough to be embarrassed yet, thankfully! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-YJGoI-BaemC17D-kGhteZW66mPqZQOn37jepE6anNWT53Mencp9Km8TIpHs2nvpgK37vqgv6k2qBffKi62tlqqANDf3hRap3JRYPudXYQEvhHs2dh3OHLCzrYE2SMogEPwQFRv2wns/s640/blogger-image--1637454268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-YJGoI-BaemC17D-kGhteZW66mPqZQOn37jepE6anNWT53Mencp9Km8TIpHs2nvpgK37vqgv6k2qBffKi62tlqqANDf3hRap3JRYPudXYQEvhHs2dh3OHLCzrYE2SMogEPwQFRv2wns/s640/blogger-image--1637454268.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anna with Toby Mac's drummer. She goes "he was rubbing my back like the whole time!" LOL. I made the night with this picture. We had no idea who he was but I could tell he was somebody important by the crowds around him and those shoes, so I scurried her over to him and said "smile". Later he came on stage and gave his testimony and we both looked at each other in awe. Score! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAg4Lst9N3plqB6ixm-QgYvUGX-DwzNrk98VBZ60-Ltr9jljw8amzL7rGkvFQRDb5yS1YAlTTCnjnNkW_-10_vc6AQueZZxMplBWjmuTcSb3egLut9N1WI4N-0EI5r_IaJ1OpbhjFGX8/s640/blogger-image--1461337321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAg4Lst9N3plqB6ixm-QgYvUGX-DwzNrk98VBZ60-Ltr9jljw8amzL7rGkvFQRDb5yS1YAlTTCnjnNkW_-10_vc6AQueZZxMplBWjmuTcSb3egLut9N1WI4N-0EI5r_IaJ1OpbhjFGX8/s640/blogger-image--1461337321.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I was sad to meet my big sister back in Beebe to trade her off, but homeschoolers have to school still yet. Henry got home that night from school and declared he missed "Milky" and we agreed we missed her too. I'm so glad we had this fun time together to remember forever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9HVu_yblp69YMehiMID1G7ElPSN6kA4JHqVUN4-eP9otU9DHaZFIPVHoaWb08i-DfVgTT-UZjh37Zp4DakxGc3LbC0vAEli90Tx2pQD-ZaoaxeEYO-lfUVzJeGM21SfYy80fU096S5U/s640/blogger-image-1523438677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9HVu_yblp69YMehiMID1G7ElPSN6kA4JHqVUN4-eP9otU9DHaZFIPVHoaWb08i-DfVgTT-UZjh37Zp4DakxGc3LbC0vAEli90Tx2pQD-ZaoaxeEYO-lfUVzJeGM21SfYy80fU096S5U/s640/blogger-image-1523438677.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Aunt Abby </div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-44713471832289795002015-09-27T22:06:00.001-05:002015-09-27T22:28:10.351-05:00We Faired Well<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4AekwMEWY2OCPmSDGCowMezczVUqqtY2P5YM79oaFjcl80Zaw-0C6vOTosYyO4FAdzgcVkyCO6LgKg3CV8_kUGaadKouUPq5QzhATZNnZVy8mIREBadxeyhRkPT2r5M_43CmrOa07S4/s640/blogger-image--986522675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4AekwMEWY2OCPmSDGCowMezczVUqqtY2P5YM79oaFjcl80Zaw-0C6vOTosYyO4FAdzgcVkyCO6LgKg3CV8_kUGaadKouUPq5QzhATZNnZVy8mIREBadxeyhRkPT2r5M_43CmrOa07S4/s640/blogger-image--986522675.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The White County Fair in Searcy on Moster Truck night is a tradition for we 3 Lee's. It's a 1hour 20 min drive for us. Randall's plane from Iowa landed in Jonesboro around 5:00 and we ran home for him to change his clothes....he picked his best redneck shirt for the occasion to ensure he fit in real good. That's my man! LOL . <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">We rolled in right as it started, after stopping off at the Bulldog in Bald Knob for supper, of course. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUuImZLmiirMjv1heuGEApLjKxXxc2GbkNxFtAo2ZCQb5FTynf7wNl30vzzADnbMDDsBpk_RUcblEgkVsCvgti7wJ3sFktA2JpeTsoqwCNA5tAPM4fUtTfucHxnNY5ZR6MTsdpTicTFk/s640/blogger-image--1902671609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUuImZLmiirMjv1heuGEApLjKxXxc2GbkNxFtAo2ZCQb5FTynf7wNl30vzzADnbMDDsBpk_RUcblEgkVsCvgti7wJ3sFktA2JpeTsoqwCNA5tAPM4fUtTfucHxnNY5ZR6MTsdpTicTFk/s640/blogger-image--1902671609.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This guy was more into the rides than the monster trucks this year. He was so fun to watch. Everything was exciting to him. I love living life through him sometimes. Oh, to be a child. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vQJZ8bVhKD3_YjKCM4rwR58FPIfJApGomaPxLiGW-JkV0dsp-kjBFrE6yd80Y5mArqRCzDUImu9fA6toa8rtFhOB4Jshe26iv_R0B-msGGngvpyRkyWkqAvwtV9zHjtfEVfpgx9O8-c/s640/blogger-image--1280493135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vQJZ8bVhKD3_YjKCM4rwR58FPIfJApGomaPxLiGW-JkV0dsp-kjBFrE6yd80Y5mArqRCzDUImu9fA6toa8rtFhOB4Jshe26iv_R0B-msGGngvpyRkyWkqAvwtV9zHjtfEVfpgx9O8-c/s640/blogger-image--1280493135.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Dude would not ride this last year and this year he took the front seat with a smile. So cute! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wHffgwD4LrBUSsIpA_N3FaZnmeNU5ol2T6MWjf15yrpICeQ6sBcJgP26415iEnsRGQIPeDr4dhQJissDdJrYSzJU_xXI45CqdS9dW3tyC9iis-DO2bqWUl_AwHtlOGWRe8HQJMp8npc/s640/blogger-image-33010620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wHffgwD4LrBUSsIpA_N3FaZnmeNU5ol2T6MWjf15yrpICeQ6sBcJgP26415iEnsRGQIPeDr4dhQJissDdJrYSzJU_xXI45CqdS9dW3tyC9iis-DO2bqWUl_AwHtlOGWRe8HQJMp8npc/s640/blogger-image-33010620.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He smiled the entire ride and put his hands in the air and everything. We got such a joy out of watching him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg36qhhe6lw3XvIoPls0RH9MZp5yJq3-W_vifPf9SlkaneFoBrDpjc7M67DyXagPAgCj4YTMOKmnCeSMph23rpK4ciVjVehRfvzsuLszClEnBaoF3MIMkXcW0wu48sTg3JnALzu3ajZzPA/s640/blogger-image--946387184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg36qhhe6lw3XvIoPls0RH9MZp5yJq3-W_vifPf9SlkaneFoBrDpjc7M67DyXagPAgCj4YTMOKmnCeSMph23rpK4ciVjVehRfvzsuLszClEnBaoF3MIMkXcW0wu48sTg3JnALzu3ajZzPA/s640/blogger-image--946387184.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When Henry walked up the steps to that slide and went down by himself I shed a tear. Crazy, I know. This boy is blooming right before my eyes in so many areas. It's overwhelming at times. His daddy and I are so proud of how brave he has become. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGz-lpeaQP74ug2ryGIv7kuBQNTTPrdhnC4xDpCsc009u_cxPNIxXda3qzdzlGBTRdbQAzGH7DfXP8_GNwfEQ_eboVPsNJJcxM4fI4jD87tQ7xuERbPuBt76t_6b7GY_ELtgGBLtfOIVY/s640/blogger-image-1711615837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGz-lpeaQP74ug2ryGIv7kuBQNTTPrdhnC4xDpCsc009u_cxPNIxXda3qzdzlGBTRdbQAzGH7DfXP8_GNwfEQ_eboVPsNJJcxM4fI4jD87tQ7xuERbPuBt76t_6b7GY_ELtgGBLtfOIVY/s640/blogger-image-1711615837.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We always take a selfie at the a White County Fair and usually in the petting zoo for some reason. We love seeing "Llama Llama red pajama" each year. It's a book we have read since he was 2. I love that he will always think of that book everytime he sees a llama for the rest of his life. He's my funny boy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjM7w9A5_vP-1ppiMXgRZLEpB2_Zr3OxN7qhG-A7RRwOS9XMvsSFG-_EMdMOcDbxpL3SVH84KKsTU0Qc02nkk65BTPg5kkDTEZc9G_gTbMOLJdlenVM9RreNqFNkW0hiKXFmkrfywXs4/s640/blogger-image--2033757981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjM7w9A5_vP-1ppiMXgRZLEpB2_Zr3OxN7qhG-A7RRwOS9XMvsSFG-_EMdMOcDbxpL3SVH84KKsTU0Qc02nkk65BTPg5kkDTEZc9G_gTbMOLJdlenVM9RreNqFNkW0hiKXFmkrfywXs4/s640/blogger-image--2033757981.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What's a visit to the fair without seeing someone you know! We ran into a sweet friend of my mother-in-love's and Julie's boys former Sunday School teacher while living in Augusta. We love Tammy and her crew. Henry had scored a Gideon Bible and was showing it off. I loved this picture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> ----------------------------------------------------------------</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And then we faired it up in Jonesboro with friends the following week at the NEA District Fair</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcra_Qlnt0sBj1O7Mg1f3402G1PBvksaxsKFofBndPCkU4ei3xK4udkB50T2HemvXyppl5UD3X75dtL82dqVjZV6_xI8o2uu-36QGwzL-zim8h7DN1Tm9keRkA4pmWjaxNC5eYWErWNo/s640/blogger-image-1333960374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcra_Qlnt0sBj1O7Mg1f3402G1PBvksaxsKFofBndPCkU4ei3xK4udkB50T2HemvXyppl5UD3X75dtL82dqVjZV6_xI8o2uu-36QGwzL-zim8h7DN1Tm9keRkA4pmWjaxNC5eYWErWNo/s640/blogger-image-1333960374.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Quinn and Henry buddied up for Buddy night. Quinn is 8 and so sweet to Henry. Henry loves him. We go to church together and his parents are good buddies of ours. James and Emily had extra passes and invited us to go with them. Randall was shelling corn in East Tennessee that night so we faired on without him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvc7GknWionDeS8Chyphenhyphen-6MtbIWwvWFG4DEH3G1gu0OWyO2DqoGUQH429L6hp1u69uKNaO_xDqjzQQhBieThuDWe9qJbzLp0mubmDAtos1wOtsfi9-iYwJ1DYBTkVbM-c0kc2nFjM6Bjpc8/s640/blogger-image-334907497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvc7GknWionDeS8Chyphenhyphen-6MtbIWwvWFG4DEH3G1gu0OWyO2DqoGUQH429L6hp1u69uKNaO_xDqjzQQhBieThuDWe9qJbzLp0mubmDAtos1wOtsfi9-iYwJ1DYBTkVbM-c0kc2nFjM6Bjpc8/s640/blogger-image-334907497.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is what we saw all night.... Hand in hand. Precious. We couldn't keep up with them! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJns6JPsd9fkkJ6KniY0UncXS-lPTJxzB95BRw7UJ5XS7OQRXNYfFvwtkmL1X_FKGyVgPlPr8esOCclwEIA7x0ItmMabNGfu_UE-0dmgVYotCbo9tJ2bIUHl-HrHbG9yY1tYJD2GbuLE/s640/blogger-image-76982543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJns6JPsd9fkkJ6KniY0UncXS-lPTJxzB95BRw7UJ5XS7OQRXNYfFvwtkmL1X_FKGyVgPlPr8esOCclwEIA7x0ItmMabNGfu_UE-0dmgVYotCbo9tJ2bIUHl-HrHbG9yY1tYJD2GbuLE/s640/blogger-image-76982543.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Henry said this was his favorite ride of the night. They laughed so hard and smiled the whole time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84siCwrdcYthtmQPsWHY5hZJfrt-Fa4g5N9c1A7_e4Xj3vh6lXw8Jth-LMYOuUSGnNyG1u3KQbtTWaKHATnL59aU3OKC6L-pCPpCAMhjCEILUZxYsOi80TimjDAiVckFTBKehCLb_5gc/s640/blogger-image--1024974801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84siCwrdcYthtmQPsWHY5hZJfrt-Fa4g5N9c1A7_e4Xj3vh6lXw8Jth-LMYOuUSGnNyG1u3KQbtTWaKHATnL59aU3OKC6L-pCPpCAMhjCEILUZxYsOi80TimjDAiVckFTBKehCLb_5gc/s640/blogger-image--1024974801.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I loved this because Henry wanted to do bumper cars at the a White County Fair but no one else was in line. Pure excitement to get bumped by Quinn. He laughed so hard. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0uBWC3Fuc8eAqBawjYn2gVDiWIFuWGj_I_gx8ZW6awjpneQ9Xems8z8OFYBB-Ulbe-OO3g7iud6EGbJoPwrpN9IeKaDs8kjacpo8q5JkVEqeiUsTaKdwy5ubjufLWusH58P11fikSPw/s640/blogger-image--970970457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0uBWC3Fuc8eAqBawjYn2gVDiWIFuWGj_I_gx8ZW6awjpneQ9Xems8z8OFYBB-Ulbe-OO3g7iud6EGbJoPwrpN9IeKaDs8kjacpo8q5JkVEqeiUsTaKdwy5ubjufLWusH58P11fikSPw/s640/blogger-image--970970457.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I still laugh with snort and all when I see this picture. James and I had to ride the big Ferris wheel with the boys. (Emily couldn't ride with him because she's having a baby! ) So, in true Lee/Adair fashion, we cut it up the entire ride. We sent this to Randall and he sent us a picture from his combine. Emily was on the ground acting like she didn't know us. I love having Jesus-loving friends with a large sense of humor. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbhlTToTIrXTwGcagArSCXuRLEItVs90s4DKqihNucry93GRPNeEFFuQuYIhplOfI6TBFh5bRlTU_zWQ31jMXd3_G_ERmJh1Tt-hEwhbDyQmg08_wp4ODsdLBjh-bBZlpFQFzUBZ5p2k/s640/blogger-image-465097005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbhlTToTIrXTwGcagArSCXuRLEItVs90s4DKqihNucry93GRPNeEFFuQuYIhplOfI6TBFh5bRlTU_zWQ31jMXd3_G_ERmJh1Tt-hEwhbDyQmg08_wp4ODsdLBjh-bBZlpFQFzUBZ5p2k/s640/blogger-image-465097005.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh but these guys.... They were the best part of that Ferris wheel ride. They loved being high over the midway. They said the ride wasn't long enough. The good ones never are. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QgHIvf2bS3gfRJFnjqhcILnvUwCCy4EDYsooO6MHJ7S449kGWwG-6NowepwQuhsSaAA4ZcjNRVSpr8RuX4QcX5qImrk2z7tuAia8brdYRqNB_yt8iOC_IKVeNbl12cK3vVOveBSwy4c/s640/blogger-image--1362331542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QgHIvf2bS3gfRJFnjqhcILnvUwCCy4EDYsooO6MHJ7S449kGWwG-6NowepwQuhsSaAA4ZcjNRVSpr8RuX4QcX5qImrk2z7tuAia8brdYRqNB_yt8iOC_IKVeNbl12cK3vVOveBSwy4c/s640/blogger-image--1362331542.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Emily snapped this of us before we got off. Such fun. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWvygJLUfq3uRDHL0N7kY0Pa5JWm0lKYSBVdttOvQNhvZAuFK-Qg9zFOU1sBZRwN123YBmzEzHEWJLCW1x1HP3kgOZEhCMm52E7ldlfU2aB_Kt6ax3TO__3LkHXBpksQOgkgNfQ9NAfQ/s640/blogger-image--800753470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWvygJLUfq3uRDHL0N7kY0Pa5JWm0lKYSBVdttOvQNhvZAuFK-Qg9zFOU1sBZRwN123YBmzEzHEWJLCW1x1HP3kgOZEhCMm52E7ldlfU2aB_Kt6ax3TO__3LkHXBpksQOgkgNfQ9NAfQ/s640/blogger-image--800753470.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We faired so hard we wore her out. I told her earlier that day I keep forgetting she's pregnant! Lol. I'm so excited for my friend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYjBZ4DC1lM4JOk377jak2XPm2hbTs3ObwONZFJM234iQHWdG7EEEN49ISXfH5heEj856kkpdKMOzlLv2wvPM5EovuJpI4cWOsMVgrk0nvgtZGFFhdKkgR6s5DOJwhGosPxEQ1C-Km00/s640/blogger-image--164073690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYjBZ4DC1lM4JOk377jak2XPm2hbTs3ObwONZFJM234iQHWdG7EEEN49ISXfH5heEj856kkpdKMOzlLv2wvPM5EovuJpI4cWOsMVgrk0nvgtZGFFhdKkgR6s5DOJwhGosPxEQ1C-Km00/s640/blogger-image--164073690.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Henry found the slide again at this fair and loved it. They went down it 4 times. Henry saw several new friends from school and it was cool to see how friendly and outgoing he is with all of them. I love this age because there is no bias, prejudice or inhibition. I wish it could always be like that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKji-0lSElZJqs1OAudv6TBCp2DXUG_8rJsJSJQctnxik5mK_zuG0rf5VFimoCYkEd3eWi3H5MraoVHdU4wWaY7nBEcn783ym1TS91vuTci_Nc_BbSiiPFZrli4NZBaRHcJ8T9iBuevU/s640/blogger-image--1476905835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKji-0lSElZJqs1OAudv6TBCp2DXUG_8rJsJSJQctnxik5mK_zuG0rf5VFimoCYkEd3eWi3H5MraoVHdU4wWaY7nBEcn783ym1TS91vuTci_Nc_BbSiiPFZrli4NZBaRHcJ8T9iBuevU/s640/blogger-image--1476905835.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When you are at the fair calories don't count. My swollen hands told me different the next day, but it was worth it! My daddy always bought me a carmel apple at the fair so I took this to send to him. He loved it. I have great fair memories with my daddy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-YhFRcikT84fPuGqwbQaXwkiuhePEFL0trah7-WZ1QIZbjG0itnMBn2E_O3Ch2OMKF29a7cwKTaD_2D3KKbsclT0GCctgAUgaHaFH2855OIkpqQQENcU9B4XPVouh1OCLoqm43CB2kg/s640/blogger-image--1869198519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-YhFRcikT84fPuGqwbQaXwkiuhePEFL0trah7-WZ1QIZbjG0itnMBn2E_O3Ch2OMKF29a7cwKTaD_2D3KKbsclT0GCctgAUgaHaFH2855OIkpqQQENcU9B4XPVouh1OCLoqm43CB2kg/s640/blogger-image--1869198519.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Feeding the animals carrots in the petting zoo. Henry was so funny to watch. He had never done that before. Quinn helped him use all his carrots. We would have been there until breakfast if not. He fed "llama llama red pajama" the last of his carrots and that made him happy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cDT63Ove1ZqzHIKaOLbFKtIWHsmmC9ZVDyEixg3NVU2kKNQfA6nq8Rdbmc64j0JuIRZIdWD-3Yx1-eeDBAskOk0Dye4Du3YozbZugJ68x7QSlZwIbaotZfpAf-MboWWtFPnMO2td0hY/s640/blogger-image--1115394519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cDT63Ove1ZqzHIKaOLbFKtIWHsmmC9ZVDyEixg3NVU2kKNQfA6nq8Rdbmc64j0JuIRZIdWD-3Yx1-eeDBAskOk0Dye4Du3YozbZugJ68x7QSlZwIbaotZfpAf-MboWWtFPnMO2td0hY/s640/blogger-image--1115394519.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We are so glad they asked us to go with them to the fair. Henry will have great memories of the fair now because of Quinn. I enjoyed laughing on a Monday night with friends and watching our boys have fun. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLd2e-BWpLtEMvZRdkoGZtKXmekJR24j-I83ReCOBxz03xITFqxxm0k-I8roqn0eLhDF4ryiUgAohspK3b0g-8xLTBr9qbTGgfKXwSzvMtFolyF7FPJwJ0_23XbzX8N_B7XRpM33y4vc/s640/blogger-image-1541919618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLd2e-BWpLtEMvZRdkoGZtKXmekJR24j-I83ReCOBxz03xITFqxxm0k-I8roqn0eLhDF4ryiUgAohspK3b0g-8xLTBr9qbTGgfKXwSzvMtFolyF7FPJwJ0_23XbzX8N_B7XRpM33y4vc/s640/blogger-image-1541919618.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This guy talked me into paying to play a game before we left. I started feeling bad about him not ever experiencing it. So I caved. The lady tried to keep my change and when I called her out on it she awarded Henry with this little ole Nemo instead of the big prize he probably should have won. I reminded him that this is why we don't pay to play the games. Ha! He loved it though just like it was a giant Nemo, so that's all that matters. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakd6fpd5r-tkpnUZrUvUfVvAkGOqJTRJxwrFg5mPiWZhdgS1dWXRQH21DOkIuF4zv4Zk0tvoyDEe5UnljVlo-ysF__AZIpehZkmGYD0SmZBrUL9pD3W_J_VOnrzrEYKg26sVthfHMGDE/s640/blogger-image-1365420535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakd6fpd5r-tkpnUZrUvUfVvAkGOqJTRJxwrFg5mPiWZhdgS1dWXRQH21DOkIuF4zv4Zk0tvoyDEe5UnljVlo-ysF__AZIpehZkmGYD0SmZBrUL9pD3W_J_VOnrzrEYKg26sVthfHMGDE/s640/blogger-image-1365420535.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> I went with $55 to the fair that night and came home with $1.50. I have no idea how people with more than 1 child afford the fair. The excitement on their faces, dirty hands, sweaty heads and muddy feet and fair stories for days make it worth every dime though. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">....And just like that we enjoyed our fair season. It's always a fun way to usher in fall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Abby Jo </div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-69358937387138494132015-09-19T21:48:00.001-05:002015-09-19T22:43:33.111-05:00Let's Go Racing, Boys!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzMgY4TsnVxSF8B45AesR4u335x-HZkSyTidAEgMPdvjNO3RgNYPeECME1XsEdyTu3Dma7N2pseoltJo6RNKgOMgac1zaXUwV5xgvCnMnKTqekbdOxF8JFW7RLzkd_iMLSqtFi68BZUg/s640/blogger-image-540157299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHWLKyRuUe0QpkRzZKWEmJ0_K-hxglbkDL7wf0WiqwZnBE5CCiACumfAac4YH3LHhknNFiRffVfBAUI6HJwwVj2av2jBmG1FYpd4kETf_AftRNpQJpuWUJw4CmXAmDOsVDMUccuyO9Mg/s640/blogger-image--147017192.jpg"></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">Several months ago Randall saw a $99 NASCAR experience deal online at the old Memphis International Speedway. He had me purchase it for any Saturday in September. Today was finally the day. Henry was so excited and he was convinced that he was going to be his daddy's 1 man pit crew. He was hoping he might get to change a tire. Oh, to be a 5 year old boy. Just precious. </div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyOLZZlWKITBUnEl71cCoqi6tRqgqYMo1neQpjMosz65m1gPNlbPTxCCt8zQusYbO7nj19bCd-MbZ9Nos7BoOABzV0aJpYLMR45V3r_ovfOa1I2eTCBmAeNDRUV_ztJwWMO5DfP649qU/s640/blogger-image--612545458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyOLZZlWKITBUnEl71cCoqi6tRqgqYMo1neQpjMosz65m1gPNlbPTxCCt8zQusYbO7nj19bCd-MbZ9Nos7BoOABzV0aJpYLMR45V3r_ovfOa1I2eTCBmAeNDRUV_ztJwWMO5DfP649qU/s640/blogger-image--612545458.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The speedway used to have several large races but now it simply houses the Rusty Wallace Racing Experience for guys and gals looking for speed. Driving up to it sort of reminded me of present day Dogpatch USA. That's not a good thing. We found where we needed to be and felt better about the situation, thankfully. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKcQfKqJUbmlM4G46j4fV1CohlZN15F8EDmOlEVhDerjE7MYp8-QcajEOhg46SLv837mxJ2GGIoUt3S86860hmtEW-ao8r-zYsNawcVtfm2BJ1gR_ghHP5QVrZNNcTJX_qUC-xeCWM5OI/s640/blogger-image--131728312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKcQfKqJUbmlM4G46j4fV1CohlZN15F8EDmOlEVhDerjE7MYp8-QcajEOhg46SLv837mxJ2GGIoUt3S86860hmtEW-ao8r-zYsNawcVtfm2BJ1gR_ghHP5QVrZNNcTJX_qUC-xeCWM5OI/s640/blogger-image--131728312.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Others were already on the track driving. We stopped and observed them for a while. We were sizing up the cars hoping Randall wouldn't get a "root beer" car (what Henry calls beer bc he has no idea what it is. He is really quite sheltered and I'm really quite ok with that). Henry wanted him to get the yellow Dollar General car. As you will see, he did indeed get a "root beer" car. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0GEQwmbdfnctlxirEKM2wPDhRL7Rhk0gT69h8a7SKMLlDkihOyJex0ldhZYG3_YKK5ngpluJrzoyhyphenhyphenw2zsp1Ongmcz2SDGxGCq0drCntPA70h-dG8VFciFHxa3ES7ksqfmegqFeSv8I/s640/blogger-image--113689513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0GEQwmbdfnctlxirEKM2wPDhRL7Rhk0gT69h8a7SKMLlDkihOyJex0ldhZYG3_YKK5ngpluJrzoyhyphenhyphenw2zsp1Ongmcz2SDGxGCq0drCntPA70h-dG8VFciFHxa3ES7ksqfmegqFeSv8I/s640/blogger-image--113689513.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Randall had a 45 minute class to sit in. Henry and I stayed on the track watching the others who were driving. Henry tried on his daddy's helmet as he was getting suited up after his class. Henry was none too happy to hear there was no need for him in the pit crew area. </div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPQeqyvGz-mxEfhJDHWqqjZveCph4a7j6aiOZZbLJQXb7MASqdeTDWyHHcbNQIfKTkctjmuiA0IxqHzH1xehw-tXRtz2y08ZUpjiTGJnLPYDVieT2jgOwH5jC7F2MAFBZkBCwJzlVFe1E/s640/blogger-image--709313450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPQeqyvGz-mxEfhJDHWqqjZveCph4a7j6aiOZZbLJQXb7MASqdeTDWyHHcbNQIfKTkctjmuiA0IxqHzH1xehw-tXRtz2y08ZUpjiTGJnLPYDVieT2jgOwH5jC7F2MAFBZkBCwJzlVFe1E/s640/blogger-image--709313450.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Randall chose a ride along option with a pro driver before he drove the car himself. After sitting in class and the instructor scaring them all into a pro ride along and an extra insurance policy....they were all lined up at the registration desk adding to their tickets. I said that instructor needs to come sell houses because he's got game! Suckers. Seriously, those cars go fast and the pros are driving on the track alongside them to give them the "experience". Not leading them like the Petty driving school.... These pros drive all around them on the track. It's intimidating and the ride along makes them more confident. I was glad Randall got "sucked in" because it really did make him feel better about getting in the car alone afterwards. </div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70Adviy9uYb4dC68Pz0hdXnda8yUxMTYk7P6l-gQWtevI09CD3Bh64HakQYeP8C8kO3u2-ROZNEt3HNpNgyr3hs1qa5ObddbSNBm_NKckGjXaVR80ma1mUmjRWAsIRkuJ80seHl_28PI/s640/blogger-image--1930135391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70Adviy9uYb4dC68Pz0hdXnda8yUxMTYk7P6l-gQWtevI09CD3Bh64HakQYeP8C8kO3u2-ROZNEt3HNpNgyr3hs1qa5ObddbSNBm_NKckGjXaVR80ma1mUmjRWAsIRkuJ80seHl_28PI/s640/blogger-image--1930135391.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Henry loved coaching his daddy as he got in the car with the pro driver. He liked looking like he was in a pit with the tires beside him too. Henry Lee was on cloud 9 in that environment and he honestly thought Randall was on TV in a NASCAR race. He wondered who all might be watching and went down the family and friend roll asking me. I just went along with him. You are only 5 once and most daddy's never do this or only do it once. This is the good stuff that gets stored up tight in his childhood memory bank.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> ( His wife will hear about this 874 times if he turns out anything like me. I replay my best childhood memories so much randall feels like he lived in Sutton Estates with me.)</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqPvQ7vygcypf9XNTtfxFyvQqoTuXH6LQXR_DilYTTvfpPJNpHqe3nLfZlbREvw42BqKjah0dOcMwS8ti6bZWPxOx15xFRuu7zHAD31A4h1lUqNT70yhNSjhOwhlP-qTYwWix9vq1Ur0/s640/blogger-image--1862362233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqPvQ7vygcypf9XNTtfxFyvQqoTuXH6LQXR_DilYTTvfpPJNpHqe3nLfZlbREvw42BqKjah0dOcMwS8ti6bZWPxOx15xFRuu7zHAD31A4h1lUqNT70yhNSjhOwhlP-qTYwWix9vq1Ur0/s640/blogger-image--1862362233.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>Our Big Daddy was all ready to get in and take his 8 laps around the track. I made him pose for me. He was a good sport about it. When we were newly married we watched NASCAR races on Sunday's because we didn't have cable and he grew up watching it on and off. I had never watched races. My daddy watched golf on Sundays and napped through it. Anyway, my cousin Hollye and her husband watched NASCAR because they wanted to and used to say they thought Randall looked like Kasey Kahne. I never really saw the resemblance but today I said "pose like you are "Kasey Kahne". It's a wonder he did it. I embarrass him from time to time. Can you Imagine that?! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He got secured in the car just like a NASCAR driver would. It gave me closterphobia just watching it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8EiWhUbZ_rPEF_iY3vFL7iLqFWdR7E1Bybq1x6idYclE91Ee-lXIQ_J_YjmljrdLAV5bwR2JXKbmZ99XpWh3IQxoW_hX26PmCoDQKAYyZDPJJzC0XgzIhxRVuI_zd1W5hnClaPnL-Nw/s640/blogger-image-855840099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8EiWhUbZ_rPEF_iY3vFL7iLqFWdR7E1Bybq1x6idYclE91Ee-lXIQ_J_YjmljrdLAV5bwR2JXKbmZ99XpWh3IQxoW_hX26PmCoDQKAYyZDPJJzC0XgzIhxRVuI_zd1W5hnClaPnL-Nw/s640/blogger-image-855840099.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He looked like a natural. He really enjoyed it and by lap 4 and 5 he was flying on the track. Henry would wave and say "He isn't waving at me!" And "wow, he's really speeding!" It was fun to watch him drive. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyoF5HCBJ61gitFqe6jb5wnH2e4uGMG2lEZHO0gcWKX_wmCN9nx-JvkxA0BvdTnyOUiNShSaonjVzid2xUv2CU95FFWKv1BjHJUv5zdahvDgG39USawMe6SAEh5REhC0Em-vE8OIcCEjE/s640/blogger-image--1990057147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyoF5HCBJ61gitFqe6jb5wnH2e4uGMG2lEZHO0gcWKX_wmCN9nx-JvkxA0BvdTnyOUiNShSaonjVzid2xUv2CU95FFWKv1BjHJUv5zdahvDgG39USawMe6SAEh5REhC0Em-vE8OIcCEjE/s640/blogger-image--1990057147.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That's my #2 in that "root beer" car, ladies. Step off! ;)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I told Randall before he drove that I really felt like I should sing the national anthem and kiss him before he gets in the car. He made me assure him I wouldn't do either.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> It was a fun experience and if your man likes speed and racing, you should give him the gift of adrenaline one weekend!</div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VOVQhU8UL4X2m1xj3pMex4lBVhVhzUxpBT3hKb-2mPFiB_Sab41nfjpOQjYj6aFbn0MSz9q1nkhjD8OIPBZvMn1LILT9Mti6QBYHiyy9J03BKStvx6TOuSgdb9fMj_e5iZcBVDxf9n0/s640/blogger-image--1464143318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VOVQhU8UL4X2m1xj3pMex4lBVhVhzUxpBT3hKb-2mPFiB_Sab41nfjpOQjYj6aFbn0MSz9q1nkhjD8OIPBZvMn1LILT9Mti6QBYHiyy9J03BKStvx6TOuSgdb9fMj_e5iZcBVDxf9n0/s640/blogger-image--1464143318.jpg"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We spent 3 hours at the race track. We were hungry and thirsty. Henry asked if he could go to Huey's and color on the wall. He said it had been awhile. So, we did. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJYX8qBL8d6-HVo1aRnCHjtxgOARwNs9ynZg_38sz5uUA3F6OmyISvUUza2iVe80moWhRijxjBKkZ7sP_TyUNMwo9RIoVQTfCCcCd5K-crkfur2PRtwLawNag76tC1g41X2wz1RB3jUU/s640/blogger-image--1348423914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJYX8qBL8d6-HVo1aRnCHjtxgOARwNs9ynZg_38sz5uUA3F6OmyISvUUza2iVe80moWhRijxjBKkZ7sP_TyUNMwo9RIoVQTfCCcCd5K-crkfur2PRtwLawNag76tC1g41X2wz1RB3jUU/s640/blogger-image--1348423914.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We took a shortcut through the Peabody lobby for a little A/C action. It was hot today. Randall decided to get "duck headed" in the gift shop. Henry did not care for that very much. He doesn't do masks well. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7iCwdzXpvWYJsjfPaGyZql9frKc6NQEb104QxPX3mDEPH3LQmtpTekR6U4WgsgSs_vu42rhIKqopg8QSMARbjZzac7I_W-JM5z9u11BGU2hhAV77lHSJ0_rZ6tPIvJjn40_egp3NXWQ/s640/blogger-image--643036991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7iCwdzXpvWYJsjfPaGyZql9frKc6NQEb104QxPX3mDEPH3LQmtpTekR6U4WgsgSs_vu42rhIKqopg8QSMARbjZzac7I_W-JM5z9u11BGU2hhAV77lHSJ0_rZ6tPIvJjn40_egp3NXWQ/s640/blogger-image--643036991.jpg"></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Randall snapped a picture of me with the ducks in the fountain. I posted it so you would know I was really there today because there was no other proof of that. I love my little family and the fun we get ourselves into. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Abby Jo <br><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7iCwdzXpvWYJsjfPaGyZql9frKc6NQEb104QxPX3mDEPH3LQmtpTekR6U4WgsgSs_vu42rhIKqopg8QSMARbjZzac7I_W-JM5z9u11BGU2hhAV77lHSJ0_rZ6tPIvJjn40_egp3NXWQ/s640/blogger-image--643036991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4589934594303361668.post-45009882351341356862015-09-12T23:09:00.001-05:002015-09-12T23:13:15.395-05:00Celebrating Another Year Together<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5bhq1FqEGrtxpd7m2GFUDvSsQ1r8IqZX-f1gI1ColiKrdnzy9jDRo88fy_-Nl2hmxfFdxBJ1XggXJhnxJFnSLgjr3HRyAE2rouEEmKe29JIXCoSwbGYjffrHEEmADBFVdwzZh2y8vDc/s640/blogger-image--1779044510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5bhq1FqEGrtxpd7m2GFUDvSsQ1r8IqZX-f1gI1ColiKrdnzy9jDRo88fy_-Nl2hmxfFdxBJ1XggXJhnxJFnSLgjr3HRyAE2rouEEmKe29JIXCoSwbGYjffrHEEmADBFVdwzZh2y8vDc/s640/blogger-image--1779044510.jpg"></a></div>12 years ago we celebrated my 25th birthday at the lake as newlyweds with our new newlywed friends, Mandy and Charlie. She made me a monkey bread birthday cake full of candles. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_KAz5BEHu2_uT4EnSezmDKQb0qQRt-sQlPAE9dNS5ww5rDeVxqFdd5JcHxHuCu_sSSiTx22GdpRmXsMy2plxKXR9AJOeKVtKeCzjeBEcV_IQGVqEbUK7B1OPMp1oO-Icug903yA_Coc/s640/blogger-image-106721439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_KAz5BEHu2_uT4EnSezmDKQb0qQRt-sQlPAE9dNS5ww5rDeVxqFdd5JcHxHuCu_sSSiTx22GdpRmXsMy2plxKXR9AJOeKVtKeCzjeBEcV_IQGVqEbUK7B1OPMp1oO-Icug903yA_Coc/s640/blogger-image-106721439.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She also made me a birhday breakfast feast and I knew I'd be friends with her forever. We had fun that weekend thinking we were on top of the world and big stuff with all four of us finally using our degrees in good jobs. We were so young and carefree. Such simple days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4otnl9Vk74jJOFrE9oMzpmpAn1CLJZnuef7m8iUPuSG0G6NIQriPxEmxsviCHxthj2jEh42-U0xmLwt_fWZMHebfJtl8x1i1Hp0viFoUvtEDfWp9V77JgUWrgF8qvkd0i3LSaWrdcd8/s640/blogger-image--995672415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4otnl9Vk74jJOFrE9oMzpmpAn1CLJZnuef7m8iUPuSG0G6NIQriPxEmxsviCHxthj2jEh42-U0xmLwt_fWZMHebfJtl8x1i1Hp0viFoUvtEDfWp9V77JgUWrgF8qvkd0i3LSaWrdcd8/s640/blogger-image--995672415.jpg"></a></div>We rode the jet ski on my birthday and laughed all day. If only I could get those arms back that I thought were fat back then. If only. I've held my baby with those arms since then and done a lot of reaching and digging to get where I am today, so I'll accept what they look like now, I reckon. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wwb-8Kg69NVjCuXbh59pGKxIE87X_EwBPRjIY5iOA0Cj_yFuBHXVWgb5l06yK-w8eapuDwCfhA0DSkx6Gn_GtVGBNitVFpOOWPAf3BOZWTgXLOImvYPxCSmJCTBYMNx94Ns1LUJHLSs/s640/blogger-image--1221743374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wwb-8Kg69NVjCuXbh59pGKxIE87X_EwBPRjIY5iOA0Cj_yFuBHXVWgb5l06yK-w8eapuDwCfhA0DSkx6Gn_GtVGBNitVFpOOWPAf3BOZWTgXLOImvYPxCSmJCTBYMNx94Ns1LUJHLSs/s640/blogger-image--1221743374.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">By my 26th we were celebrating in our newly built home and had added another couple to our group. Mandy and Charlie had also just purchased their first home. We were growing up a lot that year and super excited about it. I had the best homemade cake with the cutest candles and friends standing with me in my new red kitchen. </div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZiH9m7Xn5aG_dQ1_cd0oNADuYWY0sgt-BOKjQDdebcid_G9w1j9ntptSJuUeCjeCA2PysbEUD6uA8zGjL210Jnggl6ohdArEcCxq1l2M-yB0LIQHUR7k6Q7YC2HhR5dEB8CD20axg-I/s640/blogger-image-132127150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZiH9m7Xn5aG_dQ1_cd0oNADuYWY0sgt-BOKjQDdebcid_G9w1j9ntptSJuUeCjeCA2PysbEUD6uA8zGjL210Jnggl6ohdArEcCxq1l2M-yB0LIQHUR7k6Q7YC2HhR5dEB8CD20axg-I/s640/blogger-image-132127150.jpg"></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The years have come and gone and Mandy and Charlie moved away and we moved away. All those sweet times as newlyweds were distant memories we held close in our hearts and often remembered with a smile or laugh. Then last year God moved them back to north Mississippi. They have had two children and we have had one. We live 90 minutes from each other, with Memphis as an even quicker meeting point. It's simply the best! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So, Mandy had us over for my "birthday eve" and she made me a beautiful angel food cake and a wonderful meal to celebrate my 37th. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_n8lXAYnLdQENXVLLW2DX7X0GYZ2LPPXR7xJpFpnAYDhVdkiaYFZaLVhyphenhyphenoYd3MYTMf7Z4iJveB3hzywa-DahAhSaqyGiTB9NYQfhEkua4CIhQ1JOgrt72nSkZ8marCPuYyAN_AdImWQ/s640/blogger-image-600549643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_n8lXAYnLdQENXVLLW2DX7X0GYZ2LPPXR7xJpFpnAYDhVdkiaYFZaLVhyphenhyphenoYd3MYTMf7Z4iJveB3hzywa-DahAhSaqyGiTB9NYQfhEkua4CIhQ1JOgrt72nSkZ8marCPuYyAN_AdImWQ/s640/blogger-image-600549643.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Laughing with Mandy is my favorite. It's like we have gained all those years back and we have met each other right where we are. She and her crew came after my thyroid surgery in the spring and helped care for me and cook and distract me for a couple days. That meant so much to me. We all four sat in the den and watched our favorite movie together after all those years and laughed so hard until my incision hurt. God has blessed me with many precious friends. I'm glad he saw fit to bring this girl back to me to cook for me again. She can do it up in the kitchen and we laugh so hard. Laughing is my favorite. My birthday has been special for many of my adult years because of Mandy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfp02Van_x7ZglnS0O9G5lJmu3dxIYAOrfnJc-pPQvWW69Z06R_iPEhiyY8FWdIeujNdRNpbHh4btBEbnsGN2wS0uKgIP2YZKETBK_6uJ55Yr8MbwCX46N9tE22OwRJyPcg0IhqMZAF7w/s640/blogger-image--455100459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfp02Van_x7ZglnS0O9G5lJmu3dxIYAOrfnJc-pPQvWW69Z06R_iPEhiyY8FWdIeujNdRNpbHh4btBEbnsGN2wS0uKgIP2YZKETBK_6uJ55Yr8MbwCX46N9tE22OwRJyPcg0IhqMZAF7w/s640/blogger-image--455100459.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Yet I have to say my most memorable birthday as an adult was this one. My 24th and my favorite cake made by my other sister, my cousin Hollye. I lived in Memphis with my aunt and uncle as a new college graduate and a girl lucky in love. This birthday held suprises I only wished would come true...and this tiny little cutie in the corner helping me blow out that trick candle. They all knew and I had no idea when this picture was taken that things were about to get real...</div><div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0nB2lYMvQtthQxupylRJCHD3vAGToXmrzJumhJIaxf2Rw0F9GizFm5fthWd3_eIBBW9TCk_8QbeiAHNevQQEjroKzi6BuhpEyNy24jbo_IlbyHeWgrRSw2WviytLB96s21TOJ74iaLU/s640/blogger-image-225470088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0nB2lYMvQtthQxupylRJCHD3vAGToXmrzJumhJIaxf2Rw0F9GizFm5fthWd3_eIBBW9TCk_8QbeiAHNevQQEjroKzi6BuhpEyNy24jbo_IlbyHeWgrRSw2WviytLB96s21TOJ74iaLU/s640/blogger-image-225470088.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">13 yrs ago I turned 24 and my first and only love proposed to me with a light up ring box with the perfect platinum marquis inside, along with his proposal written in this engagement journal. This trumps every birthday before this and after. I landed the best gift in him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am one blessed birthday girl. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Abby Jo </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Sistershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04266141026462515672noreply@blogger.com0