The following conversation took place while tucking Murray in last night.
Murray: Mama, are there houses in heaven?
Me: Yes, Murray, God has a place for all of His children, because He loves us all SO much.
Murray: Grandma Kathy tickled my feet.
Me: She did? When?
Murray: When I was sleeping one day. I giggled.
Murray: I just wanted to know if there were blankets in heaven.
Me: Yep, there sure is! God has lots of fluffy blankets just for you!
Murray: Will He have my white blanket?
Murray: Mama, are there animals in heaven?
Me: You bet, Mur! There are lots and lots of animals.
Murray: How come?
Me: Because God loves animals and people, just the same. In God's eyes, we're all perfect.
He created everything on earth with lots and lots of love.
Murray: What happens when you get to heaven? Are there games? Are there toys? What about
houses? Will our house be there? Can we play in heaven? Do people still love us in
heaven?
Me: Yes, Murray. Heaven is a much better place that anything here on Earth. And, God has a
Huge Kingdom for all of us to live together. Isn't that great?
Murray: What about songs? Are there songs in heaven?
Me: Yes, in heaven, everyone sings with joy, because they love God and heaven so much.
I relied on my Catholic upbringing and blind faith to get through this conversation. More devout Catholics than I may have chosen to answer his questions differently, and honestly, my Catholicism is a work in progress.
I love that he's curious. I just wish I had the perfect answers. Like I said, I'm a work in progress.
Good thing he's going to St. Joseph's in the fall. I might have to join him.
Showing posts with label Things to Think About. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things to Think About. Show all posts
Broken Wings
I'm not a person who really likes figurines. I find that they look cluttery. Plus, I'm a klutz, so they tend to break. That said, I do own a few that I cherish.
My Mom gave me this the last time she stayed at our house. She wanted her grandchild to have a guardian angel.
I was devastated when I came home from work one evening to discover a note from the cleaning service. The cleaning person had been dusting a shelf in Murray's room, and the angel fell off. As a result, the angel's wing suffered some damage.
My sister, Maggie, gave this one to me as a Mother's Day gift in 2007, my first "official" Mother's Day. .JPG)
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We were shopping with our Mom. She noticed me admiring it, and when I wasn't looking, she purchased it. I'll never forget the giggles the three of us shared that day.
Mags also bought us this last one, which I love, love, love. It used to look like this:
It was a gift from her after Murray was born. She was one of the first people to hold Murray. Every time I look at this, I remember her cradling a swaddled Murray whispering, "Hello, peanut."
Now it looks like this:
I dropped it once, Craig dropped it once, and this last time, Rudy's tail is responsible. Sadly, I can't find a replacement online. The good news is, we have all of the pieces and super glue does amazing work.
I think they're all beautiful, even with cracks, imperfections, and broken wings. Each one has a story, sweet reminders of acts of love and kindness.
Just like people.
Bah, Resolutions
I've never been one to get excited about a new year. Resolutions? Not for me. Too much pressure. For example: Lose 40 pounds. Go to church more often. Be a kind person. Get organized. Volunteer.
Etcetera.
All of the above are great things to resolve to do, achieve, accomplish. But I find that my New Year's resolutions tend to last for a few days and then are cast aside like a used tissue.
So, instead of ringing in the new year with promises to myself and others, I strive to be a better person each and every day. I really do. There are days when I resolve to do something simple, like smile at a passerby; when in reality, I feel like growling. Or maybe I'll send DH a short email reminding him that I love him, even if we're arguing. Or, I'll give Rudy some extra TLC, despite the fact that he just had a rabbit for breakfast, and I'm not happy with him.
Then, there are the bigger resolutions: Go for a walk. Reach out to a friend. Take more time to sit with Murray and play a game, read a book, or sing a song. Stop talking so much and listen. Slow down. Help someone in need. Spend more time praying. Be kind. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and enjoy life.
I'm not perfect. I don't want to be. My "everyday resolutions" often fail. I'm a work in progress. Aren't we all?
Etcetera.
All of the above are great things to resolve to do, achieve, accomplish. But I find that my New Year's resolutions tend to last for a few days and then are cast aside like a used tissue.
So, instead of ringing in the new year with promises to myself and others, I strive to be a better person each and every day. I really do. There are days when I resolve to do something simple, like smile at a passerby; when in reality, I feel like growling. Or maybe I'll send DH a short email reminding him that I love him, even if we're arguing. Or, I'll give Rudy some extra TLC, despite the fact that he just had a rabbit for breakfast, and I'm not happy with him.
Then, there are the bigger resolutions: Go for a walk. Reach out to a friend. Take more time to sit with Murray and play a game, read a book, or sing a song. Stop talking so much and listen. Slow down. Help someone in need. Spend more time praying. Be kind. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and enjoy life.
I'm not perfect. I don't want to be. My "everyday resolutions" often fail. I'm a work in progress. Aren't we all?
Daddy's Hands
I love it when my Dad visits, which he did last weekend. He's a big kid at heart but also an awesome father to my sister and I and grandfather to Murray.
Murray thinks the world of him - we all do, but in Murray's eyes he is nothing short of a hero. The feeling is mutual. Grandpa Doug took part in water fights (the rest of us watched), pretended to be a jungle gym, took Murray on long walks, played endless games of hide and seek, and woke up every morning to cuddle and watch PBS. The two of them read books and sang songs and played Memory. He set up a tent and told the ghost story of the "Blue Bear" and practiced casting with a new fishing pole.
The special relationship that the two of them share brings a flood of my own memories. My Dad and my sister and I have always enjoyed a special bond, (although we were equally close to our Mom. We have great parents.) Dad held my hand when I was in pain, counseled me through fights with my friends, scolded me when I was late for curfew, cried when I went to prom, took me hunting and fishing, and put together my bunk beds when I moved into the dorm. He was there when my Mom was sick and died, helped me through countless heartbreaks, walked me down the aisle, and welcomed Craig to our family. When Murray was born, he was so excited he could hardly speak.
The best thing? He still does all of those things for his adult children. When I'm sad, he lets me cry. When I'm mad, he lets me rage. He believes in me and gives me (too much) credit. He gently lets me know if I'm wrong. He adores my sister and I, and wants to help us when we're in need. He has the hands of a worker and the heart of a child; never questioning, always loving.
No family is perfect and ours certainly isn't. We all have our ups and downs and battles to face. But at least we have each other. Thanks, Dad.
-MM
Murray thinks the world of him - we all do, but in Murray's eyes he is nothing short of a hero. The feeling is mutual. Grandpa Doug took part in water fights (the rest of us watched), pretended to be a jungle gym, took Murray on long walks, played endless games of hide and seek, and woke up every morning to cuddle and watch PBS. The two of them read books and sang songs and played Memory. He set up a tent and told the ghost story of the "Blue Bear" and practiced casting with a new fishing pole.
The special relationship that the two of them share brings a flood of my own memories. My Dad and my sister and I have always enjoyed a special bond, (although we were equally close to our Mom. We have great parents.) Dad held my hand when I was in pain, counseled me through fights with my friends, scolded me when I was late for curfew, cried when I went to prom, took me hunting and fishing, and put together my bunk beds when I moved into the dorm. He was there when my Mom was sick and died, helped me through countless heartbreaks, walked me down the aisle, and welcomed Craig to our family. When Murray was born, he was so excited he could hardly speak.
The best thing? He still does all of those things for his adult children. When I'm sad, he lets me cry. When I'm mad, he lets me rage. He believes in me and gives me (too much) credit. He gently lets me know if I'm wrong. He adores my sister and I, and wants to help us when we're in need. He has the hands of a worker and the heart of a child; never questioning, always loving.
No family is perfect and ours certainly isn't. We all have our ups and downs and battles to face. But at least we have each other. Thanks, Dad.
-MM
A Taboo Topic (But Not Anymore!)
I'm pro-life.
I have always believed so. I didn't know how much I've believed until recently.
Have you ever had the experience that you are on the outside looking in? Or have you ever just realized something different from what you thought after it happened to you? How has it affected you? What did you do (or would have done) differently?
The reason for my questions is what my good friend, Roxane has inspired me to ask. Peace Garden Mama (a.k.a Roxane) puts abortion into a perspective that I am incapable of writing. I thank you, Roxane, for allowing me to re-post your writing. The words that follow are not my own, but they are poignant and true.
I see hope; the tenacity of a fragile stem ignoring what should be possible, pushing toward light despite the hostile environment it is bound to enter.
This photograph speaks to me in a particularly vivid way right now, especially concerning a recent calling of the heart. Despite my intentions, I've been finding myself lately on the sidewalk in front of North Dakota's only abortion facility. Yes, moi, the gal who always thought her pro-life convictions would be best shared in a "safe" place. Through the written word, for example, or a radio interview, but certainly not as an active sidewalk-counselor-in-training.
About a month ago, I interviewed on our local Catholic radio station the woman -- Elizabeth McClung -- who helped effect the conversion of former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson to the side of life. When I listened to the podcast of that interview a few weeks later, I was jarred to hear myself telling Elizabeth that praying for life publicly "isn't for everyone." I was speaking about myself.
But then Abby came to Fargo and I had a chance to hear her story in person, both from her mouth and through her bestselling book, Unplanned. When I realized Elizabeth's prayers and the flowers and card she had offered Abby two years before her conversion had made a difference, despite many days, weeks and months of it all seeming futile, things changed inside of me. When Abby challenged us to not forget about what she'd shared, and insisted the women seeking abortions needed to hear our voices, I could no longer ignore the still, small voice within me.
Then again I might have, if not for my 13-year-old daughter, who'd also met Abby.
"Mom, can we stand out on the sidewalk again this Wednesday?" she asked a few days before "abortion day," the week following our meeting with Abby. It nearly took my breath away to hear her request, but I recognized the opportunity at once and knew I could not diminish it.
"Sure, let's do that," I said, not quite believing what was happening. Her young voice was rising above the din of my doubts, giving me courage to shoo away my timidity.
"No offense, Mom," she added, "but maybe, because I'm younger and all, I might make more of an impact."
"You know, you could be right about that," I said, not able to deny wisdom as it stared me in the face.
Indeed, her presence could well make a difference. It already had. The week before, as we stood there with the others praying in the rain, a car full of hecklers driving past yelled obscenities at us from our sidewalk perch.
"What was that?" she asked, turning to me. Then, in an impeccably timed moment, she added, "Oh, they must just be jealous of my good hair day."
It's exactly what I needed to decrease the tension and sadness I felt watching one woman after another walk into the facility, knowing she would come out a changed person, and not for the better. As one bumper sticker I read recently says: "Abortion: one life lost, another wounded."
This week I returned without my daughter, who was out of town, and though I'm still a sidewalk newbie, I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know where I can and can't stand ("Don't touch the green carpet!"). I've gotten to know some of the names of the abortion facility escorts; some of whom are very aggressive toward those who've come to pray, others who are quieter, perhaps new like me, just trying to figure things out.
And I've discovered that I'm not content to only pray, though prayer is certainly one of the most valuable things I can do. I've reached out to several of the escorts in an attempt to get to know them. One of them was very receptive this week. I know that everyone, no matter what side of the sidewalk they're on, truly believes they are helping women. But I also know that it can't be the case that taking life is ever a positive, and that I have entered the front lines of a war zone. Lives of the mothers, the babies, and all those who love them are at stake.
I can't completely explain what has compelled me to take up a post on this sidewalk of all the sidewalks in North Dakota, but I definitely feel it as a strong stirring, an urgent call to action, though certainly not one I would have willingly chosen.
Perhaps God has had this in mind for me for a long time, but I've only recently become ready. I'm beginning to think that might be the case. Regardless, I'm becoming bolder. I want to meet the workers of the facility and somehow, in whatever way I can, give them the same sense of hope I've experienced while looking upon a weed that refuses to give up on light
Thank you, Roxane, for touching on a sensitive topic. So many people are unable or unwilling to discuss abortion. I can't preach that I'm an expert. I know I haven't done enough to stop this. But now I can be pro-active. I'm joining my courageous and diligent friend, Roxane on Wednesday on the sidewalk.
Prayers to unborn babies and to the women and men who are confused. There are always options.
If you'd like to see the original post, go to http://www.peacegardenmama.com/
I have always believed so. I didn't know how much I've believed until recently.
Have you ever had the experience that you are on the outside looking in? Or have you ever just realized something different from what you thought after it happened to you? How has it affected you? What did you do (or would have done) differently?
The reason for my questions is what my good friend, Roxane has inspired me to ask. Peace Garden Mama (a.k.a Roxane) puts abortion into a perspective that I am incapable of writing. I thank you, Roxane, for allowing me to re-post your writing. The words that follow are not my own, but they are poignant and true.
I see hope; the tenacity of a fragile stem ignoring what should be possible, pushing toward light despite the hostile environment it is bound to enter.
This photograph speaks to me in a particularly vivid way right now, especially concerning a recent calling of the heart. Despite my intentions, I've been finding myself lately on the sidewalk in front of North Dakota's only abortion facility. Yes, moi, the gal who always thought her pro-life convictions would be best shared in a "safe" place. Through the written word, for example, or a radio interview, but certainly not as an active sidewalk-counselor-in-training.
About a month ago, I interviewed on our local Catholic radio station the woman -- Elizabeth McClung -- who helped effect the conversion of former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson to the side of life. When I listened to the podcast of that interview a few weeks later, I was jarred to hear myself telling Elizabeth that praying for life publicly "isn't for everyone." I was speaking about myself.
But then Abby came to Fargo and I had a chance to hear her story in person, both from her mouth and through her bestselling book, Unplanned. When I realized Elizabeth's prayers and the flowers and card she had offered Abby two years before her conversion had made a difference, despite many days, weeks and months of it all seeming futile, things changed inside of me. When Abby challenged us to not forget about what she'd shared, and insisted the women seeking abortions needed to hear our voices, I could no longer ignore the still, small voice within me.
Then again I might have, if not for my 13-year-old daughter, who'd also met Abby.
"Mom, can we stand out on the sidewalk again this Wednesday?" she asked a few days before "abortion day," the week following our meeting with Abby. It nearly took my breath away to hear her request, but I recognized the opportunity at once and knew I could not diminish it.
"Sure, let's do that," I said, not quite believing what was happening. Her young voice was rising above the din of my doubts, giving me courage to shoo away my timidity.
"No offense, Mom," she added, "but maybe, because I'm younger and all, I might make more of an impact."
"You know, you could be right about that," I said, not able to deny wisdom as it stared me in the face.
Indeed, her presence could well make a difference. It already had. The week before, as we stood there with the others praying in the rain, a car full of hecklers driving past yelled obscenities at us from our sidewalk perch.
"What was that?" she asked, turning to me. Then, in an impeccably timed moment, she added, "Oh, they must just be jealous of my good hair day."
It's exactly what I needed to decrease the tension and sadness I felt watching one woman after another walk into the facility, knowing she would come out a changed person, and not for the better. As one bumper sticker I read recently says: "Abortion: one life lost, another wounded."
This week I returned without my daughter, who was out of town, and though I'm still a sidewalk newbie, I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know where I can and can't stand ("Don't touch the green carpet!"). I've gotten to know some of the names of the abortion facility escorts; some of whom are very aggressive toward those who've come to pray, others who are quieter, perhaps new like me, just trying to figure things out.
And I've discovered that I'm not content to only pray, though prayer is certainly one of the most valuable things I can do. I've reached out to several of the escorts in an attempt to get to know them. One of them was very receptive this week. I know that everyone, no matter what side of the sidewalk they're on, truly believes they are helping women. But I also know that it can't be the case that taking life is ever a positive, and that I have entered the front lines of a war zone. Lives of the mothers, the babies, and all those who love them are at stake.
I can't completely explain what has compelled me to take up a post on this sidewalk of all the sidewalks in North Dakota, but I definitely feel it as a strong stirring, an urgent call to action, though certainly not one I would have willingly chosen.
Perhaps God has had this in mind for me for a long time, but I've only recently become ready. I'm beginning to think that might be the case. Regardless, I'm becoming bolder. I want to meet the workers of the facility and somehow, in whatever way I can, give them the same sense of hope I've experienced while looking upon a weed that refuses to give up on light
Thank you, Roxane, for touching on a sensitive topic. So many people are unable or unwilling to discuss abortion. I can't preach that I'm an expert. I know I haven't done enough to stop this. But now I can be pro-active. I'm joining my courageous and diligent friend, Roxane on Wednesday on the sidewalk.
Prayers to unborn babies and to the women and men who are confused. There are always options.
If you'd like to see the original post, go to http://www.peacegardenmama.com/
Marriage = Teamwork
We all have things that we excel at and then, there are those other things that we could do a bit better. For instance, when it comes to our household, DH is the picker-upper-organizer-put-things-in-their-place guy. Myself, I'm the sanitizer-scrubber-make-sure-the-ants-stay-away guy. Craig is also the do-the-laundry guy, but I'm the clean-clothes-putter-away-guy. Our personalities work beautifully when we sync. And when we do, we're an amazing team.
There are times though, when we aren't on the same page. Last week, I decided to clean the entry way. Doing so, I shoved everything from it into the front porch and put back what we needed...and left the rest...in the porch. Craig was sweet not to say anything and he still isn't pushing me about finishing the job I started. I suppose it has to do something with the fact that he cleaned the truck and put the junk in tubs (that I had purchased to organize the porch stuff) and placed them on one of the couches. At least his mess is contained and we can approach it when we have some time. Besides, most of it is the boxes from my old office which I'm still struggling with the fact that I have to put away. Sometimes, when I know that DH has a particularly busy travel schedule, I will even help with the mowing (this doesn't sound like a big deal, but our mower is self propelled and only has one speed - FAST - which means I'm literally running behind it and wheezing and sneezing the entire way). Doing chores that will ease his load makes me feel as though I'm a contributor.
But when we go to Craig's parent's home, or the lake, we manage to stick together. I may help with cooking or cleaning, but Craig is mowing, updating the computer, picking up dog remnants, washing the boat or dishes, and what have you. My point is simple: even when we don't agree, it usually works out in the end.
This is one of the very many beautiful things about marriage; pray together, stay together. Work together, stay together. It just doesn't get any better.
God bless our late, injured and active troops.
One more thing: Does anyone know how to transfer pictures from my phone to my blog? I've tried, but it's not working. Thanks in advance!
There are times though, when we aren't on the same page. Last week, I decided to clean the entry way. Doing so, I shoved everything from it into the front porch and put back what we needed...and left the rest...in the porch. Craig was sweet not to say anything and he still isn't pushing me about finishing the job I started. I suppose it has to do something with the fact that he cleaned the truck and put the junk in tubs (that I had purchased to organize the porch stuff) and placed them on one of the couches. At least his mess is contained and we can approach it when we have some time. Besides, most of it is the boxes from my old office which I'm still struggling with the fact that I have to put away. Sometimes, when I know that DH has a particularly busy travel schedule, I will even help with the mowing (this doesn't sound like a big deal, but our mower is self propelled and only has one speed - FAST - which means I'm literally running behind it and wheezing and sneezing the entire way). Doing chores that will ease his load makes me feel as though I'm a contributor.
But when we go to Craig's parent's home, or the lake, we manage to stick together. I may help with cooking or cleaning, but Craig is mowing, updating the computer, picking up dog remnants, washing the boat or dishes, and what have you. My point is simple: even when we don't agree, it usually works out in the end.
This is one of the very many beautiful things about marriage; pray together, stay together. Work together, stay together. It just doesn't get any better.
God bless our late, injured and active troops.
One more thing: Does anyone know how to transfer pictures from my phone to my blog? I've tried, but it's not working. Thanks in advance!
It's the Little Things
Today I:
Slept in (God bless DH), showered, dressed, applied make up, went to work, ran reports, spoke with students, worked on events, commiserated with colleagues, ran more reports, scoured the city for donations, let the dogs out, went back to work, went home for the day, scrubbed the house, forgot to re-load the laundry (kudos to my co-pilot), played balloon with Murman, cooked dinner, conversed with DH, threw the ball for the hounds, played some more with Murman, and now, finally, I'm relaxing on the couch with the cat. The result? A happy kid, a satisfied husband, played out dogs, a clean home, and an extremely tired me. Benefits? Complete, utter contentment. Yes, there is always work to be done, but the rest will wait until tomorrow. This is the ultimate life. I look forward to a repeat tomorrow.
Safe travels G&G!
Slept in (God bless DH), showered, dressed, applied make up, went to work, ran reports, spoke with students, worked on events, commiserated with colleagues, ran more reports, scoured the city for donations, let the dogs out, went back to work, went home for the day, scrubbed the house, forgot to re-load the laundry (kudos to my co-pilot), played balloon with Murman, cooked dinner, conversed with DH, threw the ball for the hounds, played some more with Murman, and now, finally, I'm relaxing on the couch with the cat. The result? A happy kid, a satisfied husband, played out dogs, a clean home, and an extremely tired me. Benefits? Complete, utter contentment. Yes, there is always work to be done, but the rest will wait until tomorrow. This is the ultimate life. I look forward to a repeat tomorrow.
Safe travels G&G!
One Question
When in the HECK is spring EVER going to get here? I'm not much of a "swearer", but you get my drift. This has been the longest winter that I can remember. Of course Craig falling off a roof, my starting a new job, plus several other factors beyond my control, it's no wonder that I've had it with this weather. I'm grateful that we don't have to worry about tsunami's, earthquakes, etc., but I am on the brink of insanity. Mother Nature is not at the top of my list at the moment, but I highly suspect that I'm not alone.
I read a fantastic article yesterday written by Dr. Alan Zimmerman. In it he states, "...life and work are unfair, and there is a lot we can...and should...justifiably gripe about. But it's time to GET BEYOND the griping to taking personal initiative and responsibility." This struck a cord with me in a big way. It's time to stop worrying about the stressors that I can't control and deal with those that I can (think Serenity Prayer).
That said, I'm still grumpy about the ridiculous weather, but I might as well let it go. It's not worth the energy.
What CAN I control? My own happiness, and that is so worth the energy.
2011 Reprinted with permission from Dr. Alan Zimmerman, a full-time professional speaker who specializes in attitude, motivation, and leadership programs that pay off. For more information on his programs...or to receive you own free subscription to the 'Tuesday Tip" go to http://www.drzimmerman.com/ or call 800-621-7881.
I read a fantastic article yesterday written by Dr. Alan Zimmerman. In it he states, "...life and work are unfair, and there is a lot we can...and should...justifiably gripe about. But it's time to GET BEYOND the griping to taking personal initiative and responsibility." This struck a cord with me in a big way. It's time to stop worrying about the stressors that I can't control and deal with those that I can (think Serenity Prayer).
That said, I'm still grumpy about the ridiculous weather, but I might as well let it go. It's not worth the energy.
What CAN I control? My own happiness, and that is so worth the energy.
2011 Reprinted with permission from Dr. Alan Zimmerman, a full-time professional speaker who specializes in attitude, motivation, and leadership programs that pay off. For more information on his programs...or to receive you own free subscription to the 'Tuesday Tip" go to http://www.drzimmerman.com/ or call 800-621-7881.
I woke up this morning to warm breath in my face and a voice that asked, "Mama, do you have to go to work AGAIN?" After I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes (it was only 5:45 a.m.) I replied, "Yes, Murray, I do have to go to work today." With tears in his eyes, a pout on his lips, he asked, "But why, Mama?" "I have to go to work so that I can make money to buy food and clothes and do fun things, I said." With that, he cheered right up, took me by the hand and exclaimed, "Get in the shower, Mom, time to get to work." Craig was outside the door laughing; who better to tell me to go to work than a 3-year-old?
It's been a busy week, but isn't it always? I love it. I love being busy, feeling productive, and even the challenges. But the best part, despite the crazy, is appreciating the peace and quiet once in a while.
Happy weekend! May you find a few moments to find some "you" time. And I hope you can enjoy it by the fire place with a good book.
It's been a busy week, but isn't it always? I love it. I love being busy, feeling productive, and even the challenges. But the best part, despite the crazy, is appreciating the peace and quiet once in a while.
Happy weekend! May you find a few moments to find some "you" time. And I hope you can enjoy it by the fire place with a good book.
I've Had it, and It's Only December
I can't help it. I'm miserable. I hate winter, I loathe snow, and I don't understand the "hearty Midwest attitude". I would rather suffer through Chinese torture than have to put up with this weather. If I hear one more comment about how beautiful the snow is, I might be sick. I did not choose to live here, but I did choose my family (which is much more important than my misery) and so I will make an effort to be positive (after this post).
That said, I ventured out today to take Murray to see Santa (thank goodness for Astro-Start). It took all of fifteen minutes and we were back in the truck and on our way home. The whole experience was worth it only because Murray loved sitting on Santa's lap. A fuzzy picture and five dollars later we headed home to show Daddy.
Anyway, if we don't find jobs somewhere warm, I just might lose my mind. For those of you who think I've already lost it, you're right; I live in Minnesota. "Grumpy Old Men" makes this weather look fun. But that's Hollywood for you. Everything is perfect. The only great part about our state is lake season, but I can find water anywhere.
So hear I am, complaining about the weather, when most people that I know and love have many tragedies happening at the moment. I'm blessed with the health of my family and friends and for that, I'm grateful. Spring will come eventually and until then, you won't recognize me because I will be completely covered in blankets, hats, mittens, and scarves in triple layers with Astrro-Start at the ready.
Seasons Greetings!
That said, I ventured out today to take Murray to see Santa (thank goodness for Astro-Start). It took all of fifteen minutes and we were back in the truck and on our way home. The whole experience was worth it only because Murray loved sitting on Santa's lap. A fuzzy picture and five dollars later we headed home to show Daddy.
Anyway, if we don't find jobs somewhere warm, I just might lose my mind. For those of you who think I've already lost it, you're right; I live in Minnesota. "Grumpy Old Men" makes this weather look fun. But that's Hollywood for you. Everything is perfect. The only great part about our state is lake season, but I can find water anywhere.
So hear I am, complaining about the weather, when most people that I know and love have many tragedies happening at the moment. I'm blessed with the health of my family and friends and for that, I'm grateful. Spring will come eventually and until then, you won't recognize me because I will be completely covered in blankets, hats, mittens, and scarves in triple layers with Astrro-Start at the ready.
Seasons Greetings!
Conversations with Angels
We speak candidly and often to Murray about my late mom, Grandma Kathy. He can recognize her in pictures, knows details about her life, and he knows that she is in Heaven. A recent conversation went something like this (I actually had to write it down so that I wouldn't forget):
Murray: "Look, mama, it's you and Grandma Kathy!"
Me: "Yes, that is Grandma Kathy and mama."
Murray: "Grandma Kathy died? She in Heaven?"
Me: "Yes, Grandma Kathy is in Heaven. Even though we can't see her or talk to her, she
is with God watching over us" (tears well, I start to sniffle).
Murray: "Mama, she an angel. She say it's OK, she told me" (bursts into "Twinkle Twinkle",
which he sings to anyone who is sad).
Me: Speechless, now my tears are flowing freely.
This three-year-old wisdom astounds me. I don't really know if he gets it, but his thoughts and actions are such a comfort to me. I love that he's growing up to be such a gentle, sensitive, caring boy; the angels get all the cr
edit.
edit. I'll leave you with a picture from the first snowfall of the season; a whopping 12.5 inches in less than 24 hours.
Murrayisms-Update
Murray's latest vocabulary:
"Oh man!" (when something is just unbelievable)
"Oh DARN IT!" (if he has made a mess)
"Daddy, light is green, you can go." (pretty obvious)
"Stupid Daddy!" (he said it once and I guarantee, he'll never say it again)
"Don't forget the M&M's, Mama." (very nonchalantly while Craig and I were making a grocery list and we assumed he wasn't paying attention)
"I wanna go back to Duwuth, pwease?" (big crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks while driving away from the big "yake")
"I'm going swimming!" (this, at 7am; Murray walking out the hotel room door wearing only underwear and shoes; Craig and I still in bed)
"Hey, what's that?" (every five seconds)
"Nawa, kenn up!" (asking Nala to stop barking "kennel up" is her command to stop, but it rarely works)
"Mama, sing garage song, pwease? "(he is referring to Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi; yes, I do sing rock, country, classics as well as nursery rhymes, i.e. Winken, Blinken and Nod - I like to mix it up, even though every one I know other than Murray begs me to sing "SoLo")
We hear so many new words, phrases, and confusing sentences from Murray every day that we are amazed at the ability of a soon-to-be three to think, act and speak as we do. Of course, we think he's a genius, but when all is said and done, we know how completely conceited we are.
Here's to celebrating children. What better gift could God bless us with?
"Hey, what's that?" (every five seconds)
"Nawa, kenn up!" (asking Nala to stop barking "kennel up" is her command to stop, but it rarely works)
"Mama, sing garage song, pwease? "(he is referring to Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi; yes, I do sing rock, country, classics as well as nursery rhymes, i.e. Winken, Blinken and Nod - I like to mix it up, even though every one I know other than Murray begs me to sing "SoLo")
We hear so many new words, phrases, and confusing sentences from Murray every day that we are amazed at the ability of a soon-to-be three to think, act and speak as we do. Of course, we think he's a genius, but when all is said and done, we know how completely conceited we are.
Here's to celebrating children. What better gift could God bless us with?
Dear Mom, It's Me, Marie
Warning: This is a pretty maudlin post, so if you aren't in the mood to feel down or cry, don't read it. Some may say that it's inappropriate, but it's my blog, and my blog is my therapy, so I'm posting it anyway.
Dear Mom, it's me, Ree,
I woke up this morning thinking of you; wishing that I could feel your arms around me just one more time. Oh, how I would give anything for a hug and a conversation. Since I couldn't speak to you, I did what you've always told us to do when we're far apart: I wrapped my arms around myself and pretended it was you. And then I pondered how things would be different if you were still here. If Heaven had an airline, I would be on the next flight. I pose the following questions knowing that you can't answer me in person, but with the faith that you are answering in spirit.
What would you have done when Murray woke up at 5:30am this morning demanding to watch a movie? (we said no)
How would you have reacted when he threw an enormous temper tantrum when I said "no"? Lord knows, you've dealt with more than your fair share of tantrums when Maggie was Murray's age and when I was Maggie's (current) age. Ha! (we took the dvd player away and let him cry it out)
What would you say if I asked you how to make french dips for the millionth time? We're craving them and although you wrote the recipe for me, it would be so much easier just to call you. (You'd laugh and patiently explain every step and detail)
Did you know that our phone bill has decreased by 50% since November 3, 2007? I miss our multiple daily chats more than I could ever have imagined. (although Craig used to complain, even he wishes our phone bill was high again)
What would you tell me to do if I called and said that I'm sad? (you would probably tell me to look around and find something, anything, to be happy about, even if it's the dead of winter)
What would you say to Murray if you could speak to him? (my guess is that you would tell him how much you love him and you would teach him things that only Grandma's can)
What would you say to Craig if you could speak to him? (I think you'd tell him that he's doing a fine job as a husband and father and that you are proud of him)
What would you say if you could speak to Mags? (OH, so many things, but mostly how proud of her you are and that she's turned into a fabulous woman)
Do you visit us in our dreams? (I think so)
What's Heaven like? How's God? How's Mary? (I don't have an answer for this one, but my guess is that everyone up there is watching out for you, for us, for our loved ones)
I have so many more questions, but I think you get the idea, Mom. How would we all be different if you hadn't gotten sick? I heard a quote the other day: "God makes no mistakes." It struck me dumb because even though I'm horrified that you're gone, I have to keep reminding myself that you really aren't gone, that you are with Him.
In a conversation with Grandma Kate while I was in labor with Murray, I started to cry and asked how I could possibly be a good mom without your help. Her answer was simple. She said, "Marie, she's already taught you to be a mom; by raising you!" So though your life was infinitely too short, I am so blessed to have had you for the time that I did. We all are.
I love you mom.
Dear Mom, it's me, Ree,
I woke up this morning thinking of you; wishing that I could feel your arms around me just one more time. Oh, how I would give anything for a hug and a conversation. Since I couldn't speak to you, I did what you've always told us to do when we're far apart: I wrapped my arms around myself and pretended it was you. And then I pondered how things would be different if you were still here. If Heaven had an airline, I would be on the next flight. I pose the following questions knowing that you can't answer me in person, but with the faith that you are answering in spirit.
What would you have done when Murray woke up at 5:30am this morning demanding to watch a movie? (we said no)
How would you have reacted when he threw an enormous temper tantrum when I said "no"? Lord knows, you've dealt with more than your fair share of tantrums when Maggie was Murray's age and when I was Maggie's (current) age. Ha! (we took the dvd player away and let him cry it out)
What would you say if I asked you how to make french dips for the millionth time? We're craving them and although you wrote the recipe for me, it would be so much easier just to call you. (You'd laugh and patiently explain every step and detail)
Did you know that our phone bill has decreased by 50% since November 3, 2007? I miss our multiple daily chats more than I could ever have imagined. (although Craig used to complain, even he wishes our phone bill was high again)
What would you tell me to do if I called and said that I'm sad? (you would probably tell me to look around and find something, anything, to be happy about, even if it's the dead of winter)
What would you say to Murray if you could speak to him? (my guess is that you would tell him how much you love him and you would teach him things that only Grandma's can)
What would you say to Craig if you could speak to him? (I think you'd tell him that he's doing a fine job as a husband and father and that you are proud of him)
What would you say if you could speak to Mags? (OH, so many things, but mostly how proud of her you are and that she's turned into a fabulous woman)
Do you visit us in our dreams? (I think so)
What's Heaven like? How's God? How's Mary? (I don't have an answer for this one, but my guess is that everyone up there is watching out for you, for us, for our loved ones)
I have so many more questions, but I think you get the idea, Mom. How would we all be different if you hadn't gotten sick? I heard a quote the other day: "God makes no mistakes." It struck me dumb because even though I'm horrified that you're gone, I have to keep reminding myself that you really aren't gone, that you are with Him.
In a conversation with Grandma Kate while I was in labor with Murray, I started to cry and asked how I could possibly be a good mom without your help. Her answer was simple. She said, "Marie, she's already taught you to be a mom; by raising you!" So though your life was infinitely too short, I am so blessed to have had you for the time that I did. We all are.
I love you mom.
My Next 30 Years
Initially, the thought of turning 30 terrified me. For those of you groaning audibly, let me explain. Not only am I entering a new decade, but it seems as though an era is slipping away. I've been pondering the inevitable for several weeks and I've come to a few conclusions. A trip down memory lane reminded me of how much I've learned; from living, from family, from friends, and even foes. Here are a few in no particular order:
1) Never burn bridges - no matter the temptation.
2) Keep an open mind - much easier said than done.
3) Money and status are of no importance as long as you work hard and be honest.
4) Love and hard work does matter.
5) I am responsible for my own happiness. I can't control the happiness of others, but I can be kind, caring, and compassionate.
6) Sometimes too much pride can be a negative. I've learned to be honest about who I am and I am okay!
Of course, I expect I'll forget these lessons from time to time (although I hope not to), and I expect that I have a lot more to learn. But the basics are there and with the guidance of God, family and friends, I'll keep growing. I've chosen to look at turning thirty as a blessing - the alternative is much worse!
1) Never burn bridges - no matter the temptation.
2) Keep an open mind - much easier said than done.
3) Money and status are of no importance as long as you work hard and be honest.
4) Love and hard work does matter.
5) I am responsible for my own happiness. I can't control the happiness of others, but I can be kind, caring, and compassionate.
6) Sometimes too much pride can be a negative. I've learned to be honest about who I am and I am okay!
Of course, I expect I'll forget these lessons from time to time (although I hope not to), and I expect that I have a lot more to learn. But the basics are there and with the guidance of God, family and friends, I'll keep growing. I've chosen to look at turning thirty as a blessing - the alternative is much worse!
Career Crisis
Question: Do you apply for your dream job, or do you let it go and look for a position that would require less time away from your family?
God and Craig will help me come to a conclusion. It's the typical mom/career/wife conundrum.
God and Craig will help me come to a conclusion. It's the typical mom/career/wife conundrum.
I'm On a Mission
Dear Readers and Facebook Friends,
In a recent post, I discussed chasing one's dreams. After some soul-searching, prayers, and many discussions with DH, I have decided to make some life changes. One of them directly affects my communication with all of you, but it's a decision that needed to be made. It's simply an experiment, but if it works, fabulous, if not, no loss. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Anyway, as of Friday, January 9, 2010, I will be on hiatus from Facebook. This isn't meant to be as dramatic as it sounds. I've just decided that I have been spending entirely too much time checking my status, messages, and the like. I need to cut out some of the non-essentials in life so that I can pursue what I've always wanted to do, which is (for fear of sounding like Ross from "Friends), to concentrate on two of my dreams; music and writing. Let me tell you, both need a lot of work if I want to go anywhere and I need all the extra time I can get! I have finally re-discovered the passion that I've been missing for so long; I've actually ached to feel this way again! This unemployment time has been such a blessing in disguise. God must have realized that I needed some time to sit down and re-evaluate. Thanks to my awesome piano student, I can hardly walk by the piano anymore without sitting down to play - I haven't felt that way in years. I've had lots of time to think about finding out what I really want to do with my life. I'm about eight years behind, but no worries! I'm on my way and I feel better mentally than I have in a long time.
I have so many ideas and plans and the time has come to execute them. Slowly, but surely, I hope to learn, gain insight and someday, with God's blessing, maybe will be the next Lori Line or John Steinbeck. Even if I don't achieve fame and fortune, at least I'll have the knowledge that I fought for what I believed in, what I wanted for myself, my family and my God.
Fmily and friends will never take up too much of my time, it's my own addictive personality that eats at me (I tend to check Facebook about every five minutes, so yes, it's gotten out of control). However, I beg of you to keep in touch via email, blog, or phone. I desperately want to hear from you! Despite the fact that I won't have the immediate contact that I've loved having with all of you, don't be surprised if you receive a good old fashioned snail-mail letter from me. Now that I'm making more time for writing, I hope to post every day instead of sporadically. Again, please keep me posted while I'm "on leave". You can always leave me a comment here, email me at beckerleg@hotmail.com or call any time!
In a recent post, I discussed chasing one's dreams. After some soul-searching, prayers, and many discussions with DH, I have decided to make some life changes. One of them directly affects my communication with all of you, but it's a decision that needed to be made. It's simply an experiment, but if it works, fabulous, if not, no loss. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Anyway, as of Friday, January 9, 2010, I will be on hiatus from Facebook. This isn't meant to be as dramatic as it sounds. I've just decided that I have been spending entirely too much time checking my status, messages, and the like. I need to cut out some of the non-essentials in life so that I can pursue what I've always wanted to do, which is (for fear of sounding like Ross from "Friends), to concentrate on two of my dreams; music and writing. Let me tell you, both need a lot of work if I want to go anywhere and I need all the extra time I can get! I have finally re-discovered the passion that I've been missing for so long; I've actually ached to feel this way again! This unemployment time has been such a blessing in disguise. God must have realized that I needed some time to sit down and re-evaluate. Thanks to my awesome piano student, I can hardly walk by the piano anymore without sitting down to play - I haven't felt that way in years. I've had lots of time to think about finding out what I really want to do with my life. I'm about eight years behind, but no worries! I'm on my way and I feel better mentally than I have in a long time.
I have so many ideas and plans and the time has come to execute them. Slowly, but surely, I hope to learn, gain insight and someday, with God's blessing, maybe will be the next Lori Line or John Steinbeck. Even if I don't achieve fame and fortune, at least I'll have the knowledge that I fought for what I believed in, what I wanted for myself, my family and my God.
Fmily and friends will never take up too much of my time, it's my own addictive personality that eats at me (I tend to check Facebook about every five minutes, so yes, it's gotten out of control). However, I beg of you to keep in touch via email, blog, or phone. I desperately want to hear from you! Despite the fact that I won't have the immediate contact that I've loved having with all of you, don't be surprised if you receive a good old fashioned snail-mail letter from me. Now that I'm making more time for writing, I hope to post every day instead of sporadically. Again, please keep me posted while I'm "on leave". You can always leave me a comment here, email me at beckerleg@hotmail.com or call any time!
"The Impossible Dream"
I've been thinking a lot lately about dreams. That is, what you ultimately want to achive in life. Even if your dreams and goals seem unattainable, it's important to keep on reaching, so, to inspire us all, I've typed the words to "The Impossible Dream" from the musical play "Man of La Mancha" written by Joe Darion and Mitch Leigh (excuse the punctuation, this was adapted from a piano book so it's written in "piano puncuation"):
To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run, where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!
This is my quest, to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far;
To fight for the right without question or pause,
to be willing to march into hell for a Heavenly cause!
And I know, if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful
and calm, when I'm laid to my rest,
And the world will be better for this,
That one man scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable stars.
Isn't this beautiful? The message that gets to me the most is this: When I die, I want my heart to be peaceful and calm, because I HAVE dreamed the impossible dream and worked to achieve it, even if it didn't come true.
With that, keep on dreaming.
God bless,
M
To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run, where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!
This is my quest, to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far;
To fight for the right without question or pause,
to be willing to march into hell for a Heavenly cause!
And I know, if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful
and calm, when I'm laid to my rest,
And the world will be better for this,
That one man scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable stars.
Isn't this beautiful? The message that gets to me the most is this: When I die, I want my heart to be peaceful and calm, because I HAVE dreamed the impossible dream and worked to achieve it, even if it didn't come true.
With that, keep on dreaming.
God bless,
M
Mass-Mania 2
**This post has been edited**
Tonight we opted for the Saturday evening Mass versus the Sunday morning service. We don't intend to do that again. Apparently, children are preferred at the Sunday morning 10:30 Mass. Murray behaved as well as a two-year-old is able to behave, but it was obvious that our fellow parishioners didn't appreciate having a small child at church (we sat in the second to the last pew in order to be able to exit quickly should the need arise). Murray was pretty well behaved, even more so than usual - except for when he sang out of turn and clapped for "more?" when the men's choir finished their first song. I suppose we could also add the time near the end of Mass that he shouted "mama" as loud as he could over and over until the only 2 other children in church began to repeat him, thus starting a "mama shouting war". I hauled Murray out and when he was ready to settle down, we returned to our pew. We honestly believed that we would be welcomed at any service, but we thought wrong. We couldn't believe the rude stares and shushes we received, even though Murray was trying his best (and we were trying our best) to behave. It makes me sad because I want to be welcomed in God's house no matter what service we choose to attend and tonight Craig and I both felt uncomfortable. But I do feel though, that God knows that we were there and He loves all of his unruly children, even us adults. We'll just have to sit in the "crying room" (do they still call it that?) next time we decide to go to church on a Saturday evening. I don't want to compromise anyone elses' experience at Mass; everyone deserves peace at church, no matter the religion, but where do you find balance?
My question is this: When did our religious practices become so darn political? I'm feeling pretty sad about church right now and plan to have a long discussion with Father, but I would appreciate your thoughts.
Tonight we opted for the Saturday evening Mass versus the Sunday morning service. We don't intend to do that again. Apparently, children are preferred at the Sunday morning 10:30 Mass. Murray behaved as well as a two-year-old is able to behave, but it was obvious that our fellow parishioners didn't appreciate having a small child at church (we sat in the second to the last pew in order to be able to exit quickly should the need arise). Murray was pretty well behaved, even more so than usual - except for when he sang out of turn and clapped for "more?" when the men's choir finished their first song. I suppose we could also add the time near the end of Mass that he shouted "mama" as loud as he could over and over until the only 2 other children in church began to repeat him, thus starting a "mama shouting war". I hauled Murray out and when he was ready to settle down, we returned to our pew. We honestly believed that we would be welcomed at any service, but we thought wrong. We couldn't believe the rude stares and shushes we received, even though Murray was trying his best (and we were trying our best) to behave. It makes me sad because I want to be welcomed in God's house no matter what service we choose to attend and tonight Craig and I both felt uncomfortable. But I do feel though, that God knows that we were there and He loves all of his unruly children, even us adults. We'll just have to sit in the "crying room" (do they still call it that?) next time we decide to go to church on a Saturday evening. I don't want to compromise anyone elses' experience at Mass; everyone deserves peace at church, no matter the religion, but where do you find balance?
My question is this: When did our religious practices become so darn political? I'm feeling pretty sad about church right now and plan to have a long discussion with Father, but I would appreciate your thoughts.
A Tribute to Lemmondrops
I've been putting off publishing this post, because I fear that it won't be as eloquent as it deserves and I don't want to sound maudlin. With that in mind, bear with me.
Tomorrow will mark the death of our blogger friend, Emilie Lemmons. She passed away last Christmas Eve after a long battle with cancer. On earth she left her two young sons; Daniel and Benjamin, her husband Stephen, friends, admirers and faithful readers. Emilie had many gifts; first and foremost, her role as a mother and wife. She also had the gift of expression. I so wish that I could have just a tiny bit of her talent. But what's most important (as our fellow friend Roxane , stated much more eloquently than I can) is that her children will know their mother by the honest and true words that she wrote, and of course, Stephen's memories. Although I never did have the chance to meet Emilie, she was a true inspiration. She helped me find passion; in motherhood, in writing, and most of all, the faith that I needed to find so much when my beloved mom passed away. From what I gather, Emilie was peaceful and humble; so much so that she never knew how very many lives she touched. She reminded me of my own late mom, who passed just one year before Em did. Emilie and I never did have the chance to meet but thanks to her, I found a wonderful friend, Roxane.
It may seem strange that I'm so enthralled with a woman that I have not met, but if you could spare a few moments, please read some of Emilie's posts. I promise that you will find yourself enthralled with a woman who loved her family, her life, and her writing.
God Bless, dear Emilie. We all miss you and know that you are at peace. Could you give my Mom a giant hug for me? I will return the favor if I ever get the chance to meet all three of your "boys".
Sometimes, there are days when you can write and write and talk and talk, but nothing eases the pain and sometimes, nothing makes sense. Today is one of those days. My prayer for all of you is that you have something or someone to be grateful for. I know that I am blessed with many!
Be safe in your travels this week, and Merry Christmas!
Tomorrow will mark the death of our blogger friend, Emilie Lemmons. She passed away last Christmas Eve after a long battle with cancer. On earth she left her two young sons; Daniel and Benjamin, her husband Stephen, friends, admirers and faithful readers. Emilie had many gifts; first and foremost, her role as a mother and wife. She also had the gift of expression. I so wish that I could have just a tiny bit of her talent. But what's most important (as our fellow friend Roxane , stated much more eloquently than I can) is that her children will know their mother by the honest and true words that she wrote, and of course, Stephen's memories. Although I never did have the chance to meet Emilie, she was a true inspiration. She helped me find passion; in motherhood, in writing, and most of all, the faith that I needed to find so much when my beloved mom passed away. From what I gather, Emilie was peaceful and humble; so much so that she never knew how very many lives she touched. She reminded me of my own late mom, who passed just one year before Em did. Emilie and I never did have the chance to meet but thanks to her, I found a wonderful friend, Roxane.
It may seem strange that I'm so enthralled with a woman that I have not met, but if you could spare a few moments, please read some of Emilie's posts. I promise that you will find yourself enthralled with a woman who loved her family, her life, and her writing.
God Bless, dear Emilie. We all miss you and know that you are at peace. Could you give my Mom a giant hug for me? I will return the favor if I ever get the chance to meet all three of your "boys".
Sometimes, there are days when you can write and write and talk and talk, but nothing eases the pain and sometimes, nothing makes sense. Today is one of those days. My prayer for all of you is that you have something or someone to be grateful for. I know that I am blessed with many!
Be safe in your travels this week, and Merry Christmas!
Too Much Tragedy and TV
I'm on my way to pick up Murray early, but I had to post first.
First and foremost, I would like to request a prayer for babies and their loving parents.
A small bit about unemployment: it seems I've been bored for too long. My good friend informed me a few minutes ago that I need to set a schedule and stick to it. It works for him, so I'm going to attempt to act like I have to go to work tomorrow (plus I have an interview) and get on with my day. Instead of watching re-runs of "My Wife and Kids", "Full House" (which is completely cheesy and my guilty pleasure) and "Desperate Housewives" between loads of laundry, my plan is to get active again. When I'm not applying for jobs, I could volunteer or do something to help out a person or family in need. I want to get back to water aerobics as well.
This morning I woke to the sounds of one of the animals vomiting. Turned out to be Rudy, who has not been ill in his five years of existance. We're diligent about our vet check-ups, so I couldn't figure out what was happening. He was sick every half-hour from 2am to 6am. Every time I cleaned up the mess, he looked at me with those big brown eyes and you could just tell how embarrassed he felt. I called the emergency clinic at five am and after consultation they assured me that it was probably a diet issue. We are strict on their diet - 2 cups of Iams twice a day, so I surmised that he must have eaten something that wasn't dog food behind our backs. I held his food today until noon, and so far he hasn't been sick. I am so relived. I love our animals so very much, as you know.
I've discovered over the last year that there are so many hardships and devastation in the world. Our family has had several in the last month or more so today I pray that joy will come to those who have been afflicted by tragedy.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Peace to all.
Ree
P.S.Since I've written this post, I have set up a volunteer schedule that I'm quite thrilled about. More on this later.
First and foremost, I would like to request a prayer for babies and their loving parents.
A small bit about unemployment: it seems I've been bored for too long. My good friend informed me a few minutes ago that I need to set a schedule and stick to it. It works for him, so I'm going to attempt to act like I have to go to work tomorrow (plus I have an interview) and get on with my day. Instead of watching re-runs of "My Wife and Kids", "Full House" (which is completely cheesy and my guilty pleasure) and "Desperate Housewives" between loads of laundry, my plan is to get active again. When I'm not applying for jobs, I could volunteer or do something to help out a person or family in need. I want to get back to water aerobics as well.
This morning I woke to the sounds of one of the animals vomiting. Turned out to be Rudy, who has not been ill in his five years of existance. We're diligent about our vet check-ups, so I couldn't figure out what was happening. He was sick every half-hour from 2am to 6am. Every time I cleaned up the mess, he looked at me with those big brown eyes and you could just tell how embarrassed he felt. I called the emergency clinic at five am and after consultation they assured me that it was probably a diet issue. We are strict on their diet - 2 cups of Iams twice a day, so I surmised that he must have eaten something that wasn't dog food behind our backs. I held his food today until noon, and so far he hasn't been sick. I am so relived. I love our animals so very much, as you know.
I've discovered over the last year that there are so many hardships and devastation in the world. Our family has had several in the last month or more so today I pray that joy will come to those who have been afflicted by tragedy.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Peace to all.
Ree
P.S.Since I've written this post, I have set up a volunteer schedule that I'm quite thrilled about. More on this later.
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