tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69490613517555836222024-02-06T18:56:16.850-08:00The Four, er, Five Shorties...because we are Johnsons...The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.comBlogger383125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-81430086484336320002023-12-02T08:29:00.000-08:002023-12-02T08:29:13.406-08:00What the Mess. Observations:<br />
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1.) Sometimes people who have wronged you come squirming out of the wood work the second there is a crisis. They want to make nice. They want absolution. They want forgiveness. And we are called in Scripture to give it. But I want to make a side note here. My daughter's illness is not your ticket for a free pass.<br />
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2.) I'm not a very nice person. I'm a holy person. I'm not a nice person. (Hey, Paul to you.)<br />
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3.) Don't confuse my silence with a "speak freely pass." Usually that means you need to shut it and back away three feet. She's about to blow.<br />
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4.) Elise can feel any way she'd like. So can Carter. So can Elaina. So can Steve. So can Lilly. So can I. So can Nana. It is not being nonspiritual to feel a certain way.<br />
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5.) When you fb message someone fresh again after a long time, all of the posts you previously sent in that message show up. :-) Some have been...how do I say...interesting <i>reminders</i> of why a person isn't in my life anymore.<br />
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6.) I don't hate anyone. In order to hate you, I'd have to think about you. And I don't. Ever.<br />
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7.) Sometimes it's best not to say anything at all. Just roll on.<br />
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8.) If someone offers you a choice between what is fair and mercy, always, always, always choose mercy. Fair almost never works in your favor.<br />
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9.) Sometimes people are instruments of evil. You can't reason with them or distract them or change them. You must move away from them as rapidly as possible.<br />
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10.) As a Christ follower, I have to love you. I don't have to like you. Don't get confused.<br />
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11.) Don't forget that you will be judged the same way you judged (which is truly terrifying). Matthew 7:2<br />
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12.) All of the great books I have ever read in my lifetime have something that is objectionable to certain people groups in them. (This might be the actually point of literature.)<br />
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-58038404765839699652022-09-13T15:33:00.000-07:002022-09-13T15:33:11.494-07:00Lest we forget, I’m not that nice. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdc6FtLoyemi7nCCeYpxLtu9DtyGeBHG04dl6q1xEVCuZI6PQdsj3onWaAQ8zul72fADy0dHPB8srqGnjkzhTxKaltVcFg27LoxzwI5FDoFKxVFnrD8Y-zifBpHGPQq18JNOp4C9DweXi_BEcIycMG6WzctSVHRLEjKfUxlvBwK4cPRYuVXLnNyRQIg/s959/BEA69528-0C38-442F-83AA-1B6D51B03F3D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="959" data-original-width="958" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdc6FtLoyemi7nCCeYpxLtu9DtyGeBHG04dl6q1xEVCuZI6PQdsj3onWaAQ8zul72fADy0dHPB8srqGnjkzhTxKaltVcFg27LoxzwI5FDoFKxVFnrD8Y-zifBpHGPQq18JNOp4C9DweXi_BEcIycMG6WzctSVHRLEjKfUxlvBwK4cPRYuVXLnNyRQIg/w320-h320/BEA69528-0C38-442F-83AA-1B6D51B03F3D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>I had an adult snap at me in the hallway this morning for no apparent reason other than the entire high school (me included) was in her way (80 people in the hallway fighting to lockers in three minutes flat is actually thunder dome). As she walked past me, she was completely unaware that approximately 40 teens who were in the hallway changing classes heard her rude behavior and immediately stopped, bowed up, and contemplated a physical retaliation on her person directly behind her back for being ugly to me. Thirty or forty pairs of eyes made contact with mine to find out what the move was going to be on that kind of verbal attack. <p></p><p>Thankfully, I preach self control on a daily, so I didn’t scream back at her or give the go signal for an all-out brawl (which was rather impressive, if you’ve met me). That would have been straight up entertaining but perhaps counter productive for the Jesus walk exhibit. The high school did, however, see something terribly character revealing—someone was incredibly rude to me without provocation, and I responded by standing still and remaining calm. Next time, they might see me go Sister Sunshine on ‘em. But today was Sweet Charlotte. (Mostly because I didn’t want to start an actual beat down of an elderly woman in the high school hallway. You’re all welcome.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9aHgMUTSgWWQ-jrJH2Mr7nbR3CuNM_KV3rH0pKNlVE6dKuT3zt0VLi4UWrqNTNQUlXk7Aey_Lw175YgB5WDvGfLbschsKJkbNOEeeCocnTTKIorsxeNBGkRH_JpluFnA8qlg3JG19VAPy3F6ZT9nq8zvCXvneLexQKgTfYmCRE3GJMTyR3IqpOEG2g/s2048/0B7E53B9-71F7-470E-B56D-1D83A12AF19D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="2048" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9aHgMUTSgWWQ-jrJH2Mr7nbR3CuNM_KV3rH0pKNlVE6dKuT3zt0VLi4UWrqNTNQUlXk7Aey_Lw175YgB5WDvGfLbschsKJkbNOEeeCocnTTKIorsxeNBGkRH_JpluFnA8qlg3JG19VAPy3F6ZT9nq8zvCXvneLexQKgTfYmCRE3GJMTyR3IqpOEG2g/s320/0B7E53B9-71F7-470E-B56D-1D83A12AF19D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>So, first moral of the story—the high school has my back and I have theirs. Don’t forget it. Oh, and second moral—the only reasons I didn’t throat punch someone this morning are because a) it’s pajama day and I didn’t fancy a Chilton Hilton mug shot in my pink polka dot jammies, b) there were too many witnesses and c) we were on hallway camera, not because I’m so Holy. I’m not that Christlike nor that stupid. I’d keep that in mind. Have a nice day! </p><p>~Sister Sunshine Charlotte Said So</p>The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-21376925356938934972021-10-17T10:12:00.001-07:002021-10-17T10:12:35.091-07:00In Fun. <div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1w4DdxyhMepSdqL7w-_jYILc0pZNd-LQJ4tbcXLpcgRolGmini_9RV6DQ4bVeEx75MgpyfWEymE0XhRAVntAbb2oR5pCydq_NpCTZ6qJ57zEchInCMeXGYRBH6Mp8gquyEouUgPEcOcx/s2048/545B3C8D-FFB0-4A71-A1EA-63F4BBC780F2.jpeg" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></div><div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLGH7ErLO-KnZsjwS-XLfabVkEPbS_vq5qM7-q5YZ-whAXlNfxiFtX9Lag1nVKm05WEhjp_HKaf-PARG9hLHjBG8TGzUNJH2SOM2bULQVjBYBMCK1U8aKB5I78MxMdVzyDOP5AHzze8QU/s2048/7AE3A2CA-FD95-4C8D-B20A-EEF9D39C6333.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1w4DdxyhMepSdqL7w-_jYILc0pZNd-LQJ4tbcXLpcgRolGmini_9RV6DQ4bVeEx75MgpyfWEymE0XhRAVntAbb2oR5pCydq_NpCTZ6qJ57zEchInCMeXGYRBH6Mp8gquyEouUgPEcOcx/s2048/545B3C8D-FFB0-4A71-A1EA-63F4BBC780F2.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1w4DdxyhMepSdqL7w-_jYILc0pZNd-LQJ4tbcXLpcgRolGmini_9RV6DQ4bVeEx75MgpyfWEymE0XhRAVntAbb2oR5pCydq_NpCTZ6qJ57zEchInCMeXGYRBH6Mp8gquyEouUgPEcOcx/s320/545B3C8D-FFB0-4A71-A1EA-63F4BBC780F2.jpeg" width="240" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1w4DdxyhMepSdqL7w-_jYILc0pZNd-LQJ4tbcXLpcgRolGmini_9RV6DQ4bVeEx75MgpyfWEymE0XhRAVntAbb2oR5pCydq_NpCTZ6qJ57zEchInCMeXGYRBH6Mp8gquyEouUgPEcOcx/s2048/545B3C8D-FFB0-4A71-A1EA-63F4BBC780F2.jpeg" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="text-align: left;">So, </span><span style="text-align: left;">my son’s truck was inadvertently vandalized by some kids who were yard rolling last weekend. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Rolling is a long standing tradition in our little community. The rules are fairly straightforward. You are careful not to cause any damage. Stick to things that are easily cleaned up. The month of October is the only time it’s acceptable. And you never, ever tell who, when, or where you rolled. </span></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLGH7ErLO-KnZsjwS-XLfabVkEPbS_vq5qM7-q5YZ-whAXlNfxiFtX9Lag1nVKm05WEhjp_HKaf-PARG9hLHjBG8TGzUNJH2SOM2bULQVjBYBMCK1U8aKB5I78MxMdVzyDOP5AHzze8QU/s2048/7AE3A2CA-FD95-4C8D-B20A-EEF9D39C6333.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></a>We woke up on a Sunday morning to find that the rollers who visited our house had only targeted my son’s truck (another fairly common occurrence when you have teens in your house). The only problem is they pulled down a gigantic, dead limb onto his truck, which caused major damage. It caved in the roof of the truck, dropping everything in the ceiling console into the seat. It left a body-sized dent in the hood, shattered the windshield, and left bat-sized dents in both of the front panels to the left and right of the hood. It scratched the two sides of the truck when the giant limb fell onto the truck. The limb caused $5600.00 of damage to my son’s vehicle.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLGH7ErLO-KnZsjwS-XLfabVkEPbS_vq5qM7-q5YZ-whAXlNfxiFtX9Lag1nVKm05WEhjp_HKaf-PARG9hLHjBG8TGzUNJH2SOM2bULQVjBYBMCK1U8aKB5I78MxMdVzyDOP5AHzze8QU/s2048/7AE3A2CA-FD95-4C8D-B20A-EEF9D39C6333.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLGH7ErLO-KnZsjwS-XLfabVkEPbS_vq5qM7-q5YZ-whAXlNfxiFtX9Lag1nVKm05WEhjp_HKaf-PARG9hLHjBG8TGzUNJH2SOM2bULQVjBYBMCK1U8aKB5I78MxMdVzyDOP5AHzze8QU/s320/7AE3A2CA-FD95-4C8D-B20A-EEF9D39C6333.jpeg" width="240" /> </a>He lives at U Mobile, so he had to drive back to school in the damaged vehicle, rent a car on his own for the first time through the insurance company, find and drop the vehicle at the body shop, and get a ride to all of these events. He will also be without his beloved truck for several weeks, literally because someone else was playing a little joke on him.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYES03up1yWMgru8b2A3yqRj7Toq9nq3EEn64qKAFl3_4EyqS296bBZLhWOlseeisiAjk6QPhVMHnTjeNrm9CV_vrLg6ZaxAfOvK1VZJYWxh5ZYPqBWRuQJxWtxnr0xqgjHhnKgh3cW9z/s2048/BF538494-CA8F-4977-9B38-63C669C9CB3E.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYES03up1yWMgru8b2A3yqRj7Toq9nq3EEn64qKAFl3_4EyqS296bBZLhWOlseeisiAjk6QPhVMHnTjeNrm9CV_vrLg6ZaxAfOvK1VZJYWxh5ZYPqBWRuQJxWtxnr0xqgjHhnKgh3cW9z/s320/BF538494-CA8F-4977-9B38-63C669C9CB3E.jpeg" width="240" /> </a>I have had at least seven phone calls to insurance company, rental company (when my son had to wait four hours in their office for his rental to arrive and miss classes), to the body shop, back to the insurance company, to the police to file a report, etc. Not to mention the $1,000 deductible. It’s a nightmare. </p><p>Not only that, but the limb falling down required us to hire a tree service to come out and cut down the tree in question because it started leaning. So, $2,300 later, the tree is down. </p><p>The morning we discovered the damage, I immediately posted on facebook and sent a text to several of the students who might be in the know, and within about two hours of those contacts, I had two separate individuals come forward and admit fault without throwing the other party under the bus. I told the boys who contacted me the truth—I’m not actually mad. But the second that limb fell, someone should have been at the door or left a note on the truck. I’m also thankful they admitted fault so quickly and came forward WITHOUT THROWING THE OTHER PERSON THERE UNDER THE BUS. They didn’t tattle—they admitted their own fault. I told them it was scary and brave and man stuff, because it was. When you do wrong, you have to admit it and move forward.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvliWDXW43HvAE0ybpNfWG0bav7ESUiyj0vg8mH_Nnd8rKgaBmOrpTtvZfnxjPZKXvzqbjlHhY0B6X9ab9vPfjCgeIdWENvc9GAqEHxOxZwDx1kvTtD3NM9vBzbv_0DpIS5H13XaeKHVrp/s2048/B3C7B00D-2763-471F-B075-A84949DD95FF.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvliWDXW43HvAE0ybpNfWG0bav7ESUiyj0vg8mH_Nnd8rKgaBmOrpTtvZfnxjPZKXvzqbjlHhY0B6X9ab9vPfjCgeIdWENvc9GAqEHxOxZwDx1kvTtD3NM9vBzbv_0DpIS5H13XaeKHVrp/s320/B3C7B00D-2763-471F-B075-A84949DD95FF.jpeg" width="240" /> </a>But this is the point I really want to make—sometimes we do something “in fun” but it causes real life tangible damage to other people. My son was devastated about his truck. He has been put out for weeks because of someone’s “fun”. I have been put out for weeks because of “fun”. My pocketbook has been seriously dented because of someone having “fun”. Sometimes when we mean no harm, but we still cause harm, it leaves an impact that was unintentional, but still real. </p><p>And this entire thing was about a vehicle—an inanimate object. What about when the damage done “in fun” is to a person? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1w4DdxyhMepSdqL7w-_jYILc0pZNd-LQJ4tbcXLpcgRolGmini_9RV6DQ4bVeEx75MgpyfWEymE0XhRAVntAbb2oR5pCydq_NpCTZ6qJ57zEchInCMeXGYRBH6Mp8gquyEouUgPEcOcx/s2048/545B3C8D-FFB0-4A71-A1EA-63F4BBC780F2.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1w4DdxyhMepSdqL7w-_jYILc0pZNd-LQJ4tbcXLpcgRolGmini_9RV6DQ4bVeEx75MgpyfWEymE0XhRAVntAbb2oR5pCydq_NpCTZ6qJ57zEchInCMeXGYRBH6Mp8gquyEouUgPEcOcx/s320/545B3C8D-FFB0-4A71-A1EA-63F4BBC780F2.jpeg" width="240" /> </a>I guess I want to say this—be very careful about what you post online, how you talk about other people, teasing disgusted as bullying, snide comments made behind people’s backs, gossiping, backbiting, making jokes at other people’s expense—because that line between “fun” and “mean” is razor thin and always cost both parties a price neither intended to pay. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYES03up1yWMgru8b2A3yqRj7Toq9nq3EEn64qKAFl3_4EyqS296bBZLhWOlseeisiAjk6QPhVMHnTjeNrm9CV_vrLg6ZaxAfOvK1VZJYWxh5ZYPqBWRuQJxWtxnr0xqgjHhnKgh3cW9z/s2048/BF538494-CA8F-4977-9B38-63C669C9CB3E.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYES03up1yWMgru8b2A3yqRj7Toq9nq3EEn64qKAFl3_4EyqS296bBZLhWOlseeisiAjk6QPhVMHnTjeNrm9CV_vrLg6ZaxAfOvK1VZJYWxh5ZYPqBWRuQJxWtxnr0xqgjHhnKgh3cW9z/s320/BF538494-CA8F-4977-9B38-63C669C9CB3E.jpeg" width="240" /> </a>Oh, and consider this—when I found that truck damaged my first phone call was to the police to file a report. The second was to the insurance company. Both phone calls were made within ten minutes of finding the damage. If I find that you damaged another person under my care “in fun” I assure you that I will take care of that situation exponentially faster and more violently than I did for the truck. We have too much else after us on a daily than to be afraid that our friends are going to harm us “in fun”. </p><p>Think before you post. Think before you comment. Think before you do anything “in fun” that might cause actual damage to another person. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucC5AVi5hryFpTLBj67Mgni4qV62jgIV4Qe57RSljO-u1gotwUiEUVflfjsvUdvdemxi4mithdqjZseSUVFiCWNvm-9DNRyR1zj1U51FsD8fPU3hjE4_k2YW90FvOW5sh8DQOMqwivHzZ/s2048/75B8400C-C556-4D56-8FAF-7BEAC81B87F5.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucC5AVi5hryFpTLBj67Mgni4qV62jgIV4Qe57RSljO-u1gotwUiEUVflfjsvUdvdemxi4mithdqjZseSUVFiCWNvm-9DNRyR1zj1U51FsD8fPU3hjE4_k2YW90FvOW5sh8DQOMqwivHzZ/s320/75B8400C-C556-4D56-8FAF-7BEAC81B87F5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p>The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-27940191532919056852021-09-09T17:59:00.003-07:002021-09-09T17:59:49.485-07:00This is not okay <p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></span></p><p>So, I took an article on the President’s speech and just made one minor little tiny change in wording. Here’s a hint—it’s the capitalized words. Still okay with this? Or is it only when you agree with what is being mandated?</p><p>***************************</p><p>In his speech, <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">President Joe Biden formally announced his plan to force companies with more than 100 employees to REQUIRE SALVATION FOR ALL workers against the RISK OF DYING AND GOING TO HELL or test them weekly FOR PROGRESSION IN BIBLE KNOWLEDGE</span><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> </b><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">and dismissed concerns about encroaching on personal freedoms.</span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">"This is not about freedom or personal choice," Biden said during a Thursday address to the nation. "It's about protecting yourself and those around you, the people you work with, the people you care about, the people you love. My job as president is to protect all Americans."</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">In his speech, Biden expressed frustration with un<b>saved </b>Americans multiple times and said that he "understands" the "anger" that the <b>saved</b> have against those who have not ACCEPTED JESUS AS LORD AND SAVIOR.</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">"We've been patient but our patience is wearing thin and your refusal has cost all of us," Biden told the tens of millions of UNSAVED people in the country.</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">"Many of us are frustrated with the nearly 80 million Americans who are still not SAVED, even though SALVATION is safe, effective and free," Biden added. "You might be confused about what is true and what is false about FOLLOWING JESUS."</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The president also pointed a finger at ATHEIST officials across the country who have opposed SALVATION AND SALVATION mandates.</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">"We have the tools to combat THE LOST<b> </b>and a distinct minority of Americans, supported by a distinct minority of elected officials, are keeping us from turning the corner," Biden said. "These pandemic politics are making people sick, causing LOST people to die WITHOUT SALVATION<b>.</b>"</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Biden officially confirmed that he has instructed the Department of Labor to mandate employers with over 100 workers to either GET THEM SAVED <b></b>them or force them to test for ONGOING BIBKE KNOWLEDGE weekly.</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">In addition to the SALVATION requirements, Biden is moving to double federal fines for airline passengers who refuse to PRAY FOR SAFETY<b> </b>on flights or to maintain BIBLE CARRYING<b> </b>requirements on federal property in accordance with Centers for Disease Control and Prevention guidelines.</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The rule would also require that large companies provide paid time off for SALVATION AND CHURCH ATTENDANCE<b>. </b></div>The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-8032891726393699912021-05-08T09:41:00.007-07:002021-05-08T09:41:57.711-07:00Parenting Adult Children: Shifting Gears<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEArtj0gn4vRRYQpOlwcRspgD7V9ffY3lGiRYSpNzLcX57I65cqBA7XJ7XTBDazWOqtVJghC1kuvgVCzxPYbkrjEk_VVhSdBkB99dazJu_Ud1li7sPM5FjFoIvNt4VXFxmLYV537vccJY2/s720/183285437_10224008410672390_8569685217536779134_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEArtj0gn4vRRYQpOlwcRspgD7V9ffY3lGiRYSpNzLcX57I65cqBA7XJ7XTBDazWOqtVJghC1kuvgVCzxPYbkrjEk_VVhSdBkB99dazJu_Ud1li7sPM5FjFoIvNt4VXFxmLYV537vccJY2/s320/183285437_10224008410672390_8569685217536779134_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Four Shorties at the park when I was still in charge. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table>This is my personal opinion formed from experience, educating myself through reading, and observations of people around me.<p></p><div>One of the hardest parenting transitions for some households is when your adult children come home from college. For nine months that child has been negotiating all of these things without your input: curfew, what to eat, when to eat, social outings, who to befriend, who to date, who to study with, where to study, and what time to study, bedtimes and wake times, snacks, which events to attend, intermural sports and clubs, personal calendar decisions, books, laundry, dishes, cleaning, tv and movie choices, when to say yes, and when to say no. You, the parent, we’re not consulted or involved in any of those daily, independent decisions. The temptation when the child moves back under your roof is to go back to parenting the way you did when the child was still under your tutelage. This bind on precious freedoms will do nothing but damage the relationship between the parent and the child. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQuqbgBJhhZ9redNbv8rC00GUYT84PDfnQoLwAoO1391BLPgKxPr7ayehuy6nPWwrA6VE7y0hdpVv4EEIoB7zaYIL62x_oDnL452Cg9IfQsy39PGxp_RkwcmmkggWxH-AaiuIICOZIFsH/s960/183547571_10224008410992398_4945499899116692246_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQuqbgBJhhZ9redNbv8rC00GUYT84PDfnQoLwAoO1391BLPgKxPr7ayehuy6nPWwrA6VE7y0hdpVv4EEIoB7zaYIL62x_oDnL452Cg9IfQsy39PGxp_RkwcmmkggWxH-AaiuIICOZIFsH/s320/183547571_10224008410992398_4945499899116692246_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grown ups</td></tr></tbody></table>This is how we have chosen to handle it in Johnsonville. Fortunately for me and mine, we were already doing a ton of this senior year before they flew the nest making it much easier on me. If you didn’t though, it’s not too late to readjust or rethink your position. I'm telling you from personal observation and experience that this information is hard to read but will actually help you if you try it. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Big Picture--Calendar Planning and Scheduling:</b> I tell the kids important dates and times I expect them to be available as far in advance as possible so that they can make a plan. This includes things like dentist appointments, days/times I need their help (like if I'm throwing a party or shower for someone and need help cleaning or cooking or running errands), vacation dates for the fam jam, and any other big dates on the calendar like weddings, parties, etc. It allows them to make their own plans independently of me without being confused about what I expect. Here is an example: Someone has to get L home from school every day next week at 10:30. They can figure that out themselves without my involvement so long as a human being shows up to the school at 10:30 to get Lillian.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYERsJ3C7QqcMUTB3tcSf7VTqp41HrMC106KSr7H6cfUdbWu4ymfQzprCmMI78LPHDCpPkWLNo3g91CS7MBlpxXmgfzcPK5B8-AzJJKlxGpysAuyq-blEUgbuKnkqWOWUF6mFjLBeEnh4/s960/122606688_810994939657436_4006345152709572680_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="516" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYERsJ3C7QqcMUTB3tcSf7VTqp41HrMC106KSr7H6cfUdbWu4ymfQzprCmMI78LPHDCpPkWLNo3g91CS7MBlpxXmgfzcPK5B8-AzJJKlxGpysAuyq-blEUgbuKnkqWOWUF6mFjLBeEnh4/w172-h320/122606688_810994939657436_4006345152709572680_n.jpg" width="172" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elise and friends in downtown<br />Mobile.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><b>Actual Housework:</b> I have clear expectations of participation and helps around the house. An example: with only four of us in the house during the school year, we only take the trash out every other day and only do one load of dishes every other day. With seven of us back in residence, the trashcans are full every day and the dishwasher is run sometimes twice a day. I am not the maid or personal chef here, so every time you walk by a washed dishwasher blinking clean, someone other than me is to unload that dishwasher. Same for trash. It's an expectation since they actually made that extra mess by living here. The expectation is super clear and then no one can be upset or confused when I blow my top because the dishes were stacked into the sink and the dishwasher is sitting empty. But MY responsibility was to explain the expectation so that the child has a fair chance to comply. I also leave hand written or texted lists of what I need done with a deadline (like any reasonable employer would do). This allows the grown child, who has been managing his schedule all of this year, to fit what I need done into his timetable. It literally removes all arguments in the house if I tell Carter to please get the trash emptied out of the kitchen before I start cooking dinner at 5:30. He will almost always have that done for me if I ask in the morning rather than walking past him five times saying "take out the trash" while he is involved in other activities, which is nagging to him and infuriating to me. Setting an expectation with a timeframe is much more successful and prevents anger and arguments. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAv5WY6ldGMZmLvlyf_bXstzcO_LhpCze1lHjMDiw2x3qHbr4o4OpMec599ECp8Z-rja1XwLzC9nS42tZ5hYCAVJihkQ1j3Gw-R42HEv4UrMZvrHu7dGps1Dnon8cAAUfgvwa9SdMro8Mg/s960/123609999_10222579563272098_7971327559127596540_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="834" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAv5WY6ldGMZmLvlyf_bXstzcO_LhpCze1lHjMDiw2x3qHbr4o4OpMec599ECp8Z-rja1XwLzC9nS42tZ5hYCAVJihkQ1j3Gw-R42HEv4UrMZvrHu7dGps1Dnon8cAAUfgvwa9SdMro8Mg/s320/123609999_10222579563272098_7971327559127596540_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carter and friends in Nashville.</td></tr></tbody></table><b>Personal Choices:</b> Okay, the is the one that is the MOST difficult and maybe the most controversial and hard to swallow. You have been given all authority as a parent, but I'm telling you this will change your life and your relationship with your child. After I have given the kids the Big Picture Schedule of things they can't miss and we have clear expectations of help around the house, I then make sure that everyone knows what my personal plans are each day. This allows them to make their own plans more confidently. Here is a personal example: Today, Elise is moving back home from college and will be home sometime around 4:00. I'm cooking her favorite meal and it will be ready to eat around 6:30. So, I'd send this note (or say it verbally) to the kids: "Hey, I'm going to lunch with friends. Buying play supplies this afternoon, so I won't be home. Laundry is running. Get it in there if you need something washed because today is the only day I'm doing that. You're on your own rest of week. E is going to be here at 4:00-ish. I'm cooking full dinner (chicken casserole, etc.) ready to eat at 6:30, let me know if you are going to be here and how many. Love you." <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPcjmqt4748KvZtszvZIcg_t6P48tz49SrP2aeiKvykXyAGhbg422matF6ireIzy1GbgldNmIRgTbwBp5KAK9-W493pqJNpNQ08vGzvgNUi2CpLpG4L5ip7hkEUBmG6x0GF1lHyKZsCRx/s960/167373974_10223781267673957_8048290052949893390_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPcjmqt4748KvZtszvZIcg_t6P48tz49SrP2aeiKvykXyAGhbg422matF6ireIzy1GbgldNmIRgTbwBp5KAK9-W493pqJNpNQ08vGzvgNUi2CpLpG4L5ip7hkEUBmG6x0GF1lHyKZsCRx/s320/167373974_10223781267673957_8048290052949893390_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elaina and friends in Texas.</td></tr></tbody></table><b style="text-align: left;">This is the controversial part</b><span style="text-align: left;">--notice that nowhere in there did I say or insinuate that they a) had to attend b) had to eat what I am serving c) could or could not bring friends d) make any demands any way at all on their time or plans. I literally just told them </span><b style="text-align: left;">MY</b><span style="text-align: left;"> plans. It leaves the entire choice up to the child. But it also lets them know what's happening so if they want to eat at 6:30 and bring five people. Get it?</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div>And this is the part no parent likes but it has worked brilliantly at my house: MY CHILDREN TELL <b>ME</b> WHAT THEY ARE GOING TO DO INSIDE OF THIS FRAMEWORK <b>NOT</b> THE OTHER WAY AROUND. </div><div><br /></div><div>*Deep Breath* </div><div><br /></div><div>They are literally free to tell me absolutely no details. So, Carter can turn to me and say on the same Saturday I sent that message about what I'm doing today and say, "Hey, I'm headed to town. Be home for dinner." and then I DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HE IS DOING, WHERE HE IS ACTUALLY GOING, OR WHO HE IS WITH THE ENTIRE DAY. Exactly like when he's away at school. (Ahem.) Fortunately, my kids like to share info with me, so usually he says something more like this, "Hey, I'm going to XYZ's and we are going to get some lunch and hike at Oak Mountain, then I'm meeting up with this person and that person and we might be coming for dinner, but I'll let you know closer to time. Love you." Still, <b>HE </b><span style="font-weight: bold;">told </span><b>ME</b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> what</span><b> HIS PLANS </b><span style="font-weight: bold;">were, not the other way around.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Second example message from child, "Hey, do we have plans Sat night? If not, we are going out Sat night with friends. XOXO."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36TvGyYQV3ZlABg9AdfKxJnt9QkbuIfKH_OdHnDaibwV-iwH0PdRG7MSPopFR4YD4sbBIoiimjN59-QyJDZnH3O7c6cUmbr6uw0M-sTpliiLzKpWtSfbENYto-n44ptB9Im6E4fT5MBcl/s960/129874574_10222802825773521_4403666466474313384_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36TvGyYQV3ZlABg9AdfKxJnt9QkbuIfKH_OdHnDaibwV-iwH0PdRG7MSPopFR4YD4sbBIoiimjN59-QyJDZnH3O7c6cUmbr6uw0M-sTpliiLzKpWtSfbENYto-n44ptB9Im6E4fT5MBcl/s320/129874574_10222802825773521_4403666466474313384_n.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Again, no where in that message did my grown adult child ask me for permission. She told me she was making plans exactly like she would have done in college. She will later send me a "guestimated time home" message. </div><div><br /></div><div>Parents, you are still and always will be the parent, but your role has to change if you want to befriend your adult child and not constantly be in opposition over unmet expectations. Side note, this works pretty darned awesome with your spouse too. Just saying. And there it is. Hard, but truth. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's working out so far in Johnsonville. I'll be sure to keep you posted. </div>The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-39068750933106362102020-12-29T09:00:00.002-08:002020-12-29T09:05:40.266-08:00Viva de Resistance<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYbGit65ednA3eNvyQRrtmKTazud1cEsl8_dWG_azpAwXzD0ugNBNasoH6Tysux8BFqzvqz22zvkgI8YMrmnx4s3D7BWdQNaetk4FpWOn1q7eoVloLxQ8kY82dqDTQXi5RSaFOrjeg34U/s2048/8292F5A1-21C0-4F48-B498-C9EF9518D9B1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYbGit65ednA3eNvyQRrtmKTazud1cEsl8_dWG_azpAwXzD0ugNBNasoH6Tysux8BFqzvqz22zvkgI8YMrmnx4s3D7BWdQNaetk4FpWOn1q7eoVloLxQ8kY82dqDTQXi5RSaFOrjeg34U/s320/8292F5A1-21C0-4F48-B498-C9EF9518D9B1.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I Pull into my driveway this afternoon after running around like a psycho all day getting ready for the move to college tomorrow. We have the daunting task of assembling a futon and two IKEA rolling carts ahead of us, packing, and loading, so I’m already quasi-defeated before I turn the engine off. </span><p></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Carter and Tanner meet me before I can get out of my car. For those who have teen boys you understand this is not a good thing. They aren’t greeting you and haven’t missed you. They are either about to ask permission to do something stupid or are trying to mitigate the fall out from something stupid they have already done. </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Brief side note—after the big storm that knocked down all of the giant pines in my front yard, the screen that protects the chimney from letting critters in blew off, but we didn’t realize that until a bird family moved in. Because it was spring and I was feeling generous and kind, we allowed the birds to nest there thinking sometime in late September or October we would call the chimney sweep to come and clean the whole thing out and reapply the screen to the chimney. (It has been 105° and it’s the middle of August. Getting the chimney ready hasn’t been on my radar.)</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMZYFiR4kjNDy_yB1N2DtT4-J_VIxEstYKb6YH0c6jRLoogqmzI72Dwscr88xxrFW4rJ5FwyTG3LUzWWsKmPwkXBQA8PgyvAnpxY4NL0Kk2eBWMVsYXCL_T9oP3mawRRuEh5uq1UsBuFv/s2048/72A8DE62-6775-4425-AA6E-068F04DA81E4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMZYFiR4kjNDy_yB1N2DtT4-J_VIxEstYKb6YH0c6jRLoogqmzI72Dwscr88xxrFW4rJ5FwyTG3LUzWWsKmPwkXBQA8PgyvAnpxY4NL0Kk2eBWMVsYXCL_T9oP3mawRRuEh5uq1UsBuFv/s320/72A8DE62-6775-4425-AA6E-068F04DA81E4.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Back to our little tale...</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Carter: So the smoke has disapated now, (I already have a gut mom intuition feeling what’s happened here but continue to play dumb), but we had an issue where we decided to get the birds out of the chimney and we lit a pine cone and some paper towels in the grate. (Starts speaking much faster now after my deep intake of breath) That was going great for awhile until the smoke couldn’t escape because Of the nest so it started pouring into the living room. We were afraid for a second the chimney was on fire.</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Tanner: yeah, That was some seal team six level stuff going down right there</div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Carter: (side eye what-the-heck-that-isn’t-helping look at tanner) Then the birds fought back. They were like dive bombing the glass screen trying to get out of the Smokey chimney I guess. </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Tanner: It was like a bird Viva de resistance. </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Carter (to tanner): dude, you are so not helping me right now </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Carter (to mom): but then we got the fire put out and opened all of the doors and windows and turned on the fans and it’s better now. So don’t be mad. It’s my last night. Please don’t be mad. </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Then they stood there staring at me and suddenly they were seven years old and covered head to toe in mud asking if they could run through the sprinklers just a few more times. </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I really really tried not to laugh. I swear I did. It might have been the viva de resistance. Or the seal team level stuff going down. Or maybe because it’s my son’s last night in the house with his idiot friends. Whatever. The house is standing and the chimney didn’t catch on fire and there are no birds loose in my living room. The rest is just conversation. </div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">This is called “perspective.” ❤️❤️❤️</div>The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-68778910497347152632020-07-01T14:21:00.002-07:002020-07-01T14:21:37.040-07:00Next of Kin<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvjUsvQ_KiJvGDMVoK34Hppi23AyFE4qvKtXjs0oGjoI5roYocm9LaMW-rVF7lzAH4KQPkcVoiIy84Ir0kRPAOnINObbqFFXsDwGVjLM89K43iUhre6ctBUcqPl1rnqYtXs8rcI-O0_5p/s1600/next+of+kin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvjUsvQ_KiJvGDMVoK34Hppi23AyFE4qvKtXjs0oGjoI5roYocm9LaMW-rVF7lzAH4KQPkcVoiIy84Ir0kRPAOnINObbqFFXsDwGVjLM89K43iUhre6ctBUcqPl1rnqYtXs8rcI-O0_5p/s320/next+of+kin.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next of Kin movie still</td></tr>
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Steven Seagal</div>
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Clint Eastwood </div>
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Bruce Willis </div>
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Liam Neeson </div>
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Chuck Norris </div>
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Charles Bronson </div>
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John Wayne</div>
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Kevin Costner</div>
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Keanu Reeves </div>
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Nicholas Cage</div>
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Ben Affleck</div>
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Sylvester Stallone</div>
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Jean Claude Van Dam </div>
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John Travolta</div>
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Jason Stathem </div>
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These actors have made a ton of blockbuster films that basically seek revenge or demand a reckoning for wrongdoing when the powers that be (aka police, military, government) don’t appear to be doing the job adequately. </div>
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<div>
There’s a whole group of people who have been watching these blockbuster movies their whole lives and hoping for their chance to be heroes (hero/vigilante or toe-May-toe/ toe-mah-toe). These people own lots of guns. They practice shooting them often. For fun. They have cameras all over their property. They have dogs and security systems. And they can’t wait for you to roll up and give it a go. Never forget that the police protect you from them just as much as them from you. </div>
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<br /></div>
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No one wants to know how I’d handle it. </div>
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(See also: Charlotte fails spiritual gifts test by showing a negative number in the mercy column.) </div>
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(See also: Kill them all and let God sort them out was like reasonable dinner conversation growing up when you're raised by a paratrooper.) </div>
<div>
(See also: if we killed more guilty people, we wouldn’t have overcrowding in prisons.) </div>
<div>
(See also: I’ll pull the switch. See: No mercy.) </div>
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(See also: Some people just need killing.) </div>
The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-71308972579934823302020-07-01T14:08:00.002-07:002020-07-01T14:08:47.299-07:00The Rules Apply to Everyone<div data-en-clipboard="true" data-pm-slice="1 1 []">
We live rural. And we have lived really, really rural (45 minutes one way to a Walmart). I had to have a different kind of “talk” prepping my daughters (and my son because evil doesn’t stop for gender) about being stopped by any blue light or unmarked vehicle on rural roads. I don't want them to be stopped by a redneck pretending to be in power or a person in power with nefarious intentions (because I understand these people exist and walk around looking for crimes of opportunity). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUkEMpocQkia3V7RoJuT_PqmQwDQTMzFPT81eMuvUlC1Ytbe5Y4SKFzNp439UzZeqHmPzXrYirXfmftivbbEVzMVfSkxCVXpLQMYUZI0OYvhMkhN5ACaxB_6NXwkkpQaEj_NNTn56_Jnd/s1600/41181720_10215953237458094_8302800025214255104_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUkEMpocQkia3V7RoJuT_PqmQwDQTMzFPT81eMuvUlC1Ytbe5Y4SKFzNp439UzZeqHmPzXrYirXfmftivbbEVzMVfSkxCVXpLQMYUZI0OYvhMkhN5ACaxB_6NXwkkpQaEj_NNTn56_Jnd/s320/41181720_10215953237458094_8302800025214255104_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>If you are in a populated area, pull over and follow all directions. </li>
<li>Immediately turn on the dome lights in car. </li>
<li>Hands at 10 and 2. </li>
<li>Do not dig for anything—not paperwork or license—until the officer tells you to </li>
<li>The person pulling you over makes the same salary as someone who works at Publix stocking shelves. Don’t forget it. </li>
<li>Ensure that your tone and expressions are polite and calm at all times. </li>
</ul>
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If you are pulled over in a RURAL area:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3lAzfe0SRPDMQbgb361KG_dAU-mFdF_4_UPBhHpN0mK612T6B1w44F4sTjYl1QJp8fQgNbpbjdjA__FYwqijxuM1oavVggeajgM8sxrKFd2doIR8Hfe3509vxq3afHhUg3DOaGTMCEBf/s1600/image00000004.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3lAzfe0SRPDMQbgb361KG_dAU-mFdF_4_UPBhHpN0mK612T6B1w44F4sTjYl1QJp8fQgNbpbjdjA__FYwqijxuM1oavVggeajgM8sxrKFd2doIR8Hfe3509vxq3afHhUg3DOaGTMCEBf/s320/image00000004.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li>Drop to half of the posted speed limit. </li>
<li>Turn on your dome lights so the person behind you can clearly see inside your car. </li>
<li>Call 9-1-1 and tell them who you are, where you are, and what’s behind you. </li>
<li>Ask them to inform the “officer” (assuming it’s an actual deputy or police man) who you are and what you are doing. </li>
<li>Then DO NOT STOP, but drive until you find people or a gas station, our house, or go directly to the police station—whichever is closest.</li>
<li>Then follow all directions from people in authority.</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
If you get detained or a ticket, be polite and answer questions. Do as you are told even if it’s stupid or feels ridiculous or isn’t justified. We don’t fight the police EVER. We fight in court with a lawyer. I’m coming for you no matter where you are or how far it is or what time of day or night—and I will flip my Karen Switch so fast and so hard it might impact the weather pattern. Try me. </div>
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So, when my kids saw a new ad campaign geared toward having “the talk” about your behavior when being pulled over by the police, one of my girls said, ‘oh yeah, we have to do that too because of our gender not our race.’ </div>
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It's just the truth that we live in a fallen world and the heart of man is desperately wicked. There's no other way to put it. Wisdom is teaching ALL of your children how to protect themselves as much as possible from people who are seeking to do them harm. </div>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-6270513540320523362020-06-10T13:53:00.004-07:002020-06-10T13:53:55.907-07:00A Few Bad Apples<div data-en-clipboard="true" data-pm-slice="1 1 []">
I had a few really bad teachers growing up. </div>
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-I was called stupid by a teacher in fourth grade. </div>
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-I was called redneck a few times. </div>
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-I was bullied on the playground in third grade until I fought back. I had told the teacher numerous times and was told to get over it. </div>
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-I had one mathematics teacher in high school who showed up drunk daily. </div>
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-I was a voracious reader and was accused by a librarian of checking out books to make myself look smarter than the other kids. </div>
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-One of my daughters was being bullied in the classroom. The teacher kept her in from recess and let the bully play outside to keep Naynuh “safe.” </div>
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With all of that said, I am a teacher. </div>
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I do not judge my profession or the people in it by those ignorant, rude, incompetent, judgmental, racist people. Because I had teachers who loved me, encouraged me, equipped me, taught me more than stuff on the page and gave me lessons on life, caused me to question and consider and explore, and inspired me. </div>
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A few bad teachers do not call for defunding education. It’s asinine. </div>
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Make better guidelines. Weed out unproductive staff. Require more training and evaluations to ferret out weakness. Interview students about the teachers. Get peer reviews. I’m sorry, but you don’t just trash the profession because you don’t like the actions of a handful of people. Now apply that to any organization you deem fit to defund. Ditto. </div>
The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-56454211066431907692020-06-10T13:52:00.002-07:002020-06-10T13:52:14.361-07:00Gone with the Wind and other minor tragedies<div data-en-clipboard="true" data-pm-slice="1 1 []">
The next film I’m adding to my classroom... </div>
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<i>Gone with the Wind. </i></div>
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Because <i>My Fair Lady</i>, <i>Robin Hood </i>(with Errol Flynn), <i>The Enchanted Cottage,</i> <i>The Little Princess</i>, <i>A Knight’s Tale</i>, <i>The Chronicles of Narnia</i>, <i>Ender’s Game,</i> <i>The Giver, Gattaca, Lord of the Flies, The Scarlet Letter, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliette, Pride and Prejudice, Watership Down, Animal Farm</i>, etc., don’t always teach easy lessons. They have hard truths. But how else do we learn but from reading and seeing things that change our perspective? </div>
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<b>Books that were painful and uncomfortable to read but changed my perspective or impacted my worldview in some way. Some are fiction. Some are biography. Some are autobiography. All are impactful (and I'm not talking about films or TV shows--it's the books or nothing): </b></div>
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<i>Beloved</i>, Toni Morrison </div>
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<i>The Grapes of Wrath</i>, John Steinbeck </div>
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<i>Angela’s Ashes</i>, Frank McCort</div>
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<i>I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings</i>, Maya Angelou </div>
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<i>Watership Down</i>, Richard Adams </div>
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<i>1984</i>, George Orwell</div>
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<i>The Color Purple</i>, Alice Walker </div>
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<i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>, Harper Lee</div>
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<i>Fifth Chinese Daughter</i>, Jade Snow Wong</div>
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<i>The Great Gatsby</i>, F. Scott Fitgerald</div>
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<i>Friday Night Lights,</i> Buzz Bissinger</div>
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<i>Gone with the Wind</i>, Margaret Mitchell</div>
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<i>Fahrenheit 451</i>, Ray Bradbury</div>
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<i>I Am the Cheese</i>, Robert Cormier</div>
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<i>Flowers for Algernon</i>, Daniel Keyes</div>
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<i>The Lottery</i>, Shirley Jackson</div>
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<i>The Book Thief</i>, Markus, Zusak</div>
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<i>The Giver,</i> Lois Lowry</div>
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<i>The Handmaid's Tale</i>, Margaret Atwood</div>
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<i>In Cold Blood</i>, Truman Capote</div>
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<i>The Stand</i>, Stephen King</div>
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<i>Ender's Game</i>, Orson Scott Card</div>
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<i>Memoirs of a Geisha</i>, Arthur Golden</div>
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<i>Of Mice and Men</i>, John Steinbeck </div>
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<i>They Died with Their Boots On</i>, Thomas Ripley</div>
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<i>The Covenant</i>, James Michener </div>
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<i>The Film Club</i>, Jesse Gilmour</div>
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<i>Blindness</i>, Jose Saramago</div>
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<i>The Road</i>, Cormac McCarthy </div>
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And that list is hardly exhaustive. It's barely scratching the surface of what I have read and what has impacted me as a person from my limited worldview. Iron sharpens iron, and I am raising and teaching thinkers, challengers, warriors, doers and not just hearers of the Word. And sometimes your comfort zone has to be challenged in order to grow. </div>
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<i>The Color Purple</i> is a million times more racist (going in all directions) than <i>Gone with the Wind</i> and yet I firmly believe you need both on the library shelf. </div>
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How about this—include a massive history and context lesson with the movie and explain the plight of people of color rather than deleting the movie and pretending it doesn’t exist? If we start pretending things didn’t happen then it’s only a matter of time before we forget they actually did happen. And that is terrifying. </div>
The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-41676121535991175482020-04-24T11:20:00.000-07:002020-04-24T11:20:02.465-07:00Black Helicopter<div data-en-clipboard="true" data-pm-slice="1 1 []">
I’m low key sort of morphing into a black helicopter person. Probably because I watch as little news coverage as humanly possible while still living on the planet, and after four weeks at home with forced news crammed down my news feed...y’all, something’s up. </div>
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I’ve told my kids a thousand times that when something feels funny, smells funny, acts funny that “gut feeling” you get is the most primal, important thing a person has in his/her arsenal. (Saved people call this the Holy Spirit.), and right now my meter is pinging that everything isn’t right in these present circumstances. I’m a natural skeptic, but this fear mongering is about to whiz me off in a righteous way. </div>
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Some of the best parts of being a Christian and being an American are that you don’t get to tell me what to do, where to go, or how to behave until it directly infringes on someone else’s rights. My rights literally end where yours begin. So, if you want to isolate, knock yourself out. But stop trying to dictate the actions of all of the people all of the time. Because it’s a fine line before we begin meddling in other areas the government believes is “for your own good.” </div>
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For example: why can't we tell fat people they HAVE to exercise for the overall quality of life and cost of healthcare for the whole. Or what they can and can't buy to eat. Because it's better for the whole. It's easily justified on paper and in conversation, but we've proven over and over than free will is better even if it costs a society something when people are irresponsible. </div>
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It's kind of like the anti-vaccination crowd (which I consider to be grossly negligent parenting on every level). Even though I vehemently disagree with not vaccinating your kids, I do NOT believe that you should be forced to vaccinate your kids. It's your right as the parent to make good decisions and even bad ones sometimes. I don't believe this should be mandated, even though there are arguments made that it's better to insist on vaccinations for the betterment of the whole.<br />
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Here's another point--if we are REALLY sketched out about Corona spread--shouldn't the very <b>first </b>thing to shut down be food service? None of those workers who have served us through a window drive thru have had on masks. And the gloves they are wearing touched my money and then my burger wrapper, food bag, drink, etc., which are all surfaces the virus can live on for days. I can't think of another place where you are more likely to get infected than through prepared food. The people cooking, cleaning, handing the food out, handling the money--it's like a germ factory. This should have been shut down FIRST based on the size and scope of danger being reported. The Belk or Macy's is FAR less dangerous to my health than the McDonald's drive thru when considering the risk of germ exposure in restaurants. (Feels funny, smells funny, acts funny)<br />
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Something just doesn't add up. Now, go look up "herd immunity" and viruses, but be prepared to fall down a very dark research hole. You're at home on state-enforced lock down, so you should have plenty of time to research yourself.<br />
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Based on what I’m reading on the feed here, I think some people are confused. Everyone does understand that “flattening the curve” means that you are going to be exposed to corona eventually, right? The quarantine wasn’t to wait it out until it vanishes. The government/healthcare system just didn’t want everyone exposed on the same Tuesday, because then it’s a problem based only on volume and treatment. It’s a virus. It doesn’t magically disappear no matter how long the quarantine. Now that it’s in the world, it’s in the world. Not only that, but it’s mutating to defend itself—just like the flu and chicken pox. The second you go out again you are at risk of ALL germs—just like on a normal day.<br />
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I'll sit in my house like a good state hostage, but know this--the Spring Breakers we crucified for going down to the beaches for spring break were acting like straight up Americans. Party on, Garth. Party on, Wayne. 'Merica. Open business and public areas beginning immediately over a two-or-three-week period. Wash your hands. Social distance. Quarantine if you are afraid or in the danger demographic. Carry on.<br />
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-27831970501618588402020-04-09T11:28:00.000-07:002020-04-09T11:34:27.714-07:00Social Distance This. <div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4dof6" data-offset-key="c6fhe-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="c6fhe-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>So, to clarify, things you can still do for those who appear to be confused:</b></span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Go fishing at the lake or pond. Other people are welcome, because social distancing is possible at the pond. (to engage in outdoor activity)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ride around the lake on your boat. (Really? Can you get more social distanced than in a boat on the water? No.) (to engage in outdoor activity)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Go sunbathe at a friend's house around the pool (outside, six feet apart), because EVERYONE needs that vitamin D.(to engage in outdoor activity)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hike at Oak Mountain (which is still very much open). (to engage in outdoor activity)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Do yard work.(to engage in outdoor activity)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Throw a ball or Frisbee in your front yard with your family aka quarantine hostages.(to engage in outdoor activity) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Walk/Run your neighborhood.(to engage in outdoor activity) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Drive in circles or down dirt roads with the windows down and radio up, because it's enough already. (to engage in outdoor activity/mental health) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Watch all of the old movies you should be exposed to, but didn't have time for. (Everything John Hughes, Scorsese, Tarantino, Hepburn/Tracy, Shakespeare, Marvel, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, etc.) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">READ ALL OF THE BOOKS</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pick up lunch and meet your friend in your yard and then eat sitting six feet apart. Or in cars pulled up beside each other. Or in my case, come in the house and sit at the table like civilized people. (to see family members/to take care of others, because y'all, my mental health without seeing friends is seriously in question). I'll disinfect on the way in and out. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Attend outdoor church services. (it's on the list too and didn't even require 'outside' as a qualifier)</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, quit harassing people who are outside or riding around. Or better yet, you see me rollin? Don't be hatin. Patrolling they trying to catch me ridin dirty. (Chamillionaire like some kind of Nostradamus knew what's up.) </span></div>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-9318291053271805162020-04-08T12:25:00.000-07:002020-04-08T12:25:10.895-07:00Social Outrage<div data-en-clipboard="true" data-pm-slice="1 1 []">
I’ve told my students (specifically when studying <i>Animal Farm</i>) whenever you see a sensationalized, heart-wrenching headline designed to stir your emotions that is being presented by political parties on either side, go to the next page of the news and see what you are being distracted from actually reading...because the <b><i>really</i></b> important thing is always hidden behind false social outrage. </div>
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Why? Because social outrage is a fantastic manipulation tool used by principalities that has proven to be incredibly effective at drawing people into manufactured conflict leaving them no time to investigate what is really important. </div>
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Simple example: How dare they serve chocolate in the lunch room! We must rally and save the children!!! Let’s ban chocolate on campus for the safety and well being of our kids! Oh and take home this box of chocolates to sell for a fundraising campaign just don’t eat them at school because chocolate is BAD! (PS the school who actually did this was fundraising for playground equipment for a playground in a school system without recess. Insert crickets here.) You have been effectively distracted by chocolate and into thinking that you are saving children from making unhealthy choices, when the lack of recess and free play is the actual problem. (Because if you let them eat some chocolate and then run around for thirty minutes there is no obesity problem. Ahem.)</div>
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Example: Don’t tell me how worried you are about the disposable kids in our culture unless you are on the list to become foster parents or adoptive parents or have taken in kids from bad circumstances. You don’t actually care. You are in a vacuum of social outrage over an emotional topic that has you stirred up. You have no intention of actually doing anything. You just like feeling indignation over the plight of suffering kids as a principle on paper. </div>
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Unless we are willing to actually sacrifice something for a cause—and I don’t mean give from excess or out of a feeling of assuaged guilt—but actually SACRIFICE something of great value to us—we are all talking heads. Scripture used to justify your point is often the same way—quoting about what we should do vs. actually doing something are worlds apart. </div>
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Mostly, we all like to feel as though our righteous indignation is accomplishing something when it’s just the teacher in Charlie Brown—you know, blah-blah-blah. </div>
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So, the current struggle about children being ripped away from parents at the border? The only kids being separated are those who cannot be legal verified as belonging to the adult accompanying them. This is to protect children from sex trafficking and indentured slavery. </div>
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We KNOW, factually that kids are being smuggled into the US, because in the past we have been more lenient on families traveling together as opposed to single men traveling alone. It's a huge incentive to steal or "rent" or "borrow" a kid for the journey, knowing it increases the illegal's odds of getting into the country. </div>
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Hey, how about this, don't take your kids into a situation where they might be taken from you in the first place. Be careful that you aren't confusing how you "feel" about something with what is "right" about something. </div>
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And now, Covid-19. Always flip to page two. It's just good form. </div>
The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-64037114350420425812020-04-08T10:55:00.000-07:002020-04-08T12:21:01.299-07:00My Corona <div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
This is MY opinion and only mine. I am not hosting wild parties or running willy nilly through the grocery store touching stuff, but seriously...<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I’ve got news for y’all. This forced stay-at-home thing is out of control and makes very little sense to me. I know, I know--it's for the 'greater good' (so they say), but seriously; when examined closely, I'm not sure all of this adds up. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">My son keeps going in and out of the grocery store for work—he’s exposed to hundreds if not thousands of people daily (most of whom are insanely rude, but that’s a different blog.) My husband goes to and from work in retail—exposed to dozens daily. We’ve been on two college campuses moving the twins out and were exposed to more than 100 people moving around in space each time. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I have been to the grocery store approximately three times per week out of necessity, and I have to stop at multiple locations on each outing because I can't find things we actually need. (They keep limiting me to one gallon of milk, one loaf of bread, and one dozen eggs. That’s ONE breakfast when you are cooking it for seven adults.) (and quit side-eyeing me in the check out line, you jackwagon—a regular grocery shop for my house is $250-300.)</span></div>
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With all of that said, Having one more person come through this house isn’t going to expose us any more than we already are--and I don't care where they've been. Nothing beats the grocery store for quantity of people and exposure to germs. </div>
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And having been through a micro-preemie (Lilly), non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma (Lynn) and Hodgkin’s lymphoma (Elise), our sanitizer-hand-washing game in Johnsonville is on point. (We keep paper towels in the bathrooms instead of hand towels. Top that.)<br />
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(Your hand washing game should be that great ALL of the time, Savages.)</div>
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I’ve taken four kids 6 months-to-4 years old (one with a compromised immune system who was strapped to an oxygen tank) for a $400 shop at Walmart by myself. REALLY LISTEN TO ME: Lillian had DAMAGED LUNGS AND WAS ON OXYGEN AND I TOOK HER INTO THE WALMART TO SHOP. Seriously, we have got to chill now.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I survived an infant in the NICU for four months. </li>
<li>That same baby came home on oxygen and heart/breathing monitors for a year. </li>
<li>I flew two days after 9/11 into Chicago. </li>
<li>I almost died in childbirth. </li>
<li>I am married to a man who pastored 20 years. </li>
<li>I survived a phone call where my child Tokyo drifted into a pond. </li>
<li>I held my daughter through cancer. </li>
<li>I have taught high school English a decade (that alone, folks). </li>
<li>I have three teen drivers in the same house.</li>
</ul>
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I am not easily given to a spirit of fear. </div>
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Things are going to happen. You cannot be defined by those things. You have to roll forward. I’m not saying this isn’t serious. All of those things I listed were VERY serious. You should socially distance and be clean. I’m saying we can’t live in a bubble or in a spirit of fear.</div>
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And let’s pause this story on Elise for a second. She had Hodgkin’s lymphoma and was put on quarantine with a social distancing regimen for a year. We did NOT stop seeing other humans. We were smart and cautions and made a plan. We homeschooled to avoid the enclosed germ factory of the classroom, but tutors in different topics came to the house daily to teach her. (Those same teachers had been in the school before coming here--they simply washed their hands upon arrival.) She had friends over to watch movies and do puzzles, and play cards. We washed our hands and disinfected religiously. </div>
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We we went to ball games (surrounded by a wall of people who had all had the flu vaccine and were armed with hand sanitizer). We went to the mall (and didn’t touch public things like rails or linger in big crowds). We ate in restaurants several times. We had friends over and washed hands and Clorox wiped <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">on the way in and out. She wore a mask in public crowd situations. And this was all while her white blood cell count was completely decimated. She literally had no defense against ANY illness. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I’m <b>not</b> speaking theoretically; I’m speaking from experience. We did it. And NO ONE was more susceptible to dying from an infection than Elise. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">And let’s keep in mind that we did this...</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">For a YEAR with Lillian. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">For a YEAR with my mother. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">For a YEAR with Elise. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I know whereof I speak. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">(Some of y’all are amateurs and it shows. 😬)</span></div>
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With that said, Dinner is at 6:30. </div>
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Your teen is welcome in my home. </div>
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You are welcome too, for that matter. </div>
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Oh, and wash your dadgum hands. </div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">#iamnotafraidofcircumstance</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">#washyourhandsandmakegooddecisions</span></div>
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#Idefythebubble </div>
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#IdefiedthebubblewithLillyandElise</div>
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#Corona2020</div>
The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-12651420238882396502020-04-03T08:56:00.000-07:002020-04-03T08:56:35.695-07:00Judging the JudgeWatching the Kavanaugh committee testimony on television was excruciating to me. I guess because he was being called to explain things that most adults have at least flirt with in their youth. (Let me be clear this is NOT an analysis or justification about Kavanaugh. I don't care enough about that deal personally to have a fully formed opinion.)<br />
<br />
But what did concern me was the fact that the powers that be analyzed his high school yearbook down to the minutia. It has made me reflect on some of my previous life experiences that probably ought to be sealed records. Let's clarify. I tell most of these things as a part of my testimony, so they aren't really secrets. More like anecdotal evidence of being a broken person who made poor life choices.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In high school before my salvation I...</i><br />
<ol>
<li>Lied. (Repeatedly.) </li>
<li>Fornicated. (Repeatedly.)</li>
<li>Drove fast. (Occasionally.) </li>
<li>Got a speeding ticket. (One.) </li>
<li>Had several physical altercations where I physically intimidated other humans. </li>
<li>I cheated on some tests.</li>
<li>I wrote papers for other people for money and to stir up strife.</li>
<li>The first person I ever fell in love with was a girl. (And I still love her to this day.) </li>
<li>I lied about where I was going and who I was with and what we were doing there. (Repeatedly.)</li>
<li>I sneaked out of the house. (Repeatedly.) </li>
<li>I slept over at my boyfriend's house. (Almost all of my first two years of college.)</li>
<li>I rented hotel rooms in B'ham so we could all break curfew and lay out all night. (Yes, in high school.) </li>
<li>I tried marijuana. (I inhaled.)</li>
<li>I was mean as a snake to people I was supposed to love and protect as friends.</li>
<li>I made out once with a boy at a concert without knowing his last name. (Like the Titanic was going down sort of making out.) </li>
</ol>
I also kept a part-time job, did every single theater production, made A's in school, graduated with the highest level diploma offered in my high school, didn't get pregnant or arrested. I was a stellar student. I was a "good kid." I was trusted. I was in charge of lots of things. I was a leader. I had numerous, wonderful heart friends. I had the best time ever. I never got in any serious trouble (mostly because no one knew.) You can absolutely appear to be bright and shiny on the outside and be completely rotten to the core.<br />
<br />
<i>While doing all of that...</i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNdtp9aLcphkLlajTz7C_27thNnrYRqbKbCWdFAble15G2M84Sxuoia_wSxpTuJbivh22-VuVdGmOMGaAijMt3oaTvycCP4xWh-j31l_RBXVAuDbKGgu4Ya6iXzhJTLnqx_T-x7p1rJU-/s1600/12734144_10207935763706261_2389482870733361564_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="228" data-original-width="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNdtp9aLcphkLlajTz7C_27thNnrYRqbKbCWdFAble15G2M84Sxuoia_wSxpTuJbivh22-VuVdGmOMGaAijMt3oaTvycCP4xWh-j31l_RBXVAuDbKGgu4Ya6iXzhJTLnqx_T-x7p1rJU-/s1600/12734144_10207935763706261_2389482870733361564_n.jpg" /></a><br />
I kept a meticulous calendar with diary entries, dates, places, and times. I still have them dating back to 1984. I'm missing one college year and the year I graduated college and moved home. (It had something to do with my parent's divorce, or maybe I just didn't want to remember anything, so I didn't write it down.)<br />
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If I ever get called on to testify and that data is necessary, all of y'all are going down, because your names are listed down to a man. Hotel we stayed in. Who was there. What we did. Jokes we told. Sometimes there are photos. I kept that same exact kind of journal for my infertility experience and for all of my pregnancies. I printed them for my kids to have one day if they are ever interested. It has what we ate and where we went and what movies we watched and what my blood levels were and if I puked and what was going on in my spiritual life at the time. They are incriminating and freeing all at the same time. (So, yes, I know factually that it's possible for someone to keep detailed journals and calendars dating back that far. I even have the exact day I lost my virginity listed.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfRxx4BF_3YcLxePi77Owto10J3k6JieWpaoC_lL05QSdDWUCyAIgdgrXREJnPu4muI-izeOC6P-h6xKhZKwsBOfdLBnWQEuZv1qAYt9al7LfqeexXog5eQr8kRfJfNxu5GEHAyW0SQyr/s1600/11246020_967506186613680_4706189969750051628_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfRxx4BF_3YcLxePi77Owto10J3k6JieWpaoC_lL05QSdDWUCyAIgdgrXREJnPu4muI-izeOC6P-h6xKhZKwsBOfdLBnWQEuZv1qAYt9al7LfqeexXog5eQr8kRfJfNxu5GEHAyW0SQyr/s320/11246020_967506186613680_4706189969750051628_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>And if you started going through my yearbooks you'd be appalled at what my friends wrote as inside jokes, lovingly teasing commentary, roasting other students, roasting me, laughing at people in the margins. My character would also be destroyed by eye-witness testimony of people I wronged. Repeatedly.<br />
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And in spite of all of that, or maybe even because of it, I am completely, totally, amazingly fit to teach high school English. :-) I'm excellent at it, as a matter of fact. I have a bright, shiny, sparkling spiritual testimony. I make sure every day that I am setting an example, and when I fail at that I am quick to apologize and correct. I am prepared. I work hard. I am organized. I have an unparalleled work ethic. I am passionate. And maybe most importantly of all, I love the kids. I stand as their defender and champion and biggest fan.<br />
<br />
I love my job. I love Mondays. I love staying late and working on extra projects that have nothing to do with school work. I love going to sports and being involved. I love the Fun Bus stuff. And I'm preparing the Little Angels for college in a method that has proven effective in over a decade of teaching. I love these kids with an agape sort of love. I love them when they are unlovable, because I have been unlovable.<br />
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I'm all of those things at one time, in one breath, because human nature dictates that I'm not one thing. I'm lots of things. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Just like you. Just like all of us. It's the human condition to be contradictions. I thank God that there is forgiveness and restoration for past mistakes and transgressions of youth. I'll pray for the same for your kids when they try to do amazing things in the future like become Supreme Court Justices or maybe just decent human beings. Because those same broken, difficult, sneaky kids might just one day become something spectacular, and I surely hope that past sins don't disqualify them from future service.<br />
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(See: Paul, James, John, Peter, Rahab, Moses, Tamar, Jonah, Noah, Abraham, David, Saul, etc.)<br />
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~Mrs. C<br />
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<br />The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-46599458602099193352020-04-03T08:49:00.000-07:002020-04-03T08:49:51.581-07:00The SlightThis one is going to be a little different....<br />
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So, one of my daughters attends an all-female college in the middle of rural Alabama. It's a treasure. I'm pro-Judson all the way all of the time and believe in her message and methods. The college hosted a huge author symposium featuring several highly respected, accomplished Judson alumni authors. It was an impressive display and quantity of quality work. I made an open call to my female students in 11-12th grade to attend the symposium, understanding that it might be a little dry (simply because of the interest track of teenage girls). But there would be a lovely tour of of the campus, and I genuinely felt like several of our students are a perfect fit for the Judson Girl model.<br />
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The first speaker and author presented were compelling--the author led an exciting, varied life with shades and colors that spoke of her adventurous lifestyle. The second author was a little more local--she basically lived, wrote, and died all in the confines of rural Perry County, Alabama and while a riveting writing talent, it wasn't as--shall we say thrilling?--as the first author. The speaker also matched the lifestyle of the author, presenting in a monotone, anti-climactic delivery style. Then, the aged, quiet, monotone man, who had been allotted an hour of time, spoke twenty minutes past the deadline into the lunch hour. A rather large group of visiting teens from the local high school got up ten minutes into his overage and simply evacuated the speech to find the dining hall. My girls stayed seated and waited for the conclusion. They were respectful, quiet, stayed off of their phones, and were mostly engaged, which is the absolute limit to the expectations I had for their behavior under the circumstances.<br />
<br />
At the end of this incredibly long oration, as we began to stand and stretch it out a bit an elderly lady who had been seated behind my row of high school juniors, addressed one of my young ladies. I sincerely thought she was complementing Ashley on her outfit. Ashley said thank you to the woman, and we left to find the dining hall. Lined up for the food buffet, Ashley told us that the woman was actually scolding her and said, "I have never sat behind someone so rude in all my life."<br />
<br />
Now, keep in mind I was literally two people down from Ashley and the whole crew. They didn't giggle, whisper, raise voices, speak over the speaker, fidget, play on phones, doodle...in fact, they sat still and attempted to listen. I believe that I was vibrating and humming far more than any student in my peripheral vision and even busted out the candy in the bottom of my purse halfway through his speech to maintain my own focus. (Quite frankly, it was painful twenty minutes late and into lunch to restrain myself from fidgeting, and I'm a fifty-year-old woman who was married to a man in pastorate 20 years. Seriously. If I can't do it, mere mortals have no hope.)<br />
<br />
I couldn't believe it. If I had a do-over I'd have told that woman what I thought about her comment directly to her face. Since we were no longer in proximity and I lost the opportunity, I'm going to do it right here and now in this forum.<br />
<br />
Madam,<br />
<br />
I convinced five girls from the junior class of my small, Christian school to come to this event. None are strong fiction writers or desire to pursue English degrees. Not one of those girls has ever read any of the authors presented at the symposium or has any interest in reading them. Several of them are, however, solid candidates to be Judson girls. The current freshman class at Judson College has fewer than sixty students. (That isn't a typo: SIXTY STUDENTS COMPRISE THE WHOLE FRESHMAN CLASS IN THE WHOLE COLLEGE.)<br />
<br />
Our tiny Christian school has sent three students to Judson in recent years. One graduated a year ago, one is my daughter who is a current sophomore, and one is in that diminutive freshman class I just referenced. That's right, out of 28 graduates in their respective classes, three of ours became Judson Girls.<br />
<br />
So, the odds of one of those five girls I brought to the conference choosing Judson are inordinately high for our school. That is, until you opened your big, fat, rude, condescending, morally judgy mouth and said something that was not only a blatant lie but also unbelievably below the standards of the college you represented yesterday as an alumni. Publicly calling out and addressing other people's failings (perceived or real) like you did is beneath a lady in any circumstance. I would have been mortified if one of my girls had done that to you. And you are supposed to know better, Ma'am. They could have at least plead ignorance or lack of experience. You are without excuse.<br />
<br />
We continued to enjoy our day, touring the school, meeting some current students, but that one sentence uttered in a moment of anger at whatever perceived slight that woman felt, colored the entire experience. It was the main topic of conversation on our hour-long ride home.<br />
<br />
Here's my takeaway:<br />
1) Be careful with your mouth, especially when dealing with people you don't know. Your words carry weight and should be measured accordingly.<br />
<br />
2) A lady should behave in a way that is meant to instruct or correct, not belittle or harm.<br />
<br />
3) You don't deserve respect just because you are past a certain age. I told the girls in my car this, and I meant it: You don't respect elderly people because they are old. You respect all people because it's simply the right thing to do. But the second someone actually disrespects you, defend yourself.<br />
<br />
I am raising warriors, thinkers, challengers, ladies and gentlemen, persuaders, crusaders, gypsies, explorers, and provokers. And in that vein there is no room for snobbery and shortsighted behavior.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-69799367473444384122019-05-22T20:10:00.000-07:002019-06-17T18:43:26.155-07:00LESBIANS *GASP*Well, no one ever has to guess how I feel about anything, since I just put it all out there on the line.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwrX7G1PwcWTchoTdEMPDopr6-vm9_8kzjcumhgw9taPYngA7uCeSfOYEu-HIMeBzGkp7beiGnqGDHYgE5HXnlccjlPl__sZPPwmVPyxboqQtiUy_crQoa7HxJUuTFse6lZzsfXZpmtYN/s1600/kimandelse.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwrX7G1PwcWTchoTdEMPDopr6-vm9_8kzjcumhgw9taPYngA7uCeSfOYEu-HIMeBzGkp7beiGnqGDHYgE5HXnlccjlPl__sZPPwmVPyxboqQtiUy_crQoa7HxJUuTFse6lZzsfXZpmtYN/s320/kimandelse.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The controversial "promposal". </td></tr>
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So, I wanted to publicly address something that happened two years ago that was so ridiculous I can't even believe I'm going to make a post about it, but here it is. I just can't let some things roll on and this happens to be one of them. I've waited until the time was right to discuss, and that time for me is right now.</div>
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Why are Christ's followers so bent on being insanely judgmental about every one around them? I am a professing and practicing Christian for 25 years now, and I just don't get it. I really don't. Why can't you just stay in your own lane and run your own game? Seriously? Everything isn't your business. </div>
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At our school we host a banquet instead of a prom (really semantics). Elise and Kim were the only two girls going to this dinner without dates. (Both were asked by multiple boys who were just not options for a wide variety of reasons.) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1l1raaVY8fbpyAf9u3RMQplbBwkrBuZshSK85yzvuJGK4m-Ymskz_-YrxY48Riw4sh-RatO4e3W4lhFKu2SIPJEEQG3oqSTiV0Zi1voXhsx259MCGj9G9JgGmQVjgJut47yFOYTu1Jcp/s1600/kimandeliseprom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1l1raaVY8fbpyAf9u3RMQplbBwkrBuZshSK85yzvuJGK4m-Ymskz_-YrxY48Riw4sh-RatO4e3W4lhFKu2SIPJEEQG3oqSTiV0Zi1voXhsx259MCGj9G9JgGmQVjgJut47yFOYTu1Jcp/s320/kimandeliseprom.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We prom-ed the fire out of our photo shoot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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They were simply making a joke out of the promposal stuff going around on the Internet by "going together" so they won't be the only "wall flowers." (The idea of Kim or Elise being wallflowers is its own inside joke. As if.) </div>
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The entire junior class and some of the senior class helped Elise pull the joke 'promposal' off on Kim. They filmed it. They played music on a boom box held up in the air as an homage to <i><b>Say Anything</b></i>. They laughed and joked and were highly amused. I was in the room when it happened. It was desperately funny and actually sort of sweet.</div>
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I'm sick and tired of everything in our culture being sexualized. </div>
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I was incredibly close to my girlfriends in high school. In fact, I went to my senior prom with another girl and a boy between us in what could have appeared to be a poly-amorous sister wife thing. (Really, we were just awesome like that.) I wasn't dating or sleeping with either of those people. We were FRIENDS. Perhaps it's a new concept for some of you. (And we had a brilliant time that night!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdpUxjm0iu5LLRKQywGm7Qv5fltCa58km3UuGLMCgTeGUwnh-nvZ8JX5SNyOZMjUf-DAbYPiWQkDqyBks7OE2gko311srGBXQgXIVTQAAwqqX1cp52ZTqnSemyNmWHt2GuzfvYTSEdE3G/s1600/KimandelisepromII.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdpUxjm0iu5LLRKQywGm7Qv5fltCa58km3UuGLMCgTeGUwnh-nvZ8JX5SNyOZMjUf-DAbYPiWQkDqyBks7OE2gko311srGBXQgXIVTQAAwqqX1cp52ZTqnSemyNmWHt2GuzfvYTSEdE3G/s320/KimandelisepromII.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup. We went there.</td></tr>
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So, here's a newsflash, my DAUGHTER of whom I am abundantly proud, went to the banquet with a GIRL who is a FRIEND. For Fun. Because that's what friends do. </div>
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Elise Johnson is not a lesbian. </div>
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Kimberly Hagler is not a lesbian. </div>
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They were not a couple. </div>
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They were not dating. </div>
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Then fast forward six months later and we had cancer--Elise went completely bald due to chemotherapy (which saved her life), and when the little hair follicles started growing back, people assumed SIMPLY from her HAIRDO that she was a lesbian. What the heck? We had people in public places literally glare and gossip because her hair was short. (I thought stories gay people told about being shunned in public were largely exaggerated to make heterosexuals look like jackasses. Wrong. It happened. I heard and saw it myself.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MoLWwFOjAB-jda_R0ZtZtrHgsDh2MIkDyXy4ctqBrEOHb91XvN6iUsEe3CErPRLaL_HjNYdbuJ64vRyRAj_PPDcPSn3RwfrLxOjFpGXm5R3S0vDhZZAq8E0iuvAqJffD6KepNhNijftH/s1600/kimandelisepromIII.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MoLWwFOjAB-jda_R0ZtZtrHgsDh2MIkDyXy4ctqBrEOHb91XvN6iUsEe3CErPRLaL_HjNYdbuJ64vRyRAj_PPDcPSn3RwfrLxOjFpGXm5R3S0vDhZZAq8E0iuvAqJffD6KepNhNijftH/s320/kimandelisepromIII.jpg" width="212" /></a>And it still happened all during her first year in college simply because she had short hair. (THAT WAS FREAKING GROWING BACK FROM CANCER!!!) This was the single weirdest thing ever. Who decided that all women with short hair are gay? What the crap? Even if she had been a lesbian, that despicable, evil, rude, judgmental behavior made me want to jack slap some folks in public. What is wrong with people?<br />
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<b>Here’s another truth that might be hard for super judgy pants people to fully grasp in its simplicity:</b> if my daughter (or son for that matter) ever decided that she is a homosexual, I will love her the same way I do right now—completely, irrationally, unconditionally, overwhelmingly, without a single qualm or hesitation, because there is absolutely <b>nothing </b>that can separate my child from my love. Certainly not something as ridiculous as who she loves or does not love. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFoo7p-VL3doVj_Y-c7qtChES_vPXns2pSCAt-EgwwzA78wS8wIgFGUBg0rEnerBucfzT4QgAnejxhG8wD28d6oScNYcpsT-OlZWtrsERMwcYkG-O3MXREbnzeLCtUzg74F7NrMbo-euo/s1600/56947203_10217523041142205_4920765372719693824_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFoo7p-VL3doVj_Y-c7qtChES_vPXns2pSCAt-EgwwzA78wS8wIgFGUBg0rEnerBucfzT4QgAnejxhG8wD28d6oScNYcpsT-OlZWtrsERMwcYkG-O3MXREbnzeLCtUzg74F7NrMbo-euo/s320/56947203_10217523041142205_4920765372719693824_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took photos of the girls in the junior class<br />
and then of the boys in the junior class. There are<br />
only <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">two boys:Carter and Liam. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">We posed in front of the chapel</span><br />
at American Village. </td></tr>
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Because MY LOVE for my child should NOT be CONDITIONAL or it isn't LOVE at all. It's emotional blackmail. "I'll love you if..."</div>
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Um, no. I will just love you exactly the way you are. The end. </div>
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The argument that it’s sin or isn't sin is completely moot. It makes absolutely no difference if you think it is or it isn’t. If I stopped trafficking with every person in my life who “sinned” (perceived or real) <b>EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU WOULD HAVE TO GO</b>. Because all the people in the entire known universe are in sin. <b>ALL OF THEM!!!!!</b></div>
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So, before you call the school all upset and tattle on a child for something that was a complete joke, or start making a spiritual mountain out of a funny little molehill, or you gossip about how someone looks or appears to be, check yourselves. That casting stones business is painful when it rolls the other way, and I assure you that it will roll back on you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFIgNP9EMPLv58xyefoE0aczKq1z15Bj21s3EKbbyOkaY0Zg9M_09RZG03uimveU7_TaWZLis4CPwRnm0biQLheWwbL3qBWxMTblXrSKflNR8oJn53dPYRBq2BNSxayxDL1ti-RbU2SB-/s1600/57190317_10217523044942300_5654858313913860096_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFIgNP9EMPLv58xyefoE0aczKq1z15Bj21s3EKbbyOkaY0Zg9M_09RZG03uimveU7_TaWZLis4CPwRnm0biQLheWwbL3qBWxMTblXrSKflNR8oJn53dPYRBq2BNSxayxDL1ti-RbU2SB-/s400/57190317_10217523044942300_5654858313913860096_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carter and Liam posed in front of the chapel<br />
in their boutonnieres, and the comment was made that<br />
they look <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">a little bit like they are a couple getting married. </span></td></tr>
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God thinks <i>Irony</i> is hilarious as a manifestation of the reaping and sowing principle. You might get to experience having an actual lesbian daughter or homosexual son, and we’ll all get a front row seat to view your Christ walk in living color. Everyone will get to see what your love <b>actually</b> looks like. 😘 Good luck with that, Judgy Pants. </div>
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Hey, Elise? </div>
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Hey, Kim? </div>
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Party on, Garth. </div>
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Party on, Wayne. </div>
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I paid for the matching corsages. </div>
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And we took a bunch of really funny photos too. </div>
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Because FUN BUS.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj0ULU0j7Lh99r-fznAkco6KKY9ilnJMoC8-Rcix7ghx7cwxzQlPWk-uqpCptotguB5LZ7O7erH5Yg_oZ7pcK_Ftf2F7ss2uQKaYSVJnWeCAoYAqMC16NULGsD_PkQ0fnrfQryYlSHn_r/s1600/57227720_10217523045422312_8649517698339831808_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj0ULU0j7Lh99r-fznAkco6KKY9ilnJMoC8-Rcix7ghx7cwxzQlPWk-uqpCptotguB5LZ7O7erH5Yg_oZ7pcK_Ftf2F7ss2uQKaYSVJnWeCAoYAqMC16NULGsD_PkQ0fnrfQryYlSHn_r/s400/57227720_10217523045422312_8649517698339831808_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carter said, "Which one of us is the girl?"<br />
Liam responded, "Dude, you are in the pink suit; you <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">are SOOOO the girl in this relationship." And</span><br />
the photographs continued right on. Because it was <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">funny. And is still funny. And will be funny</span><br />
tomorrow. And if one of them is gay it's still funny, <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">because it was unintentional and sometimes humor is like that.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZThM_E3B8ot2UongoAWdxDGFJc30Z0_W7WRoVUdNZDE3cWi-0xUnTIwMQWbdiu5r5z3TzaOnDKTNbICDsCSfrUv2M2iYoItN4helxAvMTtT0Nf2_psf2NaK_yQmrsu2yRvjLJBRGrH0Z/s1600/56673144_10217523041862223_3542099970423259136_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZThM_E3B8ot2UongoAWdxDGFJc30Z0_W7WRoVUdNZDE3cWi-0xUnTIwMQWbdiu5r5z3TzaOnDKTNbICDsCSfrUv2M2iYoItN4helxAvMTtT0Nf2_psf2NaK_yQmrsu2yRvjLJBRGrH0Z/s640/56673144_10217523041862223_3542099970423259136_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In fact, the photos got much better. after they <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">decided it was their wedding day. Then there was an entire conversation about Carter's pants and if they were really more Jonas Brothers tight vs fashion-forward modern menswear. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAXnyrCaHv1WHzA2N92lLxshSiqlyREJ_lkA7VynK8sFKOz4tLTcPn24M6gOuKNkNQ6_-ZgdcDReYO7yIwFVpspJON2WkO5rgcGKtLQSVPX98SH1BVQEIL_xyPKZeEnsTne4kdkR66WxI/s1600/Promfunny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="960" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAXnyrCaHv1WHzA2N92lLxshSiqlyREJ_lkA7VynK8sFKOz4tLTcPn24M6gOuKNkNQ6_-ZgdcDReYO7yIwFVpspJON2WkO5rgcGKtLQSVPX98SH1BVQEIL_xyPKZeEnsTne4kdkR66WxI/s640/Promfunny.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably not gay, although the verdict is still out. We will keep you posted.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-50554207075345981182019-05-22T18:42:00.000-07:002019-05-22T19:13:56.254-07:002019 Play Notes<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkAiUSTp6mq5CLyvS9lhhE1f0_TNaj1U6vzhB0-fGpKkY9ez72ybM2Nr5mlPw72NwaryiWo7uTH0gl7_GmhTkWj00TlN7tjYAL42Bq-9iviz_topQ9n6xSbJ_YffYJFV4kQqeSzHFdXw3O/s1600/59276181_10157056805394000_1928777754304577536_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkAiUSTp6mq5CLyvS9lhhE1f0_TNaj1U6vzhB0-fGpKkY9ez72ybM2Nr5mlPw72NwaryiWo7uTH0gl7_GmhTkWj00TlN7tjYAL42Bq-9iviz_topQ9n6xSbJ_YffYJFV4kQqeSzHFdXw3O/s320/59276181_10157056805394000_1928777754304577536_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><b>2019 Play Shout Outs:</b><br />
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<b>It actually takes an entire village for real for real.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmr9hwzYWL3nCGZFaT6RoCqjNUw66a6DWOZHPovZcUXKcuFFy-G9lFLn8nnkByiUf_Pb5_giaA5mLbvg7qnfHXILZbCPwgkfTkDC0Gx11eEFg9IPXMT5rcaFIRgZ7F2PDKQWr5ra5ZJLrd/s1600/59301209_10157056805939000_5144964198874218496_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmr9hwzYWL3nCGZFaT6RoCqjNUw66a6DWOZHPovZcUXKcuFFy-G9lFLn8nnkByiUf_Pb5_giaA5mLbvg7qnfHXILZbCPwgkfTkDC0Gx11eEFg9IPXMT5rcaFIRgZ7F2PDKQWr5ra5ZJLrd/s320/59301209_10157056805939000_5144964198874218496_n.jpg" width="213" /></a>1.) Tatumn, Jenna, and Brandon all sustained head injuries during the play. And Kasper had to have stitches on move out day--he's our first cut injury. (We've had nails in palms and some enormous splinters, but no stitches.) We usually don't have any incidents on set, but this year we had four weird ones--Tatumn got almost knocked over when some other folks were moving a light box. She carried on. Jenna was brained by an awkward wedding threshold carry when she jumped and he shifted and the scaffolding didn't move. She also carried on. And Brandon was in a car wreck on the way home from the first performance and totaled his car. (The phone pole didn't move either.) He carried on. But the medal goes to Kasper. He came to work day at 8:30, was cut at 8:55, went to the emergency room, got four stitches, <b>then came back and finished the work day.</b> He actually lifted and carried with stitches in his thumb and finger. He officially set the new standard.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipfWQeWm4zySqA9ExzSr3ZhQcAbAgxYU7D6zBPCcuARGjclD9BQP9OOH2DyWhcbilOEhcJW1MALqkq-RXNYURC3Mm_SIaz22n7xb3tEy_SzPbDheu_71ka3TdSTUuUtAxXF5y2LvoUOz0h/s1600/59546714_10157054267964000_4746475067272069120_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipfWQeWm4zySqA9ExzSr3ZhQcAbAgxYU7D6zBPCcuARGjclD9BQP9OOH2DyWhcbilOEhcJW1MALqkq-RXNYURC3Mm_SIaz22n7xb3tEy_SzPbDheu_71ka3TdSTUuUtAxXF5y2LvoUOz0h/s320/59546714_10157054267964000_4746475067272069120_n.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
2.) We had more fun than I ever imagined doing a country/western production. <i>Seven Brides for Seven Brothers</i> is <b>NOT </b>one of my favorite musicals. (In fact, it doesn't make the top twenty.) But I agonized over the script for this particular senior class. I always try to choose a show that specifically highlights the strengths of the students and represents them well. I cast seniors first, then juniors, then I fill in with appropriate students as needed. It rarely works out as brilliantly as it did this year. I kept congratulating myself over the two weeks. This group of goofy, silly, fun-loving, rambunctious kids were perfect for the play and it was perfect for them. The downside??? I had to listen to more country music in a month than I ever wanted to in my whole life. The upside??? I discovered Big and Rich singing <i>"Rock the Boat"</i> and <i>"Rednecker" </i>by Hardy. #winning<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSz5eRaxwroBB3LDuUTH41WpfHPZyUiTaNdp7ZOv2o067YDwRJR1HzoFHTGUrL2Ck8Us0Onw2-ACm9a0DjBtb9QoOHkjdynvIL3RypZGtTvQlKQsb6ta7ZJANUyjh3FHFYWjPa_ilh9VCx/s1600/59604443_10157056799739000_6124796610191818752_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSz5eRaxwroBB3LDuUTH41WpfHPZyUiTaNdp7ZOv2o067YDwRJR1HzoFHTGUrL2Ck8Us0Onw2-ACm9a0DjBtb9QoOHkjdynvIL3RypZGtTvQlKQsb6ta7ZJANUyjh3FHFYWjPa_ilh9VCx/s320/59604443_10157056799739000_6124796610191818752_n.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
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3.) Mia Batchelor and Hannah Littleton will one day rule the world quietly without anyone knowing it's happening. And it will be better than it is now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_XspSjT4kWK9NH8RhRIZ_-0_zinsxQF4ax_pn4zuKqs3vdvX7Bj1f63tW7hA6xzqCoJgGtQk3wnfoK6MigeplBmIoITNMYCQpowWXucYG8iuDxEVRmbIYtUjJozXSPAlg1-zS6zxk3HA/s1600/59375398_10157044611679000_5498930260671987712_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_XspSjT4kWK9NH8RhRIZ_-0_zinsxQF4ax_pn4zuKqs3vdvX7Bj1f63tW7hA6xzqCoJgGtQk3wnfoK6MigeplBmIoITNMYCQpowWXucYG8iuDxEVRmbIYtUjJozXSPAlg1-zS6zxk3HA/s320/59375398_10157044611679000_5498930260671987712_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AvEQ-cw5Cqqwg9ZMZ5ln1hTsxgWPC8_uKZtulEsLZoqchQckM7wBxRphfSXoy9k0ErTEhh_r-GZCLE3YAMbDnWBBBdpGWQhfsCU47RJeNol29foMOhD6FK_vXQaHqxBwRzcy92smpLGO/s1600/60094506_10157073494419000_4933781984074792960_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AvEQ-cw5Cqqwg9ZMZ5ln1hTsxgWPC8_uKZtulEsLZoqchQckM7wBxRphfSXoy9k0ErTEhh_r-GZCLE3YAMbDnWBBBdpGWQhfsCU47RJeNol29foMOhD6FK_vXQaHqxBwRzcy92smpLGO/s320/60094506_10157073494419000_4933781984074792960_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
4.) Becky and Carl Garrison haven't been just friends for a LONG time--they are completely family. So, Mr. Carl brought the the trailers and hay, and Becky loaned us an entire bleacher worth of gear (literally). She also went to Sam's an hour each way. That alone would have been enough. But then they paid to see the show two nights in a row, brought friends and family, and did every single thing that the kids did to make it roll. I can't thank them enough for all they do to support our family.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9yHcrDI2NbTld9m3sFf5ZmwL2pbs_Vu7hfZuCpvjBcGrjbCCvhCYCs3dpYXOvmq0ATB-zX0Ve4AI-K2fgqt5J5mpVguqtOwyI4j6aNfwkJLViVBpnpaHts4x5q9j0kcxU_g-JLu9npYk/s1600/60133812_10157073576799000_8797511340668223488_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9yHcrDI2NbTld9m3sFf5ZmwL2pbs_Vu7hfZuCpvjBcGrjbCCvhCYCs3dpYXOvmq0ATB-zX0Ve4AI-K2fgqt5J5mpVguqtOwyI4j6aNfwkJLViVBpnpaHts4x5q9j0kcxU_g-JLu9npYk/s320/60133812_10157073576799000_8797511340668223488_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
5.) Linda Posey came to the play clean up day. She's a grandmother. She doesn't have any kids or grandkids in the play. SHE CAME TO THE CLEAN UP DAY. I'll just let that sink in for a second. And she outworked every kid in the room except like two. It was impressive to say the least.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CrAmigOn-xaJbU3nz0JaQeiHXCXpfSb1yUnyjdxq4UMQyFr1-Ib8FPMcupZElbSSEbJhonUS9v3aeN2du2yYXKKzBogV5ErQpkuMVosbVjSmAbpw_LSCbjRTfTRM9m4ib12inmmNzkDE/s1600/60512081_10157075962634000_2510812296121417728_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CrAmigOn-xaJbU3nz0JaQeiHXCXpfSb1yUnyjdxq4UMQyFr1-Ib8FPMcupZElbSSEbJhonUS9v3aeN2du2yYXKKzBogV5ErQpkuMVosbVjSmAbpw_LSCbjRTfTRM9m4ib12inmmNzkDE/s320/60512081_10157075962634000_2510812296121417728_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
6.) Thank you to every single person who cooked, donated food, sent snacks and drinks, helped move in, helped move out, loaned us stuff, gave us money for the play, gave us hats, and all the other things you didn't see them do.<br />
<br />The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-83174700841324567792019-05-17T18:17:00.000-07:002019-05-17T18:17:39.908-07:00&*($# Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-M1XlTnlHNIe2XgV71Bn6VTpA9l-t9RG2EtbbFWu2unyGnevE83g-h_9Twi42QfHiiaTGR7gZpcC6A9ofE7BhmmbbN8E4YvlmqnvFhG9BZO-JMNTO1e9HjLZsRXbpI7xfu5R3r7qgbmW4/s1600/-29c5ccb6bab74a5d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="620" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-M1XlTnlHNIe2XgV71Bn6VTpA9l-t9RG2EtbbFWu2unyGnevE83g-h_9Twi42QfHiiaTGR7gZpcC6A9ofE7BhmmbbN8E4YvlmqnvFhG9BZO-JMNTO1e9HjLZsRXbpI7xfu5R3r7qgbmW4/s320/-29c5ccb6bab74a5d.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Cursing is always about intent. I can turn any word, even made up ones, into curse words. It’s always better not to salt and pepper your language with base words, because it’s just not terribly attractive, but don’t get confused—if you use the words “blast it!” In place of a cuss word, you just cussed the same way as if you’d used the four-dollar-word. You don’t get to pick and choose which words are wrong or right (outside of blaspheming the Holy Spirit which can’t be justified). If you use any word with intent, you did it.<br />
<br />
For example: If I call you a "fargin bastage" do you think that was an invitation to Sunday lunch or a curse? Before you get excited neither word "fargin" or "bastage" exists. They are made up--but if you yell them at someone, you have literally and figuratively cursed them.<br />
<br />
You have to be so careful not to judge someone else's behavior as being "Christian" or "Non-Christian" because every single person breathing air (saved or not) has an opinion about everything.<br />
<br />
You watch R movies.<br />
You watch any movies at all.<br />
You eat meat on Friday.<br />
Your skirt is too short.<br />
You play video games.<br />
You watch the TV.<br />
You have a TV.<br />
You listen to any secular music.<br />
You have ever had a glass of wine.<br />
You have ever danced even in a square or with your Mamaw.<br />
You eat bacon.<br />
You don't eat bacon.<br />
You are a female who wears pants.<br />
Or make up.<br />
Or have a job outside of the house.<br />
<br />
It's really sort of gigantic grey areas without clear lines or boundaries. It's a personal call.<br />
<br />
Signs you actually have a real spiritual problem:<br />
<ul>
<li>You always 'go to church' but refused to forgive someone who has wronged you.</li>
<li>You habitually lie.</li>
<li>You stir up strife among the brethren. </li>
<li>You gossip about things that do not involve you. </li>
<li>You purposefully devise wicked or evil things.</li>
<li>You are proud and unwilling to accept correction. </li>
<li>You sing in the choir and discuss how badly/poorly/sinfully everyone was dressed in the congregation over lunch.</li>
<li>You make up reasons to be angry with fellow Christians. These reasons are usually based on some kind of feeling or opinion rather than facts. </li>
<li>You constantly worry about things you have no power to change. </li>
</ul>
So instead of running around being the Spiritual Police and monitoring what our neighbor is up to or in to, how about we deal each other a measure of grace instead of playing a game of “never have I ever” 😬 cause I have seen/heard things texted, said, photographed, and written by the Precious Angels I teach (high school students) that indicate we should all use caution before hurling a stone. If you thrown them at me I will aim back. I'm not that good of a Christian.<br />
<br />
<br />The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-1137947470372580782019-05-13T17:05:00.000-07:002019-05-13T17:05:22.309-07:00Spiritual Fruit--Absolutely Unapologetic Bragging<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSh45TJE6B0LXpRuBiupyvgQWCqHw_3VPMOmJ9gMk4gtA642qcMdvksmPB8toRHY5rpYYohyudUdhmwn8zNmR6Us26JrjlABPqkgQt-zMRJw8-BPqQtY7_dQSCVAlAA91Z78yOQx23eg26/s1600/Elisecollege2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSh45TJE6B0LXpRuBiupyvgQWCqHw_3VPMOmJ9gMk4gtA642qcMdvksmPB8toRHY5rpYYohyudUdhmwn8zNmR6Us26JrjlABPqkgQt-zMRJw8-BPqQtY7_dQSCVAlAA91Z78yOQx23eg26/s320/Elisecollege2.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<b>I going to tell you a little story about Spiritual Fruit and The Wonder Twins. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Elise:</b><br />
She received the Presidential Scholarship for academic achievement to University of Mobile, and she successfully completed her freshman year at college. She was on the President's List both semesters (all A's). She worked in the Student Success Center at a part time job. (She got this job while doing a mock interview for a class grade--the mock interviewer hired her for an actual paying job.)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73em5104Tro8S4bafwDg9LNY2bJn_8CLJSlLrLLqRH69BT9FjKUBuCqrfopkS87KwpSz1oGa8jGWL1V6u9w5CznvxPm1-aUaNCnOMWH1IaF2hpnefB-yY10rXwZNXlOYWiUOmpgH36dGv/s1600/Elisecollege.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="610" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73em5104Tro8S4bafwDg9LNY2bJn_8CLJSlLrLLqRH69BT9FjKUBuCqrfopkS87KwpSz1oGa8jGWL1V6u9w5CznvxPm1-aUaNCnOMWH1IaF2hpnefB-yY10rXwZNXlOYWiUOmpgH36dGv/s320/Elisecollege.jpg" width="203" /></a>Elise has gotten hard core involved with her home church in Mobile and attends The View, the college worship services, faithfully. She also serves most weekends in the 3-to-5-year-old classes. The rule at her church is you attend a service and then work a service, ensuring you are being spiritually fed while serving.<br />
<br />
She was filmed for a video played before service about her grace walk with the Lord. The church thought enough of her spiritual walk that they risked putting her story on the main screen. She was also interviewed for UM's "Why UM" and advertised on Instagram for the school.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatdFf-5o6YjMDln1OTH7RYTrFdo3fmIR5Pdc0cUWkOh5zqy-ACCuz7kPKJaOqM8-xvp2n5et4zbhniKXiHx4tr9FBKF-r6b7YQ9SIa2G-XASonEORG1oDHp3uUKSsHyoJl-brr_lOx3b3/s1600/image2+%25281%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatdFf-5o6YjMDln1OTH7RYTrFdo3fmIR5Pdc0cUWkOh5zqy-ACCuz7kPKJaOqM8-xvp2n5et4zbhniKXiHx4tr9FBKF-r6b7YQ9SIa2G-XASonEORG1oDHp3uUKSsHyoJl-brr_lOx3b3/s320/image2+%25281%2529.jpeg" width="241" /></a>Elise can't donate blood anymore (Hodgkin's Lymphoma), so she campaigned for the blood drive at her school and almost doubled the donations for the event she worked. She harassed her friends, stayed in the blood mobile and held hands with people who were afraid, and acted like a cheerleader for the people lined up outside (who mostly showed up because she chased them around campus).<br />
<br />
She teaches a girl's Bible study on Tuesday nights with about 10-15 regular attenders. She also attends her roommate's small group class on Monday nights. So, E is in church or Bible study a minimum of four times each week.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vngPsQOsv-WSlAgdA096ycT6Iee7kvWc-y0pbikrRpXLIlQQwrHuwRCcFmAtBv6QSihumeP3qp7nXDlV3ioaUX4irwZhIRv_SNsaxIswZEzAE0nJ8xTukXUY5Zyd0Scom2NDW03qnYUM/s1600/image3+%25281%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="370" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vngPsQOsv-WSlAgdA096ycT6Iee7kvWc-y0pbikrRpXLIlQQwrHuwRCcFmAtBv6QSihumeP3qp7nXDlV3ioaUX4irwZhIRv_SNsaxIswZEzAE0nJ8xTukXUY5Zyd0Scom2NDW03qnYUM/s320/image3+%25281%2529.jpeg" width="185" /></a>Elise applied for a highly coveted job this summer with Winshape camps in the traveling co-ed program. She was hired as an employee and will be teaching 3-5 year olds at a VBS on steroids sort of deal for ten weeks this summer. Her training packet has to be memorized before rolling to the ten day training in Georgia, and then she will be responsible for all the kids in her family for the week. She will visit eight states in ten weeks. It's a prestigious appointment with a missions emphasis all summer.<br />
<br />
She applied for and won two Student Life jobs next year--RAM Rush Family (this the the welcoming program for incoming freshman who are new to U of Mobile--they put the freshmen into families with a Ram Mom and a Ram Dad who help them navigate the newness of college life and integrate into campus activities.) She will be the most energetic RAM Mom in the history of that program. I can't imagine a better advocate for the University of Mobile.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX4MrZJw2lYCjbJt6rxsyN1_KPyp0RN6Zs-oFoFYg8dPSoAXNPdMHqrNRRLhXRstPVrd7EQdYwyzy-O89zf58Uj9kPL7DKD3GHa5ijhehyWOExfXAiELkWotBgoVPZb6k1JwJbrU4DDaZ/s1600/Elainacollege.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX4MrZJw2lYCjbJt6rxsyN1_KPyp0RN6Zs-oFoFYg8dPSoAXNPdMHqrNRRLhXRstPVrd7EQdYwyzy-O89zf58Uj9kPL7DKD3GHa5ijhehyWOExfXAiELkWotBgoVPZb6k1JwJbrU4DDaZ/s320/Elainacollege.jpg" width="207" /></a>She also applied for and was accepted to the CAM staff--this is the Fun Bus arm of Mobile's campus. They set up for all major student life actives like the craw fish boil, concerts, welcome weekends, events, etc.<br />
<br />
Elise has developed the kinds of friendships at collage that literally last a lifetime. I thank God daily for her people. She did all of that still in her first year of recovery from cancer.<br />
<br />
<b>Elaina: </b><br />
She received huge scholarships, academic and merit, to Judson College where she has successfully completed her freshman year. Dean's list both semesters (A's and B's).<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv3G8GjbIFzuSRxvLj2xTH0XbEZuDWjD9LhhO_ZSaOSI6BOwsOJ3JtdTmArN1twut3CB6sHk02N195GUwmluZMwPX42aHWrCN_4XJGE3NtyS_tjTGRrU5kMnn_ryE2xQTwQdnGuIqd01h/s1600/Elainacollege+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv3G8GjbIFzuSRxvLj2xTH0XbEZuDWjD9LhhO_ZSaOSI6BOwsOJ3JtdTmArN1twut3CB6sHk02N195GUwmluZMwPX42aHWrCN_4XJGE3NtyS_tjTGRrU5kMnn_ryE2xQTwQdnGuIqd01h/s320/Elainacollege+3.jpg" width="320" /></a>Elaina was awarded a basketball scholarship from open tryouts, but once she began that endeavor, she decided that the sport, the events, the workload, and the travel were all too much for her freshman year, so she negotiated leaving the team and transferred to working with the volleyball team as stats keeper via the A-Board--she did all of that by herself without any adult intervention.<br />
<br />
She worked a student life job in the English department where she has received nothing but the highest of praise from the deans and professors she works for. In fact, they are all arguing who she is going to work for next year when they transfer into various departments. They all want her. And another department secretly recruited her behind the scenes.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFq4ZrPMCBv3g_owWJm1pub3MaN3ki86LqNnRRv2IH-pxXcu1fp97YdNBOxWg-33jnjsYBnrMqzuII0D5fHqzkWfCrAygZh_UD6JtC85OsZXsLRI-hyrJ2jGqHN-RW9D3PsLsjfTgONRXr/s1600/Elainacollege2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFq4ZrPMCBv3g_owWJm1pub3MaN3ki86LqNnRRv2IH-pxXcu1fp97YdNBOxWg-33jnjsYBnrMqzuII0D5fHqzkWfCrAygZh_UD6JtC85OsZXsLRI-hyrJ2jGqHN-RW9D3PsLsjfTgONRXr/s320/Elainacollege2.jpg" width="240" /></a>She applied for and was accepted at as LAMP (Leadership And Mentoring Program) leader next year. This is the group that welcomes and does orientation for incoming freshman. She will supervise and guide a group of incoming freshman next year.<br />
<br />
She participated in Traditions (it's a Judson thing) and joined the Lion Family. She did sneaky, Fun Bus activities, step sing, president's events, presentations, introduced speakers at chapel, attended several formal events and dinners, and developed relationships with many of her professors. She made the short list for the freshman class J-Day court (but didn't make the court). She worked, took a full load both semesters, maintained her GPA, and participated in everything Judson had to offer.<br />
<br />
Elaina donated every time the blood mobile was on her campus and encouraged her friends to get in line with her to great results. She is terrified of needles and shots to the point of panic attacks. She worked the campus serve days in Marion and volunteered at many campus events.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3N9OXGut_Pm4ydiTfLeeG8tCuCD0tgeQXBnpTXw_UGep3qUvWSjr7f9n6-okjwS_BSQc33wLuls5IgzlimpOo7P0jFOiQrjU8gfgUFAMxIoJIne4xQQ1-XDDCbVXWn8TTfPtu1feupvnp/s1600/twinsschool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3N9OXGut_Pm4ydiTfLeeG8tCuCD0tgeQXBnpTXw_UGep3qUvWSjr7f9n6-okjwS_BSQc33wLuls5IgzlimpOo7P0jFOiQrjU8gfgUFAMxIoJIne4xQQ1-XDDCbVXWn8TTfPtu1feupvnp/s320/twinsschool.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
She was invited to participate in short term next spring on a trip to Italy where she is taking a religion class and an art/music appreciation class. She's coming home this summer to work and hang out with me and Lillian. We plan on visiting Elise while she's on the road at camp. Elaina has developed heart friends that she has grown with spiritually, emotionally, and academically.<br />
<ul>
<li>So, both of my daughters chose Christian colleges on their own without serious prompting from me. </li>
<li>Both girls joined their college versions of the welcome staff. </li>
<li>Both girls are serving on the Fun Bus committees for their campuses.</li>
<li>Both girls have part time work study jobs on campus where they were acclaimed for their work ethic, professionalism, and character. </li>
<li>Both girls participated in every single Fun Bus activity that their campuses offered. </li>
<li>Both girls have been active in their home churches. </li>
<li>Both girls adore and get along with their roommates and friend groups. </li>
</ul>
<div>
For those who spitefully use me or feel compelled to criticize my spiritual walk and influence on the students around me--whip yours out and I'll compare it with mine. Spiritual fruit, that is. ;-) Because when you begin measuring rights and wrongs against your fellow man sometimes you come up higher on the scale and sometimes you wind up short. This year, we happen to be killing it, so back up a few feet and contemplate before coming for my spiritual walk. I guarantee Johnsonville is winning in our current season.<br />
<br /></div>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-92068026082797576612019-04-16T15:06:00.000-07:002019-04-16T16:05:16.246-07:00The Vows<div>
What the wedding vows should say. You should also repeat them at your baby dedication to your kids. </div>
<ul>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLd10OiEglA86dSNBik03OONS_J4u1LIAmolHTTWy1mk0bI0Di_Zw2wr_1lsxnPjeaj54JJLztKoHUkLcgPLt9Z1D68b3-b8z_sHPS2z2bEPSHIHb-7-Ctb2Lmi1N4-VrPVGLUFYRy5qwv/s1600/lily+and+mommy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1346" data-original-width="972" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLd10OiEglA86dSNBik03OONS_J4u1LIAmolHTTWy1mk0bI0Di_Zw2wr_1lsxnPjeaj54JJLztKoHUkLcgPLt9Z1D68b3-b8z_sHPS2z2bEPSHIHb-7-Ctb2Lmi1N4-VrPVGLUFYRy5qwv/s320/lily+and+mommy.jpg" width="231" /></a>
<li>Your enemy is my enemy. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I will stand in front of any danger real or perceived that comes at us from the front. You guard my six. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I can say what I’d like about you, but I will physically assault anyone who speaks against you. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>If you turn into a zombie in the apocalypse I will stab you in the eye and put you down, because that shell you walk around in has nothing to do with who you are. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>That being said about your outer shell—I will love you pot bellied, bald, stretch marked, scarred, and changed from your present form. I will love you when you are dirty, bloated, vomiting, crusty, leaky, and stinky. I expect you to return the favor. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I will also love you when you are angry, difficult, cranky, not a morning person, on your cycle, irrational, and when you aren’t loving me back very well. Basically, I will love you when you are unlovable. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>It’s a marathon not a sprint. I will carry the water sometimes if you promise to do the same for me when I’m tired. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_3BGTURE2vTnQdJTjM-Ed8LPtMbQKVHLbfiwwsRds6e6QtxItHJP7EhK1HYKav2JL98XAJFMwBzwiKyE4nqBBybWCxBRinbCecZ3Hw0WBk68M5FIjcr2Lb9SCs0w6pO5XVAL27iC47FJ/s1600/cruising.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_3BGTURE2vTnQdJTjM-Ed8LPtMbQKVHLbfiwwsRds6e6QtxItHJP7EhK1HYKav2JL98XAJFMwBzwiKyE4nqBBybWCxBRinbCecZ3Hw0WBk68M5FIjcr2Lb9SCs0w6pO5XVAL27iC47FJ/s320/cruising.jpg" width="320" /></a>
<li>Money comes and goes. There will never ever be enough of it for all of your wants. Don’t waste time arguing about it. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Get over yourself more often than not. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Sometimes it really is the other person's fault. Forgive them when they apologize. Keep forgiving them when they don't deserve it. Do it over and over until it sticks. </li>
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<li>Sometimes it really is your fault. Apologize quickly. Really mean it.<span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span></li>
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<li>Endurance is more important than speed or skill. Don’t forget it when you’re in the lull. </li>
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<li>And finally, be flexible--because love covers a multitude of sins, but flexibility means you bend without breaking, and we are going to need that skill with kids and each other. </li>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-49055102226839671082019-04-15T11:33:00.001-07:002019-04-15T16:43:47.407-07:00Teaching and Influencing<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><b><i>Random Thoughts about Teaching and Influencing:</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQUpoqWGvvX6Dc7OELqndUINIrN-AR_KDVH_BVD2mikAW0lAU4cJaS5BtIYBf-sFwWhG391ueiT7FpLb2pL9_ngsfjsB5YINY-EFiZGNDvzM8WPayiwOcoh3iPuXu0DqwEEQCI36BvVNJ5/s1600/DSC_7064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQUpoqWGvvX6Dc7OELqndUINIrN-AR_KDVH_BVD2mikAW0lAU4cJaS5BtIYBf-sFwWhG391ueiT7FpLb2pL9_ngsfjsB5YINY-EFiZGNDvzM8WPayiwOcoh3iPuXu0DqwEEQCI36BvVNJ5/s400/DSC_7064.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">My job as an English teacher isn't to shelter your child. It's to expose them to great literature and illustrate truths about the human experience through that literature while maintaining exacting standards in language, grammar, punctuation, and form. It is not my job to insulate your children. In fact, I can argue that it’s the exact opposite. I am to challenge them and act like iron sharpening iron which frequently requires friction and discomfort. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFIU-dr-bb0HGbgjbKFMvKdO78gCnOiYbwZzb_kQPJjSG20EZZZAxth4KAAQWsEq2P4X4wI6AOVTp1ywlQSwKcnZ2A5Ao7LMN31N-y9R_Fiw1MVTxbVQBignx_xqLykcsqJdvznRKu-51/s1600/46407350_10216449900594362_818935102389092352_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFIU-dr-bb0HGbgjbKFMvKdO78gCnOiYbwZzb_kQPJjSG20EZZZAxth4KAAQWsEq2P4X4wI6AOVTp1ywlQSwKcnZ2A5Ao7LMN31N-y9R_Fiw1MVTxbVQBignx_xqLykcsqJdvznRKu-51/s320/46407350_10216449900594362_818935102389092352_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I'm raising warriors at my house-- Children who have discernment in a fallen and evil world. It's dangerous to send your sheep among wolves without armor and training. Why would you do that very thing to your child? By protecting them from the world and every single questionable thing in it, they aren't equipped to fight when the </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">day comes. And that day will come. Sooner rather than later. </span></span></div>
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When someone looks at me in the face and says 'I don't really like to read,' it's the same as telling me he is incredibly ignorant and is quasi proud of that fact. I really appreciate the heads up, because your behavior will eventually bear that out anyway. It's nice to have some advance warning.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh468U3oB9DFzsaiag7AIaLz8XGkIfjHPUlRzY1S2wTgVdAiSvuS4vgnehM4Xt1s_ujWx6Vew9n0iYv4lGTqqv_qnZG51OV_jzZZ-YuayrOvEraIUhKXijLzFOuEEadk2hkqdgzdKtP6u5z/s1600/41072588_10215951959746152_7392155104628965376_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh468U3oB9DFzsaiag7AIaLz8XGkIfjHPUlRzY1S2wTgVdAiSvuS4vgnehM4Xt1s_ujWx6Vew9n0iYv4lGTqqv_qnZG51OV_jzZZ-YuayrOvEraIUhKXijLzFOuEEadk2hkqdgzdKtP6u5z/s320/41072588_10215951959746152_7392155104628965376_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I speak in front of a captive audience approximately 40-50 hours a week. I’m bound to put my foot in it now and again. I ought to keep lists of things your kids say and do to retaliate when I am called on the carpet, but then I’d be just like you. I’ll take a hard pass on that, thanks. I think I’ll just keep on influencing and let you do the judging. These things always work themselves out without lifting a finger.<br />
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I know I'm supposed to respond like Christ, but sometimes I can't help from going Beowulf on 'em. You know, tearing the arm off of my enemy and beating him to death with it? Like that. (Reading ensures you get the joke instead of being the joke.) So don't get confused--I am not Christ. I am a follower of Christ doing the very best that I can on a daily. I'll forgive you for the same. </div>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-15608808486036792492018-12-03T11:55:00.000-08:002018-12-03T11:55:19.355-08:00Thanksgiving Kid Blog Excerpts: Thankfulness is a Relative Term<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAghKkBtGZDBw70m1D44ab5L2QJ-ca84J3YrYN2bRgzs_MQNwBt5qfsX-ypOCn2fTAsdOb5i3bYCt2pQ7e1nfdT7CrmjEGFCNX0r9k9rjbl6rCugKnTXQZ-FDVGS7QH5WJqdjdFnc-M0r-/s1600/40178245_10215886411747493_6488243228179955712_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAghKkBtGZDBw70m1D44ab5L2QJ-ca84J3YrYN2bRgzs_MQNwBt5qfsX-ypOCn2fTAsdOb5i3bYCt2pQ7e1nfdT7CrmjEGFCNX0r9k9rjbl6rCugKnTXQZ-FDVGS7QH5WJqdjdFnc-M0r-/s320/40178245_10215886411747493_6488243228179955712_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>Thanksgiving anecdotes--the excerpts: I teach high school English grades 7-12. We use this medium called Kidblog to post blogs about our school year. It's a really good forum to explore media and different kinds of writing. The assignment was to share a Thanksgiving Day anecdote about what your family does to celebrate the holiday, specifically a memory or what you did over the holiday. These blog post excerpts illustrate why I love my job.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #fffdfc; color: #505050; font-family: Arvo, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Friday morning i woke up at 4:30. It's Black Friday! Me and my mom, and Mrs. M are all going to go shopping. I can't wait! I get ready and we leave at 5 am. The first place we went was the Clanton Walmart. Don't ask; I'm not sure why. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #505050; font-family: "Maven Pro", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">It was Thanksgiving day and everyone had gone over to my aunt's house to eat. That part went like usual. We all sat down, ate, family argued, someone got angry and left, we cleaned up, then sat down and went through the Black Friday ads like always. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #ecf6f9; color: #505050; font-family: "PT Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">There was a lot of food. A lot of turkey. I got sick off of turkey. I don't really like turkey anymore. The food was delicious though.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">So my thanksgiving consisted of me laughing at my mom try and fight some apartment workers and about get put in jail, so yeah my thanksgiving was great. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #505050; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Towards the end of us shopping people started running out of the mall. Once we rolled the window down we heard people saying there was a shooter. Well, once those words came out of that girls mouth ole Mom forgot how to drive. So we just sat there in the parking deck until we finally drove off. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #efefef; color: #505050; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">It was extremely boring for me, but everyone else had an excellent time. My mom and dad got to know this other family more, and everyone had someone to hang out with, but I got to hang out with nobody.</span><br />
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It all started as a casual morning. I woke up, changed, ate some cereal, and wiped some poop off of my dog's butt (sometimes he has issues with that). I watched tv, and waited. Then I smelled the aroma of the pie my mom was bringing to the Thanksgiving at my Aunt's house, and I burst through the kitchen door,"PIE, I SHALL WAIT FOR YOU, MY LOVE.'' </div>
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I finally got to my aunt's house, and the wonderful smell of Thanksgiving filled my nostrils. Children were laughing, food was being readied, and we were about to say the prayer. I went in the line after all the elders went, and I piled my plate with turkey, macaroni, green beans, ham, and cranberry sauce. </div>
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I finally got to my love, my one and only, PIE. I ate apple, and pumpkin, and pecan pie. I ate it so happily, but then I finished. Even though pie has a lot of calories in it, I do not regret the forty pounds I gained.</div>
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After we ate, we all crashed. I woke up before everyone else, and just played on my iPad for hours. Then all the children started to play, and they woke up all the adults. The adults immediately turned football on, and then I took another nap because I hate football. </div>
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Over all, my Thanksgiving was rather boring, but I enjoyed the pie and the thankfulness. However, I did not enjoy the football and the children turning on Paw Patrol and taking away my Hallmark time.</div>
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I gained about ten pounds over the week we were out. I had two plates full of normal food and desserts. I was so full after I thought I was gone to explode. I will never eat that much ever again. Overall my Thanksgiving was awesome. I cant wait for Christmas to come around so I can eat more. I feel like this Christmas is gone to be good. I also can't wait till next Thanksgiving already.</div>
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<span style="background-color: #efefef; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", sans-serif;">We also left one day before the wildfires, and the resort we stayed at burnt down. Basically we could've died but luckily we didn't </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #ecf6f9; font-family: "Open Sans Condensed", sans-serif;">The next day, my mom, sister, and I went Black Friday shopping in Alabaster. We had a great time going from store to store and luckily it wasn't as busy as I expected it to be. One thing that was funny was watching these girls fight over a pair of one dollar fuzzy socks, but if they walked around the corner they would have seen more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Roboto, sans-serif;">My dads brother has a wife and she is literally psycho. My other aunt accidentally popped a balloon, so the Crazy Aunt decides to run out of the house screaming because she thinks someone shot a gun in the house. Yes. She’s crazy. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #ecf6f9; font-family: Merriweather, sans-serif;">The funniest thing happened is my uncle made a sweet potato and orange dish thing. It was not good at all, he was saying how good it was going to be and how he'd made it so many years.....but it wasn't. I could tell everyone felt the same way I did, we didn't say anything to him because that just would've been mean.</span></div>
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-23885164300735210832018-11-26T10:14:00.000-08:002018-11-26T10:14:03.420-08:00The Johnsonville Update<b>The Number One Son</b> began driving and worked all summer/fall at a local nursery--Petals from the Past. He has spent countless hours preparing for basketball season and it is upon us. He's a junior and preparing for college already. He hopes to join Elise at U of Mobile in 2020 when he graduates. Right now, nursing appears to be the end game today. Tomorrow it might be starship captain. We shall see.<br />
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<b>The Little Flower</b> began speaking. She's been in speech therapy for months now, and has begun to share her opinions loudly with great enthusiasm. (It's freaking everyone out.) For example, she gave a diatribe about gun control and social/racial structure in her history class. Like complete with arm flinging and raised voice. </div>
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<b>The Husband</b> is doing great in his new job. He's been selling cars for a year and has broken every goal he set for himself. We miss full-time ministry, but at the same time we don't miss full time ministry. It's an adjustment but a relief in the same breath. Ministry is hard on a family, but glory to God. </div>
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<b>Nana </b>is still plugging along. She's crocheting, gardening, eating, cooking, churching, and being Nana. </div>
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<b>Elise </b>has been able to come home once or twice a month since going to Mobile. She's had a busy schedule, attended several Smile-a-Mile events, and got an amazing ministry/job opportunity for summer with Camp Winshape. She's excited and nervous but mostly excited. She'll be gone from mid May until mid August the entire summer working and saving money. </div>
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<b>Elaina</b> is learning a new volleyball tracking system to keep stats for the volleyball home games. She tried basketball for awhile and decided it just wasn't for her. It was too much with classes and work study and traditions. She felt like she wasn't committed enough to be an asset to the team and I was proud that she moved from the basketball program into the volleyball program. Her classes are gong well and she loves Judson.<br />
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The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6949061351755583622.post-85782516399567960232018-11-26T10:03:00.003-08:002018-11-26T10:20:04.976-08:00Random NothingnessRandom:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58Z_CilFci7cvArGNp6Wq_gjujyc6MDBxyElOooPkesVgc0o3RUG6JN4AmsFzfemzwG1T_wZz7kn-xt81l8w3cMtEuEJbvTvjRoUWf40hfBlSjBnFYERrh0tF0Nzk-SB0QPZk6xV-wB5P/s1600/42104342_10156531750869000_6254752588172886016_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58Z_CilFci7cvArGNp6Wq_gjujyc6MDBxyElOooPkesVgc0o3RUG6JN4AmsFzfemzwG1T_wZz7kn-xt81l8w3cMtEuEJbvTvjRoUWf40hfBlSjBnFYERrh0tF0Nzk-SB0QPZk6xV-wB5P/s320/42104342_10156531750869000_6254752588172886016_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1.) So, with the play, the graduation, the senior trip, school accreditation visit, and various other things like final exams, basketball camp, wisdom teeth extraction, ear surgery, moving two kids into two different colleges, financing said college, starting a new school year, etc., our family has been in a blender for a couple of months. I'm so glad all of those things happened, but now I'm happy they are maybe under control now or over. Basketball is right around the corner. Glad I got some things off of my plate before then. #basketballParent</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2.) I don't care what happens in my life from this point on. I am strong enough because God goes with me and before me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3.) If you mess with my kids, I won't need to intervene anymore. They can take you on all by themselves. And they have not only my permission but my blessing. #BetterBackItUpTerry #PutItInReverse</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4.) <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> Lillian was actually deaf in one ear and partially deaf in the other before she had an ear surgery. Now she thinks we are all insane and loud and wishes she couldn't hear again. #poplillydesigns </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
5.) <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Carter is a terrible patient. I'm already praying for his future wife. #wisdomTeethExtraction</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">6.) <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Elaina is a saint. She's also mean as a snake. Depends. I'd back up a couple of feet and make sure before proceeding. #naynuhOnPoint</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">7.) <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Elise was the kid at the beginning of her senior year voted most likely in Johnsonville to flee and never look back. Now after a year home with me she's most likely to be homesick. Like 'can I please leave summer camp' homesick. #goingtoworkforCampWinshapeAllSummerTenWeeksAwayFromHome</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">8.) I don't hate anyone, but there are some people on my "seriously dislike" list. I'm praying for you. Mostly so I won't harm you, but it still counts. #PrayForYourEnemies</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">9.) Steve is a spectacular salesman. Seriously. Like he's the bomb. #GrinninWithMcKinnon (there's your shameless plug, Darling.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">10.) I hate country music. It's my children's favorite form of rebellion. (If that's all the rebellion I have to deal with, kudos to me for the parenting win.) #ALittleRebellionIsGoodForTheSoul</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">11.) My girls are adulting the heck out of college. I haven't had to make a single phone call or intervene on anything, including the business office. #Winning</span><br />
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<br />The Mother Bearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024083871654575413noreply@blogger.com0