tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109259592024-03-12T22:17:03.454-05:00the court of three sistersa glimpse into the journey of our familyAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.comBlogger430125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-79857872760113556572013-06-24T04:54:00.004-05:002013-06-24T04:54:53.191-05:00New homeAfter some work and wrangling, I'm back and blogging at <a href="http://ashleywbeck.com/" target="_blank">the court of two sister</a>s over here. Join me? Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-6905532178780429752013-04-05T20:57:00.001-05:002013-04-05T20:57:15.661-05:00A Visit From the ToothfairyLast Thursday night Charlotte suffered the wrath of the evil combination of tile floors, slick bottomed sandals, and running in the house. She slipped and slammed chin-and-mouth-first into a door frame, leaving quite a mark on her chin as well as a pretty serious injury to her mouth. That night her tooth seemed a little loose (thankfully a baby tooth) and the next morning it was apparent that a dentist would need to take a look at it. <br />
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<i>[Disclaimer: There is no blood in these pictures, but if you are very squeamish, click away now.]</i> <br />
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Exhibit A: </div>
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So the next morning was Good Friday and our regular dentist's office was closed. I put out an APB on Facebook for any dentists and thankfully I have several friends who were willing to make phone calls and send texts to find us a great dentist who had office hours on Friday. Dr. Hunt got us in at 9:00 am and she put both Charlotte and her mom at ease. They took x-rays and showed me that the only damage was to the baby tooth and root and there doesn't appear to be any damage to her permanent tooth or the gum surrounding it. </div>
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While I was hoping and praying that they might be able to save her tooth, it wasn't possible. The nurse was great and she stayed with Charlotte and put on Wreck-it Ralph while we waited for the numbing medicine to start to work. Charlotte was a brave champ through it all. She didn't even whine when she was getting the shot in her gums. </div>
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watching the movie in the ceiling while she waited</div>
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checking out the dentist's tools</div>
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The tooth came out quickly and again, Charlotte was so brave and made it through with barely a tear. We were out of the office within about ten minutes, off to get a special morning ice cream treat. </div>
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This wasn't the smile I would have expected from my four year old on Easter Sunday, but I'm so thankful for a such a minor issue from what could have been much worse. </div>
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For Charlotte, the whole thing was well-worth it, the Toothfairy made her first visit to our house for someone other than Caroline on Thursday night. :) Even with her snaggletooth, she's my precious Charlotte-girl! </div>
Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-83790295413597516242013-03-18T10:00:00.002-05:002013-03-18T10:00:51.830-05:00What a waitress can teach a doctorA couple of weeks ago Jeff's finger was the unfortunate casualty of an encounter with his car door. That encounter resulted in lots of blood, an unplanned early morning jaunt to the ER, much pain and many stitches, and a broken finger. The next day we saw an orthopedic surgeon who informed us that Jeff would need surgery to repair his finger and prevent something disgustingly titled, "bone infection." So, we scheduled the surgery for the following Tuesday. We dutifully got the girls off to school that morning and went to the surgery center for the procedure that was "scheduled for 11:00," but of course they asked us to be there an hour early to check in and complete any paperwork, etc. <br />
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In hindsight, I'm amused by the "be there an hour early" requirement. <br />
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As we waited, and waited, and waited, it became apparent that surgery would not begin at 11:00. Or 12:00. When we were called back to pre-op at 12:45, I was hopeful that maybe we'd be getting closer to actually having the surgery. The nurses took care of all of the blood work setting up an IV, and taking his vitals in about 15 minutes. So we settled in to watch the Karate Kid while we waited. Another hour passed and still no sign that surgery was coming anytime soon. Jeff was resting, in an out of sleep, and I was just growing increasingly aggravated At this point the nurses even stopped checking in on us. <br />
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Finally at about 2:30 I went to talk to the nurse on duty. There was basically no one else even around. Though I knew the whole situation was not her fault, she heard an earful. She apologized profusely and with lots of "yes, ma'am's" she called the OR to check on the doctor's status. About 15 minutes later the doctor's OR nurse came in and she had to hear it from me as well. I wasn't surprised, but the doctor didn't come back to talk to us before surgery, I'm sure he'd been duly warned that there was an angry redhead in pre-op 1. <br />
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So here's my point: I completely understand that doctors are incredibly busy and the unexpected often occurs in the medical field I have the utmost respect for the burden doctors carry - trying to juggle many patients, their families, the things they've scheduled and the emergencies that arise. I cannot, however, excuse the complete disregard for the waiting that patients and families have to endure with no explanation for what's going on or when we might expect to actually see the doctor or have the surgery we were "scheduled" for four hours earlier. <br />
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Lie to me. Tell me there was a massive trauma and the doctor has been called to emergency surgery at another hospital. Don't let us sit watching Karate Kid (and the first forty-five minutes of Karate Kid 2) with zero communication about our situation. It's inconsiderate and disrespectful. <br />
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I was a waitress in college for a couple of years. One of the worst parts about being a waitress was having to apologize for food that was wrong or late. When a table had been waiting for their food for an inordinate amount of time, I wanted to avoid them. I didn't want to have to apologize for the kitchen and fill drinks and hear complaints. But I can say that the experience of being in the shoes of the table sitting there waiting for their food with no waiter in sight made me do the uncomfortable and put myself into the discomfort. People are better when we know what to expect. <br />
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Is it going to be another 15 minutes? Tell me. <br />
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Is it going to be another two hours? Just tell me. <br />
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I may be unhappy, disappointed, angry even. But most of the time, we will endure it if we know what to expect. <br />
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[stepping of soapbox]<br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-73342161716864467982012-12-28T13:24:00.002-06:002012-12-28T13:24:46.211-06:00Believe We had a great Christmas. We got to spend time with family, visit Santa Claus, take some time to relax, open presents, go to church, participate and watch a Live Nativity, have school parties, cook, bake, wrap presents . . .. I could go on, but I'm sure you'd all rather see it than read my words about t it all. <br />
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Here's a recap of the whirlwind of it all in photo and video<br />
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Visiting with Santa<br />
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Visiting the LSU Christmas Tree</div>
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The Live Nativity at church</div>
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Discovering all that Santa brought on Christmas morning (the girls asked for a Barbie Dream House, but Santa thought this dollhouse was a better investment :-) )</div>
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Friends, I hope each of you had a wonderful Christmas - enjoying the gift of family and the magic of believing Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-39351570384167497192012-12-28T12:06:00.000-06:002012-12-28T12:06:06.146-06:00When you least expect itI often find myself trying to force a memory - getting the girls to pose or pause doing something - and nine times out of ten, it just doesn't work. And other times I take a picture just on an impulse. These are some of those and I love how their personalities come through.<br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-239048898756210162012-12-06T21:57:00.002-06:002012-12-06T21:57:46.059-06:00fiveToday marks five years since we lost our baby Joshua. Marking this occasion five years out is awkward for me. In so many ways I've "moved forward" with life, but I'm deeply mindful of how this loss has shaped my life since. I cannot pretend to understand God's plan anymore today than I did on December 6, 2007, but I can say I trust Him now more than I think would be possible otherwise. <br />
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I've learned so much, most importantly about how I love others, and more accurately how I'm called to love others. I do not always succeed, but as I look at my Savior, I value being truly present with others, pressing in, asking hard questions, being willing to be uncomfortable for the sake of another, being willing to simply sit in pain or grief or difficult circumstances. Loving those God has given me with abandon. <br />
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As I look back on the very dark days early on and see the progression of how Light was steadily shining even in my darkness - I'm humbled and thankful. I don't know the whole story - but I'm so thankful for the parts that I'm given. <br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/21373030" target="_blank">None but Jesus. </a><br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-72912761666050579022012-12-01T20:03:00.001-06:002012-12-01T20:03:47.691-06:00the voiceEach of my girls has a love for music and singing - I suppose most kids do - and it is truly a joy to hear a little voice break into song spontaneously. <br />
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Tonight as I was putting Camille to bed, I asked her what she wanted to pray for, who she wanted to tell God thank you for and she broke out into "God is so Good." It was a precious moment, so I had to break the sacredness to run to get my phone to record her. She gave an encore of sorts and sang one more for good measure. <br />
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I had to share. This is what makes me get through days with fighting, whining, complaining, and general craziness. And yes, it is completely dark - I didn't want to further ruin the moment with a bright light in her eyes. Much love, friends. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6DhRPRlBZuI" width="420"></iframe>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-62941909568608904862012-11-15T21:22:00.002-06:002012-11-15T21:22:57.683-06:00And it's over . . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now that The Election is over, I feel like I can breathe again. The division and anger and insults coming from all sides really produced some anxiety and disillusionment for me. I felt like I couldn't write at all in the final weeks. I'm not sure of the reasons for that, I suppose the people-pleaser in me didn't want to inadvertently say anything one way or the other on all of the hoopla. I am glad that it's over - at least the campaign - and hopefully we can move forward and leave the griping and the gloating behind us. <br />
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The last few weeks in pictures from my little part of the world: <br />
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We've been trick-or-treating and dressing up. <br />
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We've been singing. And if you do nothing else, please watch this video. THE CUTENESS. It is almost too much.<br />
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We've been smiling. <br />
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We've been getting bunk beds and combining rooms. <br />
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We've been visiting with friends. <br />
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We've been reading bedtime stories.<br />
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And plenty more that I didn't capture on camera. <br />
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It's hard for me to believe that Thanksgiving is less than a week away. Our anniversary is ten days away. Charlotte will be four in two weeks. Okay, I'm stopping. <br />
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Much love! <br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-19541426772689309202012-10-17T06:05:00.000-05:002012-10-17T10:40:48.235-05:00Two princessesA couple of weekends ago Jeff, Caroline, Charlotte, and I went to the fundraiser for our bar association. It was a lot of fun for the adults and the kids. The girls spent most of their time on the dance floor and at one point we heard a woman announcing Caroline and Charlotte's names from stage as her "helpers" in the raffle announcements. We were tickled that they found a way to get onto that stage without any help from their parents. <br />
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-59576314990369591192012-10-15T05:16:00.000-05:002012-10-15T05:16:00.255-05:00Notes from Debbie DownerI might not have actually verbalized it in this way, but before December 3, 2007, in my type-A- tight- grip-on-it-all world, "trust" meant it was going to happen the way I thought it was going to happen, the way I <i>planned</i> it all to happen. The sub-text to, "I trust that God will work through all of this" was "I trust that God's best interest for me will fall in line with 'my best interest' for me." That couldn't be further from the truth though, right? <br />
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Trust, whether in your husband, best friend, child, or God Himself is an assured reliance of that person's skill, ability, strength, character. Now of course the standards are different from person to person. I can trust Jeff with things I can't trust to Caroline. That doesn't make Caroline less trust-worthy. In the areas of her greatest ability or character, she is immensely trust-worthy. (<i>Disclaimer: I'm sure all of my girls will grow into greater and greater trust-worthiness, Caroline is the oldest, so I - for better or worse - lean on her more at this point</i>). <br />
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Isn't it difficult to trust God when you feel like he's abandoned you? And that's an understatement of a question if there was one. The question life throws at us is: Will we interpret God through our circumstances or will we believe that He is who He says he is - even in the midst of Plan B. Even when I don't feel it, don't understand it, when I'm not in control? When someone who you trust lets you down, the result is - for me at least - pain married to anger. Side note: They do not make a good couple, IMO. <br />
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Several years ago, I read <a href="http://www.mytinykingdom.com/2005/12/13/i-think-im-there/" target="_blank">this blog post</a> about the stages of grief and it resonated deeply with me. The whole "anger" part of the grief process had never resonated with me. I mean, I'm a girl from the South, a people-pleaser, a yes ma'am, I'm fine kind of person. Anger was foreign. [Inset snide smirk here]. Anne's words on finding anger in her grief: <br />
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"Right after my mother died, condolence cards came by the armful. Then fewer came each day. And then, about the time it was sinking in that my mom is really gone forever, they stopped completely.<br />
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That’s when I got mad. It was as if everyone else expected things to be back to normal just as I was figuring out that we have to create a new normal, and it may never feel right."<br />
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In truth, the voice she gave to anger wasn't foreign to me, just buried. So, when I read Anne's words, a light switch went off and I recalled how I silently seethed when people wanted me to act normal. Now, no one ever said it in those words. They only implied it with their words and invitations and . . .well, their silence. <br />
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A Christmas party? <i>Are you serious?</i> <br />
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How are you? <i>Do you really want to know? </i><br />
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Did you watch that show last night? <i>On TV? Does that matter in the scheme of the world? Um. No. </i><br />
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That inner dialog of sarcasm and cynicism and nihilism (and probably some other -isms I can't come up with right now) was mis-placed anger at people doing their best to navigate my grief. People I trusted - and perhaps most acutely - the God I trusted, had not lived up to the expectations I dreamed up in my head. That false definition of trust was shattered over the course of minutes, hours, days, and weeks. Pain slowly and quietly married anger in my heart and mind and I didn't even know it. <br />
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After I read Anne's words, I went back to the stack of cards in that box in the closet and was reminded of the love people showered on us after our loss. People I had secretly harbored ill-feelings toward for not acknowledging it had actually sent flowers or notes . . . . in that fog and blur of the first few weeks, I just didn't remember it. <br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-33593191541856879172012-10-12T05:23:00.000-05:002012-10-12T05:23:01.029-05:00For your Friday: What I'm reading<b>On my Kindle: </b><br />
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<u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Call-It-Comeback-Coalition/dp/1433521695/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1350003868&sr=8-1&keywords=don%27t+call+it+a+comeback" target="_blank">Don't Call it a Comeback: The Old Faith for a New Day</a></u> - a collection of essays on evangelical faith. I may not agree with all that each contributor has to say, but it has been a great eye-opening<br />
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and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Les-Miserables-Annotated-ebook/dp/B005KKFG7M/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350006767&sr=1-2&keywords=les+miserables" target="_blank"><u>Les Miserables</u> </a>(gotta get ready for the movie)<br />
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<b>In an actual, paper book: </b><br />
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<u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mended-Pieces-Life-Made-Whole/dp/1433676605/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350007042&sr=1-1&keywords=mended" target="_blank">Mended</a></u> - a great devotional-style book to work through at whatever pace is right for you<br />
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<b>On the web:</b><br />
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<u><a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/i-love-the-bible?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RachelHeldEvans+%28Rachel+Held+Evans+-+Blog%29" target="_blank">I love the Bibl</a>e</u> by Rachel Held Evans. Refreshingly honest. <br />
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<u><a href="http://www.incourage.me/2012/10/when-people-are-hard-to-deal-with.html" target="_blank">Sandpaper People</a></u> by Robin Dance. This: "A rock will remain a regular ol’ rock unless and until it’s rubbed the right way. Different grinds of grit produce different results and all are necessary to produce a polished stone. Change doesn’t happen overnight; it comes in due time. Like rocks tumbled or rough wood sanded, a person changes over time when external forces rub them the right way." Hard. Truth. <br />
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<u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3KQgulBzh0" target="_blank">Crazy People in the South</a></u> - Designing Women. I love this show. I got caught up in the Designing Women channel cycle on You Tube when someone pointed me to this one. <br />
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<u><a href="http://bikbikroro.blogspot.com/2012/10/excursion.html" target="_blank">Excursion</a> </u>- Bik Bik and Ro Ro. A precious stop motion video. <br />
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<u><a href="http://shaungroves.com/2012/09/first-world-problems-are-real-problems/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+shaungrovesshlog+%28ShaunGroves.com%29" target="_blank">First World Problems are Real Problems</a></u> - Shaun Groves. If we are connected on Twitter or Facebook, you probably saw me link to this, but I had to mention it again. I really love it. It gives a great perspective on perspective. <br />
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<u><a href="http://therunamuck.com/2012/10/09/chained-by-the-father-metaphor-day-9/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheRunAMuck+%28TheRunaMuck%29" target="_blank">Chained to the Father Metaphor</a></u> - Amber Haines. This line got me, "I see now that idolatry even of a good father can twist the truth so that all chances of pleasing him are squashed. Idols lie."<br />
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<a href="http://twentytwowords.com/2012/10/10/cute-little-british-kid-sits-quietly-under-his-slightly-older-sisters-sage-teaching/" target="_blank">Cute British Kid Sits Under His Sister's Sage Teaching</a> - via 22 Words. Cute and funny. <br />
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<u><a href="http://ameliawalton.com/2012/10/05/lately/" target="_blank">Lately</a></u> by Amelia. Beautiful pictures and more beautiful words (as always). <br />
<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-91987853502263249002012-10-11T19:52:00.002-05:002012-10-11T19:52:13.010-05:00"I just want to be on stage!"When she was about four, Caroline came to my office one time and lamented that her dream was "just to be on stage!" My co-workers still laugh about the gusto with which she expressed that four year old desire. Thanks to her school, Caroline has realized that dream a few times now over her school years since kindergarten. <br />
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And today she continued reaching that dream when she had a mini-performance at school today. The kids were fabulous. I can't say enough how much I admire the teachers at Caroline's school for all they do. The kids love to perform and they direct that love and focus it into some really incredible talent. They sing, they dance, they act and they all look like they truly enjoy it. <br />
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The second grade performance today was "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" and Caroline was in a group of sheep performing circus-like tricks with the boy (yes, it was a spin on the old story). As always, Caroline ate it up. She loves being on stage, singing, dancing, performing in just about any way. Seeing her face light up is so satisfying for Jeff and for me as her parents. There is truly nothing like seeing your child immersed in something they love. I pray each of my girls finds something that brings them joy the way that performing brings 7 year old Caroline joy. <br />
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Here are a few pics of my little circus sheep:<br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-13459870307855727682012-10-03T10:05:00.000-05:002012-10-03T10:05:01.259-05:00in the mending (part 2)I hope it's not a bad thing that I'm continually linking to, quoting, or making reference to a host of writers and bloggers. If nothing else, it makes me feel slightly less odd to know that someone else's words are giving voice to something I'm feeling. <br />
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In this case, several months ago <a href="http://www.chattingatthesky.com/" target="_blank">Emily Freeman </a><a href="http://www.incourage.me/2012/03/when-being-authentic-means-shutting-your-mouth.html" target="_blank">wrote</a>: "Several years and several moves later, I had learned the fine art of becoming who everyone wanted me to be in order to be accepted. Not in the I’ll-jump-off-a-bridge-too kind of way, more in a I-don’t-rock-the-boat kind of a way. I watched people, learned what got on their nerves, learned what people liked and didn’t like. I wasn’t doing this on purpose. I just really wanted to have a lot of friends. I wanted to be seen as fun. I didn’t want to miss out on anything. Shy didn't seem okay."<br />
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Now, I don't think I'm shy - introverted, yes, but shy, no. But the part of her story that speaks of molding yourself into what you think others want you to be . . . . Yes, that. That resonates with me. And maybe with most of us? <br />
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Forgive my amateur psychologist analogy here, but it's almost Pavlovian. When we get a good response, a reward, a pat on the back because we fall in line or make only little waves and don't rock the boat, we habituate to that behavior. Is it innate to the human condition or is it my constitution that is more prone to that? <br />
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From taking the first appointment offered at a doctor's office even if it's not convenient for me - and how ridiculous is that when I type it out - to "just doing it myself", those are my grown up versions of getting a reward, no matter how small. Don't disappoint. Make it work. Do the right thing. <br />
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When we ruffle feathers or cause disturbance or somehow, someway stand out from the crowd, we don't get the same affirming response. I admire those who even at a young age do not let others' expectations of who they "should be" and what they "should do" snuff out the light that was born in them. And there is an extreme on the opposite end of the spectrum from where I normally stand - there are those that intentionally create chaos, or draw the spotlight to themselves. The ones I admire most are those are simply honest about who they are, their likes and dislikes, their passions, hopes, dreams, understandings, capabilities, and desires. Again, some people are born with it - and if I might wax prophetic, I believe my Charlotte is one of those. And I love her light. <br />
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That's the place I long to rest: knowing my Source, my Light, my Strength, my Hope. Not striving, not arranging; resting in the Way, the Truth, the Light in the way it was placed in me. <br />
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<i>This is my much-belated follow up to a <a href="http://angiesmithonline.com/2012/09/the-mender-and-a-great-opportunity/" target="_blank">writing prompt</a> from <a href="http://angiesmithonline.com/" target="_blank">Angie Smith</a> celebrating the release of her book,</i><u> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mended-Pieces-Life-Made-Whole/dp/1433676605/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1349276396&sr=8-1&keywords=mended" target="_blank">Mended</a></u><i>.</i><br />
<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-10148376713903826032012-09-14T11:25:00.002-05:002012-09-14T14:03:59.627-05:00For your Friday: What I'm reading and watchingWhat I'm reading:<br />
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I recently finished reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Happened-Sophie-Wilder-Christopher/dp/1935639315/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347638662&sr=8-1&keywords=what+happened+to+sophie+wilder">What Happened to Sophie Walker</a> and I really, really liked it. I'm actually re-reading it because I liked it so much.<br />
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<a href="http://www.chattingatthesky.com/2012/09/14/dear-me-a-letter-to-your-teenage-self-a-link-up/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ChattingAtTheSky+%28chatting+at+the+sky%29" target="_blank">Dear Me: a letter to your teenage self</a>, a series from Emily P. Freeman is great. I have read through a several of these and they've all been so personal, so true, great eye-opening reminders to me as a mother. And a former teenager. <br />
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I'm also reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mended-Pieces-Life-Made-Whole/dp/1433676605/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1347638957&sr=1-1&keywords=Mended" target="_blank">Mended</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/No-Other-gods-Confronting-Modern/dp/B00394DGVE/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1347639001&sr=1-1&keywords=No+other+gods" target="_blank">No Other gods</a>. I need a new fiction book to add to the mix. Anyone? <br />
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"You have to make mistakes to find out who you aren't. You take the action, and the insight follows: You don't think your way into becoming yourself." <a href="http://www.oprah.com/spirit/How-To-Find-Out-Who-You-Really-Are-by-Anne-Lamott/" target="_blank">Yes. </a><br />
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What I'm watching: <br />
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Drives Grandmas! This is a great light-hearted look at politics for your start to the weekend. <br />
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I talked to Jeff about this last night. The prevalence of the problem of bullying is so painful to me. I do not recall anything close to bullying at my high school - and maybe I'm wrong and it was there and I was just oblivious, but I remember some mild teasing in middle school and elementary school. None of it seemed to rise to the level of the stories that are increasingly common lately. It breaks my heart and I pray my girls are never on either end of this terrible trend. It is apparent to me that we all need to be hyper-vigilant about teaching our kids that your words matter and they can speak life into someone or speak hurt into them. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/UtvqlTyP5sY" width="560"></iframe>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-19273114388658400782012-09-06T12:25:00.000-05:002012-09-06T12:25:05.540-05:00Emanuel"This is Emanuel. He lives in South America." <div>
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And so began my introduction to <a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm" target="_blank">Compassion International</a> as a 6th grader sitting in Sunday School, meeting a child that our class would sponsor. Our task was to bring in a little money each week so that over the month we could collectively accumulate the $30 or so it would take to continue to sponsor this little boy. It made a 12 year old girl in Baton Rouge feel like she was part of something bigger. Something important. </div>
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We've all seen the commercials on TV. Pictures of starving children, foraging for food in a landfill, barely clothed, the American announcer appealing to our emotion and common sense. "All it takes is ", and you fill in the blank. A dollar a day, Two dollars a day. I've heard more than my share of cynicism about these programs. "That money doesn't really go to the kids they show on TV, you know that right?" "The CEO's of those 'charities' are getting a fat paycheck and the children are getting the crumbs of what you send." The tenor of all of the cynical commentary is the same; we don't know where the money is going and so you're not really helping the ones you think you're helping. </div>
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I hate to admit that I don't really remember what happened to Emanuel. I moved on to other Sunday School teachers, and honestly, I left Emanuel in that old classroom. In college I volunteered with the youth program at church and to my surprise, Compassion was still around. I'm not sure if it should have surprised me, like I said, I still saw all of the commercials about children starving in third world countries, but seeing the organization that started it all for me was inspiring and made me think. </div>
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It would be years before I actually committed to sponsor a child through Compassion. Was it the cynicism, the selfishness, or the laziness that kept me from it earlier? Probably all of the above and more. But even at the age of 12 when sponsoring a child on my own was no where near the realm of my imagination, my interest was piqued. Even before Compassion got my money, they had a bit of my heart. </div>
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So, what I'm asking you do to today is venture a bit of your heart and click on over<a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm" target="_blank"> here</a> to <a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm" target="_blank">Compassion's sponsorship page</a>. And pray. Not necessarily that God will lead YOU to sponsor one of them - but that would be wonderful - pray for them by name, for their families, teachers, pastors, friends. You may not be in a place where sponsoring one of these children is possible or a desire of yours right now - and there's no judgment here in that - but perhaps you could pray that someone else who is in the right place financially and spiritually would click on that page too. </div>
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Grace & peace.</div>
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PS: if you're interested in defeating a little of that cynicism about organizations like <a href="http://www.compassion.com/default.htm" target="_blank">Compassion,</a> <a href="http://www.compassion.com/about/financial.htm" target="_blank">here's their information</a> on how they spend the donated funds. </div>
Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-77861825786060029732012-09-04T22:24:00.000-05:002012-09-06T15:28:52.688-05:00in the mending<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I loved to run.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">But more than that, I loved people’s reaction when I won.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">And over the years, the Lord has taught me (Over and over. And then some more) that I need to stop running for the crowd. The applause is one thing, but truthfully, it’s not what pushes me. It’s the fear of disappointing anyone that haunts me. The feeling that I’m not enough, or that I’ve failed someone. It’s a miserable way to approach the race, let me tell you." </span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #0a1a22; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;">As I read <a href="http://angiesmithonline.com/2012/09/the-mender-and-a-great-opportunity/" target="_blank">those words</a> earlier this week, they struck me hard. They could have been my own words. Not the running part of course -- I don't know that anyone has ever cheered me on for my running prowess -- but doing something for the reaction it brought in others? Yes. Ma'am. That's a big part of my story and I'm only recently realizing how big a part it has been. People-pleasing, finding </span><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.98842430114746px;">your</span><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;"> worth in </span><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.98842430114746px;">achievement</span><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;">, placing </span><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.98842430114746px;">your</span><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;"> value in others' acceptance or approval is great, when you're great. When you're not great, however, it is -- as Angie says-- miserable. </span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;">It's all very American of me, though isn't it? Very modern feminist (not the angry bra-burning variety, but the intelligent and capable club of 20 and 30 something women, daughters of the bra-burners) of me, right? </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;">While those are true, it's also part of the genetic make-up of who I am. Passed on to me much like my red hair, fair skin, and baby-birthing hips, or my strong-willed nature, love of laughter, and disdain for slow-walkers. You can't see the do-it-myself gene in my mom just by looking at her, but as sure as I sit here, she got it honestly from her own mother. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;">The problem is that the do-it-myself, try harder, getting it done gene is actually evidence of mistrust and conceit. I don't say those things to disparage my mom or grandmother; some things are really a product of necessity of the fallen world in which we live. When you step back from it and ask the "why" and search for an earnest answer, it's unavoidable - for me at least. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15.277776718139648px; line-height: 19.999998092651367px;">The do-it-myself gene is exhibit A in the case that I do much of what I do for approval and recognition and acceptance. The thinking goes something like this: If I do it, I'll do it right, and then people will know I did it - not anyone else. I don't want anyone else to screw this up. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">All of this works nicely when you are able to live under the illusion that you are in control and the world in working your favor. Misery and self-hated ensue when that illusion comes crashing down in a heap. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">And now to the point, where is the mending? How has God been working on me in this area? He's brought the oh-so-basic and yet so much bigger than my mind can comprehend Truth of Grace </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Grace says that neither my failures - nor my successes -- define me, my Savior defines me. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Grace says that I am not good enough, but He is.</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Grace says that I don't have to try harder, He's accomplished all that matters.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Grace says that I don't have to keep up appearances, He's promised that I will not be accepted by the world if I choose to follow Him. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Grace says that I do not have to strive to find hope in myself or in this world, but I can rest in the Extravagant Truth that Christ in me is the Hope of Glory. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">And so the story is too long already - and not long enough. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">To be continued . . .</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="color: #0a1a22;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">-----------------</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0a1a22; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">This post is written in celebration of my friend Angie Smith's book </span><em style="color: #0a1a22; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Mended</em><span style="color: #0a1a22; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> releasing. I've only just started to read it; and it will be one I have to read through slowly and often. :-) I already highly recommend it though and it can be purchased </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mended-angie-smith/1111318078" rel="nofollow" style="color: #8bb0b8; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #0a1a22; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> or </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mended-Pieces-Life-Made-Whole/dp/1433676605" rel="nofollow" style="color: #8bb0b8; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #0a1a22; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">.</span></span></div>
Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-37060618824573768672012-08-27T17:05:00.000-05:002012-08-27T18:41:55.486-05:00Back in the SaddleForgive the little break. I'm not sure how ten weeks have passed without me updating all 13 of you on what the Beck girls have been up to! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j8PEwWCrjiM/UDu0I-h2kdI/AAAAAAAAEt0/pF1BogrGgrw/s1600/172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j8PEwWCrjiM/UDu0I-h2kdI/AAAAAAAAEt0/pF1BogrGgrw/s320/172.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0J4bthpTxE/UDu0JlAojcI/AAAAAAAAEt8/-APznR1EuSs/s1600/174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0J4bthpTxE/UDu0JlAojcI/AAAAAAAAEt8/-APznR1EuSs/s320/174.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
In short, we spent time at the pool and swam, swam, and swam some more. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ydnA0e782Q/UDupS4qc1gI/AAAAAAAAErY/2EATsZgl2UE/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ydnA0e782Q/UDupS4qc1gI/AAAAAAAAErY/2EATsZgl2UE/s320/027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aDX4E3aoQk4/UDupSCYKSfI/AAAAAAAAErQ/LE6t0JJqsao/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aDX4E3aoQk4/UDupSCYKSfI/AAAAAAAAErQ/LE6t0JJqsao/s320/023.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The girls and I went to Nashville where we enjoyed some of my favorite people in this world. <br />
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We went to the beach. and laughed, ate, swam, played in sand, and mopped up every moment of being with my family. <br />
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</div>We enjoyed the perks of summer - watching movies on weeknights, celebrating Independence Day with our own little fireworks tradition, having Caroline in day camps and living up the no-homework nights while they lasted. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mr4avp8X5Ps/UDupVwNTFmI/AAAAAAAAEr4/9N_jwwrFld0/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mr4avp8X5Ps/UDupVwNTFmI/AAAAAAAAEr4/9N_jwwrFld0/s320/050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GR16wym-Egc/UDupkmPBjqI/AAAAAAAAEtQ/0MGZAz85WlQ/s1600/162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GR16wym-Egc/UDupkmPBjqI/AAAAAAAAEtQ/0MGZAz85WlQ/s320/162.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>We sent Caroline off to second grade. SECOND GRADE!! How is this possible? I loved second grade and I'm praying Caroline has great memories from this year too. <br />
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We celebrated Caroline's seventh birthday. This girl exudes joy, doesn't she?<br />
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</div>We celebrated Camille's second birthday. I could seriously snuggle this <strike>baby</strike> little girl all day. <br />
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</div>We celebrated Camille's baptism. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the video won't upload - stay tuned. </div><br />
So, here's the getting back in the saddle again. <br />
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-72098959598922819722012-06-06T22:14:00.002-05:002012-06-06T22:14:35.210-05:00Goin' RetroWhen we were at Target last week, Caroline picked out a new dress and Camille picked out an outfit -- okay, I picked out the outfit, but she gave it her nod of approval when I asked if she liked it. After we got home, I realized that we had unwittingly bought a dress for my oldest that could have come straight out of the 60's and a romper for my youngest that could have come straight out of the 80's. Please note, I did not leave Charlotte out; she got the same outfit as Camille, but by the time we got home, she decided she didn't like it anymore. I can't blame her, I bought a dress that same trip and that dress is in the bag with Charlotte's romper waiting for the return to Target trip. <div>
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<br /></div>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-67824946663471599452012-06-02T06:03:00.002-05:002012-06-02T06:03:13.267-05:00the princessWhile Caroline loves to dress up and loves nothing more than an afternoon of pretending to be a princess, when Charlotte puts on a dress-up gown, in her three year old mind, she is a princess. So it came as no surprise last week when Charlotte wanted to wear her "wedding gown" and ruby slippers to a little informal performance at her school. And yes, she was the only one not in her regular school clothes. I love that about her. <br />
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<br /></div>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-60148007281042646592012-05-30T05:54:00.000-05:002012-05-30T05:56:28.574-05:00Swimmers take your mark . . .We've spent at least one hour every day since May 15th at the pool. Caroline has swim team every evening and the little girls are both old enough now to enjoy spending an hour or so in the baby pool. <br />
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I'm so proud of Caroline's enthusiasm and hard work when it comes to most things she tries; and she really displays those qualities beautifully during swim season. She is excited about practice, and always works really hard to improve her skills. Last season she never felt comfortable enough with backstroke to swim that stroke the length of pool alone. But on her first try at it all alone this year, she did fantastic. <br />
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And our Charlotte? Well, she is slightly more timid than Caroline when it comes to trying new things, but when she does try something, she tries it with a gusto that is really inspiring. She epitomizes the go big or go home mantra. The first couple of weeks we were going to the pool, she had no interest in getting her head wet. She was happy playing and maybe blowing bubbles under the water, but she was not about to go under the water willingly. That all changed two days ago. She asked me for her goggles and said that she needed them because she was going under water. I complied and put her goggles on, fully expecting her to maybe put her face in the water for a moment and come up in horror. I was so wrong. She went at it full force and tells us now that she doesn't need swim lessons. We'll be keeping a VERY close eye on our no-longer-cautiously-fearful girl. :-)<br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-50710327926196645612012-05-26T21:16:00.001-05:002012-05-26T21:17:23.612-05:00the danceI'm standing in the kitchen cooking dinner when two chubby hands grab the back of my leg. <br />
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"Hodeme," she says. <br />
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I have the music on and when I pick her up, I whisper in her ear, "Oh, do you want to dance with Mama?" <br />
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"Shesch," is the reply, "shesch, shesch!" <br />
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I start to dance with her, her full cheeks covered in graham cracker remnants. Golden curls resting on my shoulder. She raises her head and a smile spreads across her face, revealing that mouth full of tiny, perfect white teeth. More quickly than it began, it ends with her cries, "No dance. Moak. Moak!" <br />
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I relent. "Okay, okay, I'll get you milk." <br />
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"And appu," she says. <br />
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"And applesauce? Yuck. I'm not sure about that, Camille." <br />
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"No. appu! Mama, appu, appu!" <br />
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As I open the fridge, she points to the "other applesauce" -- or as you might know it, yogurt. <br />
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"And hodeme mama. Hodeme Mama." <br />
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--Camille 21 monthsAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-31373395769018029562012-05-25T06:20:00.000-05:002012-05-25T06:20:08.981-05:00For your Friday: What I'm readingI finished a book last week, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Whispers-Bayou-Mindy-Starns-Clark/dp/B001O9CDAQ/ref=sr_1_13?ie=UTF8&qid=1337890588&sr=8-13" target="_blank"><u>Whispers of the Bayou</u> </a>by Mindy Starns Clark. It was pretty good, an easy read, and set in Louisiana. The author is a Christian author, so she weaves little tidbits of evangelicalism throughout the book. In the beginning, it's pretty much unnoticeable, but in the very end, it started to take a bigger part in the story line. I don't normally mind that kind of thing, but in the context of the story, it started to feel a little contrived. Overall, though, I liked the book a lot. it would be a good beach read.<br />
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I'm reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chasing-Mona-Lisa-A-Novel/dp/0800720466/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337890835&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Chasing Mona Lisa</a> by Tricia Goyer right now. I really like it. Although my book choices over the years could have told anyone else this, I never really pegged myself as a fan of historical fiction, but I've admitted that to myself during the reading of this book. It's set at the end of World War II in France and centers on a museum curator, her communist party-French Resistance leader boyfriend, and two OSS agents posing as Red Cross workers. The group works to thwart a Nazi plot to steal the Mona Lisa. Each has his or her own reasons for doing so, and each has plans for the operation that he or she hasn't published the rest of the group. I've really enjoyed it so far. <br />
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I've also started and not finished several books. First, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Forgotten-God-Reversing-Tragic-Neglect/dp/1434767957/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337892008&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Forgotten God</a> by Francis Chan. It is really good, I've just needed some fiction to wind down at night. Second, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Grace-Good-Girl-Letting-Try-Hard/dp/0800719840/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337892089&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Grace for the Good Girl</a> by Emily Freeman. I love this book, and I think I'm going to have to start over with it. I've read and re-read several of the early chapters. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Million-Miles-Thousand-Years-Learned/dp/1400202981/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1337903365&sr=8-1" target="_blank">A Million Miles in a Thousand Years</a> by Donald Miller is one I started a while back and I stopped reading for a time. It is closer to a novel than the previous two I just listed, so when I'm done with <u>Mona Lisa</u>, I might had back to Miller's book. I have several other books that have been languishing on my Kindle; mostly books I picked up when they were on super-special sale for less than five dollars, or some of them were free. Amazon is tricky like that - they get me with $1.99 here and $4.99 there. I love my Kindle though, as I definitely read since I've had it. <br />
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On the web: <br />
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<a href="http://www.chattingatthesky.com/2012/05/24/one-thing-that-will-make-your-soul-explode/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ChattingAtTheSky+%28chatting+at+the+sky%29" target="_blank">This</a> is beautifully written and a thought-provoking read. Thank you <a href="http://www.chattingatthesky.com/" target="_blank">Emily Freeman</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://sarahbessey.com/in-which-i-think-we-all-remember/" target="_blank">This</a> is breath-taking. My soul was saying, "Yes! Yes!" as I read it. Thank you <a href="http://sarahbessey.com/meet-sarah/" target="_blank">Sarah Bessey</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://dooce.com/2012/05/24/i-also-despise-whistlers" target="_blank">This</a> is funny. And true. ". . .because no judge on earth is going to side with a whistler." Yes indeed. Thank you <a href="http://dooce.com/" target="_blank">Heather Armstrong</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://www.ragamuffinsoul.com/2012/05/sixprayers/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RagamuffinSoul+%28Ragamuffin+Soul%29" target="_blank">This</a> is inspiring and encouraging. And humbling. Thank you <a href="http://www.ragamuffinsoul.com/" target="_blank">Carlos Whitaker</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://angiesmithonline.com/2012/05/my-kate-your-advice/" target="_blank">This</a> is refreshingly honest. We've dealt with some academic/learning issues this year in our family, and for the sake of privacy for my daughter, I won't say much more about it, but it is nice to see that the wrestling through the steps on that road is normal. Thank you <a href="http://angiesmithonline.com/" target="_blank">Angie Smith</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://ameliawalton.com/2012/05/21/lucky-number-7/" target="_blank">This</a> is a great love story. Without all the mushy details. This is my brother we're talking about. Not that he's not mushy; I just don't want to hear about it. Thank you <a href="http://ameliawalton.com/" target="_blank">Amelia</a>. And FYI, kids get in on this girl's writing so that you can say you knew her way back when. <br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-30241530995649956542012-05-24T17:35:00.000-05:002012-05-24T17:35:00.205-05:00Stuff my three year old saysOn Tuesday my ride home with Charlotte and Camille after work was either hysterical or completely unnerving. Maybe both. Charlotte talked literally non-stop. And what she said was sometimes completely contradictory to what she had said only the sentence before. It took my weight in patience not to laugh or cry. <br />
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Charlotte: Where are we going?<br />
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Me: We're going home, Charlotte. <br />
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Charlotte: But I don't want to go home!<br />
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Me: Well, we're going to the pool this afternoon after we get home; don't you want to go to the pool?<br />
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Charlotte: But not home, right?<br />
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Me: Um. Well, yes, we have to go get your bathing suit on and pick up Caroline for swim team practice.<br />
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Charlotte: But I don't want to go home!<br />
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Me: Okay, Charlotte, I've heard you. <br />
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Charlotte: I am not a fast runner, you know. I am not a good runner. <br />
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Me: Why do you say that?<br />
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Charlotte: Because when I play with Nicholas I get too tired. I'm not going to play with Nicholas anymore. I didn't play with Nicholas today. I played with Kate Kate and . . . .Kate Kate and . . . .Kate Kate and . . . Kate Kate and . . ..Kate Kate and . . . I can't remember. <br />
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Me: Oh, that's good. What did y'all play?<br />
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Charlotte: Kate Kate and . . .Kate Kate and . . . Kate Kate and Noella! <br />
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Me: Oh, good, you remembered. What did y'all play?<br />
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Charlotte: Me have a boo-boo. Right here (points to wrist). Oww! Owww! OWWWWWW! Oh this hurts!<br />
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<i>fake crying</i><br />
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Me: I'm sorry you're hurt, what happened?<br />
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Charlotte: I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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Me: Charlotte, stop yelling. <i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>silence</i><br />
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Charlotte: When are we going to be home!!! I'm ready to be home! I don't want to be in this car anymore! <br />
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Me: Okay, well we're almost home. Do you want to listen to some music?<br />
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Charlotte: Yes. Taylor Swift. The first one. <br />
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<i>music turns on</i><br />
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Charlotte: Turn this up, please. I can't hear it. <br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>music turns up</i><br />
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Charlotte: Thank you. Now Mama, [unintelligible because she is speaking quietly and the music is loud].<br />
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Me: Charlotte, speak up please or I have to turn the music off, I can't hear you very well. <br />
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Charlotte: Turn this mugik off! I don't want any musgik! <br />
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Me: Charlotte, stop talking to me like that. You have to ask me nicely. <br />
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Charlotte: And I. DON'T. WANT. TO. GO. HOME. Wait, did I miss the horses? I want to go back and see the horses! Hey! Look, there are the cows! Hey cows! Hey cows! What are you doing cows? Eating your dinner? Bye cows, bye cows! <br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>silence for about 30 seconds</i><br />
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Charlotte: Hey Camille, do you want to go home? <br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>no response.</i><br />
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Charlotte: Hey Camille! Hey Camille!! <br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>no response</i><br />
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Me: Charlotte, she's listening to you, just talk to her.<br />
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Charlotte: No. She is not being nice to me. She is not saying, "Yes, Charlotte." That hurts my feelings. This is all hurting my feelings. And my wrist hurts! <br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Crying</i><br />
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Me: Okay, well you need to be nice to Camille too. She doesn't' like being yelled at and neither do you. We're almost home. Let's see if we can get home without y'all having a breakdown. We'll be home in about two minutes. <br />
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Charlotte: Home! I want a snack at home! Can I have fruit snacks at home? <br />
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Me: Sure, you can have some fruit snacks at home. <br />
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Charlotte: Oh, Mama! I love you Mama. You are the best Mama. I love you so much. <br />
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Me: I love you too Charlotte. <br />
<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-40092525590506557902012-05-17T22:16:00.001-05:002012-05-17T22:16:53.077-05:00Hey there!Now that school is almost over and summer has officially arrived -- or maybe unofficially arrived-- in Baton Rouge, here's an update for all six of you sitting on the edge of your seats. <br />
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Where have we been? What have been up to? <br />
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Wrestling alligators<br />
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Going to art shows<br />
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Eating breakfast outside<br />
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Watching movies in tents<br />
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Stylin'<br />
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Looking for squirrels<br />
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And so much more that I never pulled the camera out to capture. <br />
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Good night, friends!<br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10925959.post-60621495778839382452012-05-03T17:31:00.000-05:002012-05-03T17:31:27.300-05:00Pure heartThe first time I saw Caroline do this, it brought tears to my eyes. It was so touching for a reason I couldn't quite articulate, but some things speak to your heart and not your head. Jeff had the same reaction when she did it for him; he said, "Wow, that almost made me cry." <br />
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Here's our precious girl singing and signing to a song she learned in Sunday School. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4hLiRMHPIYw" width="560"></iframe>
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"But Jesus called the children to him and said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:16-17Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268361899632016296noreply@blogger.com2