<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:09:08.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Literature Lover</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>175</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-6541627957378723408</id><published>2008-07-22T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T07:34:16.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Bliss</title><content type='html'>I cannot even begin to describe my emotions right now but they are vicariously close to bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received a letter yesterday from Highlights Magazine for Children accepting one of my stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been spontaniously erupting into squeals, songs or cheers ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a small step but it's a milestone marker for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-6541627957378723408?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/6541627957378723408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=6541627957378723408' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/6541627957378723408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/6541627957378723408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/07/in-bliss.html' title='In Bliss'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-3959075240104471702</id><published>2008-07-16T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T10:53:38.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Over the Top</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My son says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;AZKABAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he means to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ALASKA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that mean our family is a bit too "Potterized"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Please say no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-3959075240104471702?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/3959075240104471702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=3959075240104471702' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3959075240104471702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3959075240104471702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/07/over-top.html' title='Over the Top'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-3025340692676048679</id><published>2008-04-09T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T08:33:14.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Honorable Mention #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Well, I got a call back on my Library Adult Writing Contest submission.  Remember the one that was giving me fits?  Here's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;the phone call:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt;  Mrs. X, you won Honorable Mention #3 for the Library Adult Writing Contest in the Personal Essay category!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Oh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt;  Honorable Mention is good.  There were a lot of entries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  Great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt; We will be having a reception to honor the winners, did you get the post card?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  Yes--um, did you say Honorable Mention #3?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt;  Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; (Huh?)  What exactly does that mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt;  There is a first and second place; then we number place the Honorable Mentions and you are #3.  It is still a great honor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; (You've said that twice and I'm beginning to wonder...)  Yes, well, I wasn't trying to say it wasn't; I just didn't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt;  (Sweetly)  I've been writing for a long time and I've never won anything.  So, once again, congratulations!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  (That was nice)  Thank you.  Good-bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, levels in Honorable Mention--who would have thought it?  Oh, well...I'll take it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-3025340692676048679?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/3025340692676048679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=3025340692676048679' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3025340692676048679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3025340692676048679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/04/honorable-mention-3.html' title='Honorable Mention #3'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-3896825597597274453</id><published>2008-02-14T08:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T09:02:51.431-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Valentine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Okay, my sweetheart isn't lost, in fact, he's working right now.  But I had to use the title because in spite of Valentine's day we are having the LOST party tonight.  Or maybe it's to SPITE Valentine's day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love all things romantic, don't get me wrong.  I'm a girlie girl when it comes to that.  I love flowers; I love beautiful cards with more beautiful words in them; and I adore chocolate. BUT, I hate the expectation to do it on a certain day and how it makes people feel left out.  Yuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday while I was waiting to pick up my teenage daughter, I saw girls walking out of the school building holding carnations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cringed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did my daughter feel alone today because no one gave her one?  I suddenly had the urge to rush in and buy all the flowers to stop the madness. I spotted her walking towards me with her golden hair flipping in the wind and a red carnation in her hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today she took money to buy flowers for her friends who may not get one.  Now THAT is a sweet heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For anyone that's feeling LOST on Valentine's day, come on over.  We can eat heart-shaped pizzas together and laugh at stupid consumerism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-3896825597597274453?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/3896825597597274453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=3896825597597274453' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3896825597597274453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3896825597597274453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/02/lost-valentine.html' title='Lost Valentine'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-4708257593071690176</id><published>2008-02-12T06:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T09:04:01.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Warmth On A Cold Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Remember when you were thirteen and your Mom was an idiot?  Well, now &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; that Mom.  And while I embrace my idiocy with open arms like paying for fast food with a baggy full of quarters or singing Disney songs at the top of my lungs in the house, car and perhaps it's even escaped my lips in a store or two; I still want to believe I'm a pretty cool Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now sure, being the Mother of a newly turned thirteen year old, definitely has its share of battle scars from wars fought over the normal (and sometimes not so normal) teenage struggles.  But this morning as my daughter exited the car with fellow students swarming around her, she called out loudly, "I love you, Mom."  The door slammed shut as she strolled off to the school building.  And although it was crazy cold at 7:34a.m., I suddenly felt warm--and fuzzy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-4708257593071690176?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/4708257593071690176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=4708257593071690176' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/4708257593071690176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/4708257593071690176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/02/warmth-on-cold-day.html' title='Warmth On A Cold Day'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-8629929264394216646</id><published>2008-01-31T20:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T20:52:09.987-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tonight was the premiere of Lost.  Weirdly enough, I wasn't overly anticipating it throughout the day.  But I was glad when it was time to start and the Lost Clubbers arrived.  My excitement rose as the opening credits began but the episode didn't move my world, so to speak.  It probably didn't help that I read rave reviews about it beforehand, so my hopes were high--a bit too high.  Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A neighbor lady stopped by before it began needing to borrow something and asked if it was someone's birthday.  I explained that we were watching the show Lost together.  She exclaimed that she loved Lost (Who couldn't?  Besides you, Kyle) so I invited her to stay.  She didn't take me up on my offer.  Of course, we might have scared her with our over-enthusiastic enthusiasm.  But it just goes to show you never know who the Lost are around you. Wink.  Okay, it's a lousy pun.  But I'm compelled to make them with a name like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-8629929264394216646?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/8629929264394216646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=8629929264394216646' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8629929264394216646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8629929264394216646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/01/lost-again.html' title='Lost Again'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-7865293364234849569</id><published>2008-01-29T18:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T19:13:03.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Library Contest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The Library is having a fiction contest and I'm having a fit deciding what story to turn in.  I believe I have the perfect one and at the end of the day I edit it and think, "This!  This is beautiful".  Then I wipe a lonely tear from my eye and go to bed happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning I wake up to re-read my amazing masterpiece only to find that through the night some elf broke into my computer to demolish it because now it's crap!  So I start over again, or scratch that story altogether, and hunt through my neatly arranged files attempting to find the next available contestant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it.  This!  This is the one.  And once more, I go to sleep happy. But in the morning that nasty little elf has done it again and I'm completely mortified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've decided to deliver my next piece to the library in the evening before it can be destroyed - that'll show the little elffing thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-7865293364234849569?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/7865293364234849569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=7865293364234849569' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/7865293364234849569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/7865293364234849569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/01/library-contest.html' title='Library Contest'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-6549290635962633489</id><published>2008-01-25T22:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T23:49:33.171-08:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Ways to Avoid the Minister's Wife Stereotype</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;1.        Wear your fluffy Sponge-Bob slippers to church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;2.        Make sure your eye make-up matches Avril Lavigne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;3.        When it's time for prayer at the Ladies Tea, stare fixedly at the ceiling as if you're worried it's growing asbestos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;4.        Put a temporary tattoo in an obvious place, such as--your forehead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;5.        Keep a Harry Potter book under your arm at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;6.        When someone corners you for advice, wrinkle your forehead and say, "Huh?" with the most hick-like accent you can muster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;7.        If the Kitchen Ladies ask you to help serve dinner, scratch your crotch ferociously then ask where you should start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;8.      When parishioners call to get a phone number on what they presume to be the Pastor's Wife Hotline, give them the number to the local prison instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;9.       Leave your kids in the church office with the staff while you go to a matinee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;10.    If the elders question why you weren't in church on Sunday, explain that you overslept because you were ministering to your husband on Saturday night then give a big wink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-6549290635962633489?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/6549290635962633489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=6549290635962633489' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/6549290635962633489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/6549290635962633489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2008/01/10-ways-to-avoid-ministers-wife.html' title='10 Ways to Avoid the Minister&apos;s Wife Stereotype'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-3915904117737066228</id><published>2007-10-15T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T11:15:33.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chomping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The other day LM (Little Mister) and I were snuggling together.  I was chewing a piece of gum, which I am told I do very poorly, and he was watching me.  He started mimicking me with very large chomps and loud smacks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Me:    Are you making fun of me?&lt;br /&gt;    LM:    No. (continuing to chomp and smack)&lt;br /&gt;    Me:    I think you're making fun of me.&lt;br /&gt;    LM:    I'm not.  (chomp, smack)&lt;br /&gt;    Me:    (Raised eyebrows)&lt;br /&gt;    LM:    Little boys ALWAYS love to chomp with their Mommies.&lt;br /&gt;              (Insert very precious little smile here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help but laugh.  Charming, isn't he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-3915904117737066228?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/3915904117737066228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=3915904117737066228' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3915904117737066228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3915904117737066228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/10/chomping.html' title='Chomping'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-9124861811834410473</id><published>2007-10-11T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T11:44:08.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Much</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wow, I'm not sure how to update this long-forgotten blog.  I guess I'll try to give the cliff notes version. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moved in with Mother-in-law because she was too ill to care for herself.  Realized I couldn't homeschool and care for her, so we put our kids in school.  Completely emotional.  Basketcase on many days.  We lived there for two months.  Began to adjust.  Then felt a bit cramped.  Five people in two bedrooms.  MIL regained some mobility.  Not much privacy.  This weekend we moved back into our house.  Happy sigh.  I check in on MIL every day after taking kids to school.  The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we're actually talking about moving close to MIL so I am frantically trying to get rid of stuff and prepare our house for a possible sale.  Even thinking of moving is pretty hard at this point because I just got back into my cozy home.  But I feel like God is teaching me one, all-important lesson:  YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-9124861811834410473?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/9124861811834410473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=9124861811834410473' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/9124861811834410473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/9124861811834410473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/10/so-much.html' title='So Much'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-2806055055492085000</id><published>2007-08-06T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T20:52:40.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She Passed Me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's official. My eldest daughter, 12 1/2 years old, has now passed me in height. We discovered it on Sunday doing our usual ritual of "Am I taller than you?" measuring. She immediately shared it with everyone who would listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.  I guess I might as well succomb to it.  We're entering &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; stage now.  You know, the one where I need to let go when I want to clutch tighter.  Yeah, that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-2806055055492085000?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/2806055055492085000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=2806055055492085000' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/2806055055492085000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/2806055055492085000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/08/she-passed-me.html' title='She Passed Me!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-8056175283962048032</id><published>2007-08-02T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T08:55:23.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>She's back at the hospital.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-8056175283962048032?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/8056175283962048032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=8056175283962048032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8056175283962048032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8056175283962048032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/08/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-8186653191770960467</id><published>2007-08-01T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T18:19:12.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Argh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'm going to vent a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother-in-law has been to the hospital three times in the last four weeks. Two of them she had to stay for several days. Did they find out what was wrong? Well, they guessed at it. Today she was bad off, really bad. A nurse told me that we COULD have had her put in a Skills Unit after being dismissed from the hospital and she would have been able to stay there for up to six weeks-- paid in full. Round-the-clock care and therapy. But did anyone tell us this? No!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we call her doctor today to see if we can get her in it. No. She would have had to been admitted there from the hospital. REALLY?! Grrrrrrrr!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No worries. She's probably headed there again since no one will freaking help us!!!! I am so stomping mad right now that I want to cry. But that would not help squat. So I'm venting. I guess that doesn't really help either, but it feels good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-8186653191770960467?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/8186653191770960467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=8186653191770960467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8186653191770960467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8186653191770960467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/08/argh.html' title='Argh!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-759971642197407608</id><published>2007-07-24T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T19:53:30.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life  Ramblings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It's frustrating to me how I can let life zap me in the matter of a mili-second.  I can feel so high and the next moment, not.  Today is a "not" day.  My Mother-in-Law is quite elderly and has had some major health problems lately.  My husband and I have been passing each other coming and going to care for her.  I miss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a roller coaster.  I hate moods.  Wish I could just push the happy button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday night was a "high" for me because the new Harry Potter book came out.  I read the whole thing in 24 hours.  Loved it.  (No spoilers here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I woke up around 5:30 a.m. with a wonderful dream about my Grandpa.  He was making me laugh really hard; in fact, it woke me up. Then I felt that moment being sucked away as I remembered once again that he's gone.  Tears poured and I couldn't make them stop.  I haven't cried about that for months.  I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and started writing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing brings relief for me.  Wish I could write like J.K. Rowling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-759971642197407608?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/759971642197407608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=759971642197407608' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/759971642197407608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/759971642197407608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/07/life-ramblings.html' title='Life  Ramblings'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-5237834464087365634</id><published>2007-05-24T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T15:06:29.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Critique of LOST Season 3 Finale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT LIVED UP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those writers are amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "land of the LOST" club has been so much fun. Everyone screaming, laughing, or gasping at all the right moments. The commercials were great breaks for intriguing conversations. I don't think that any of our Lost club meetings ended before midnight. :) We just couldn't get enough of visiting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I invite you back to the "land of the LOST" club in January 2008.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to each of you who came, sporadically or religiously.  It was a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-5237834464087365634?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/5237834464087365634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=5237834464087365634' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/5237834464087365634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/5237834464087365634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/05/critique-of-lost-season-3-finale.html' title='Critique of LOST Season 3 Finale'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-4425840272942704417</id><published>2007-05-23T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T09:33:01.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chances</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month I did something that I've contemplated doing for three years.  I entered the &lt;a href="http://www.writersdigest.com"&gt;Writer's Digest&lt;/a&gt; competition.  I won't know the results until October.  Long wait.  I entered in the Personal Essay &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;category&lt;/span&gt; and the Poetry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;category&lt;/span&gt;.  After I sent them in, I felt nauseous.  I guess that's normal.  I probably wouldn't have found the courage to send off this year except that another friend was entering too.  It held me accountable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, only 36 more articles/stories to send off before my birthday deadline! :)  Not sure I'm going to make that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-4425840272942704417?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/4425840272942704417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=4425840272942704417' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/4425840272942704417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/4425840272942704417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/05/chances.html' title='Chances'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-1838608779038391210</id><published>2007-04-22T15:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T15:58:27.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Compartments</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;When I was young, I used to separate my food. I didn't want the peas to touch the mashed potatoes. I ate one little section at a time until I was finished with my meal. Nowadays, I could care less if it's all mushed up together, but I wonder if I started a pattern back then. It seems that in my life, I section off who I am and work with parts of myself one at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, it seems that if I'm doing good in the Wife department, then I may be doing bad in the Mom department. Or perhaps the Housekeeper me is keeping everything clean (which could only be a miracle) but Teacher me is struggling. I swear it seems that if one section is succeeding then inevitably another is failing. Why can't I get all those balls in the air and juggle them at once?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 21 Days are up on my screenplay deadline. I just cut eight pages. Ouch. I'm finished, sort of. Not sure if I ever truly FINISH a writing. It doesn't matter how many times I read it, I always change something. But maybe that's the process. Kind of like life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps all those compartmentalized moments are like scenes in my life play. I have to be willing to let myself have the ups and the downs to get through any Act of my life. Deep down I know what I must do. Congratulate myself for the balls in the air and forgive myself for the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-1838608779038391210?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/1838608779038391210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=1838608779038391210' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/1838608779038391210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/1838608779038391210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/04/compartments.html' title='Compartments'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-8973998431368598173</id><published>2007-04-19T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-19T08:11:06.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revisions, Revisions, Revisions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;She sits at the computer humped over her many words, 127 pages of words to be exact.  She burrows her brow in concentration as she attempts to revise more of her screenplay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                I love this scene!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                This is idiodic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                But we need this scene, otherwise they won't                 know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Cut it!  It's ------!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Well, that one part is a little slow.  I'll                 cut half the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Whatever.  It's never going anywhere anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                           OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                It doesn't matter if it goes anywhere;                        the point is that I'm doing it.  It's been                 fun. Don't be so mean!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                You call revising &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fun&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Well, it is work.  But it's nice to be on                     this end of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Could we get back to work here, my shoulder                 is aching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                As soon as I finish this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                You're writing a post about &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Well, yes.  It's all I can think of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            CRITIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                Lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            OPTIMISTIC ME&lt;br /&gt;                When you have an idea, let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Critic Me is finally silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-8973998431368598173?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/8973998431368598173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=8973998431368598173' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8973998431368598173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/8973998431368598173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/04/revisions-revisions-revisions.html' title='Revisions, Revisions, Revisions'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-7673597240168892965</id><published>2007-04-05T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T23:20:22.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Page 100</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am on page one hundred in my first attempt at a screenplay. For those who don't know, usually a screenplay is around 120 pages. Every page equates one minute of screentime, so 120 pages=120 minutes. I'm almost to my finish line. I feel like I have been eating, drinking and breathing this story. I'm a little obsessive about my stories sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being that this is only the "random" draft, since I'm attempting to write straight through without stopping, I still have a long way to go until I am completely finished. I look forward to my revision stage. I love being able to rework it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just wanted to keep you posted (since it also holds me accountable).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-7673597240168892965?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/7673597240168892965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=7673597240168892965' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/7673597240168892965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/7673597240168892965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/04/page-100.html' title='Page 100'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-3729420993137879938</id><published>2007-03-31T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T22:38:35.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Goes Up...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Deep black where&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No light glows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I feel lost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As one unaided.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My dark friend,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You greet me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Wish I could &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Let you go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Despise you, failure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Weary of struggle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Faced with illusions,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why want reality?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Long to veil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My relentless anguish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cannot mask it,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But I try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-3729420993137879938?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/3729420993137879938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=3729420993137879938' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3729420993137879938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/3729420993137879938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/03/what-goes-up.html' title='What Goes Up...'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-9208265266075799347</id><published>2007-03-28T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T09:13:54.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rejection Slip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might think, by my title, that this is a bad thing. But ironically, my first rejection slip has excited and inspired me. For whatever reason, I feel more like a writer because of it. My first thought was -- NEXT! I pulled out my card to see what my second magazine choice was for this article. I am going to send it off again. AND, I'm going to continue to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working on a screenplay at the moment. I know, I skip around so much. But, I've wanted to try my hand at this for awhile and I try to write where I'm interested. I figure, why fight it? The experience has been exhillarating, frustrating, exhausting, invigorating and most of all it has pushed me past myself. I made a commitment to write it in 21 days and I'm not stopping myself even if I hate parts of it. There will be time to go back and re-do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, my weight is slowly going down. I say slowly because it's only 1/2 a pound to 1 pound a week. But I'm just happy that it's going in the down direction. I saw a number this week that I've not seen for five years. I almost cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'll end my Pollyanna post. But I thought that while I was up, I might as well share my happiness. There will be plenty of dark days ahead, I'm sure. Ask me how it's going ten days into this screenplay. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-9208265266075799347?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/9208265266075799347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=9208265266075799347' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/9208265266075799347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/9208265266075799347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/03/rejection-slip.html' title='Rejection Slip'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-4013040022634791900</id><published>2007-03-14T15:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T15:59:56.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."&lt;/span&gt; John 1:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;That verse has always puzzled me and quite honestly, I never found much from it to extract. But this weekend I was reading a book that made this part of the Bible really stand out to me. The author talked in depth about God being the Word. In light of how much I love words, I can't believe that it never hit me like it did in that moment. He is creator, author, WORD. I absolutely love that. AND I especially love how everything He created began with a WORD.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;He gets me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I never understood how much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;(I know this sounds totally self-absorbed because many people write and love words, but I can't help it, it feels personal to me in a way it never has before.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-4013040022634791900?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/4013040022634791900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=4013040022634791900' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/4013040022634791900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/4013040022634791900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/03/word.html' title='The Word'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-5183827685636174289</id><published>2007-03-08T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T18:50:57.269-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LOST News Report</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Last night the show Lost redeemed itself in an amazing turn of pace.  The founder of the "land of the LOST" club said,"I was able to sleep well last night knowing the writers have returned to their original passion and I look forward to the unraveling of the mysteries in weeks to come." --LITERATURE LOVER'S Journal, March 8, 2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-5183827685636174289?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/5183827685636174289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=5183827685636174289' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/5183827685636174289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/5183827685636174289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/03/lost-news-report.html' title='LOST News Report'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-5655752356031266806</id><published>2007-03-01T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T20:08:21.898-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beginning of March</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I can't believe that it's already March! Man, this year is flying by. Okay, I need to retract my goals for writing. I tried to get four articles out in one week and found that I was WAY over my head. I think I'll go back to my original goal and be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you holding me accountable, I will update you on my new year's resolutions. #1 - Had my physical and a scare about diabetes.  But everything finally checked out well.  I don't have diabetes.  I will consider this my wake-up call.  I have continued walking and eating more healthy.  #2 - I have been writing (almost) every day.  #3 - Sent articles off but need to continue this process.  #4 - Ironically, my fun time with the kids has centered around my excercise each day.  We've been walking/rollerblading/biking together and it's been a blast!  #5 - As far as losing weight, it is coming off slowly, too slowly for my taste.  But, I figure I didn't get overweight overnight, so I'm not going to lose it overnight either.  Bummer. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say that again, my LOST show let me down.  Whaaa!  I look forward to this show every week and up until the last few weeks, I have been happy with it.  But, if something doesn't turn around quick, I am going to have tomatoes ready to throw at the television for the next "land of the LOST" party.  Grrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-5655752356031266806?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/5655752356031266806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=5655752356031266806' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/5655752356031266806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/5655752356031266806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/03/beginning-of-march.html' title='Beginning of March'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-117215513782095170</id><published>2007-02-22T06:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T06:39:58.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have A Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Okay, I have a confession to make that will shock some of you. Last night the LOST episode was lame. (Close your mouth) I know, I know, you can't believe that I'm saying that but I am. It was a letdown. Last week's episode - awesome. This week's - not! Come on, LOST writers, bring back some of that first season charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, that did not stop those of us watching it from having a great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-117215513782095170?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/117215513782095170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=117215513782095170' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117215513782095170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117215513782095170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-have-confession.html' title='I Have A Confession'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-117199895792215024</id><published>2007-02-20T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-20T11:15:57.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Submissions Sent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I mailed two magazine articles today.  Eeeeee!  I'm actually amazed that I've done it (it only took sixteen years).  Now, it will be months before I receive that rejection letter -er, I mean, contract letter. ;) But I am just excited that I've overcome my fear enough to send them off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My original goal was to send forty manuscripts off before my fortieth birthday.  Now I have a new goal (which hopefully isn't too high).  I want to send four a week - for ten weeks.  This will move me along much more quickly.  Perhaps I could even get something PUBLISHED before my birthday, but I shouldn't get ahead of myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-117199895792215024?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/117199895792215024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=117199895792215024' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117199895792215024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117199895792215024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/02/submissions-sent.html' title='Submissions Sent'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-117081958116802852</id><published>2007-02-06T19:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T19:42:36.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>land of the LOST</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I promised a little while back that when the television show, LOST, came back on the air, that I would host a LOST club. Well, I am keeping that promise. So, for those of you that know me and love the show LOST, you are welcome to come to my house Wednesday night at 9:00 (or a little before, because I probably won't get up to open the door for you if it is started - just kidding, sort of). You may stay afterwards for discussion if you like. We are calling the club, Land of the LOST. My husband named it and I'm kind of wondering if it's a slam. Anyhow...I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yes, I'm &lt;a href="http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/addicted-to-lost-i-might-as-well-face.html"&gt;addicted&lt;/a&gt;, tell me something I don't know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-117081958116802852?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/117081958116802852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=117081958116802852' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117081958116802852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117081958116802852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/02/land-of-lost.html' title='land of the LOST'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-117060748238132267</id><published>2007-02-04T08:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T08:59:57.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been awhile...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well, it's been awhile. I swear, I have great intentions. But then you can't really read them, huh? Lately I've been writing a lot (just not in the blogosphere).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I just say how much I love to write? Man! I love it. Stories pop in my head like a movie and sometimes I can hardly type fast enough to get them down. I told one friend about a story I'd been working on and she asked to see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ummm, no." After all, it's only a rough draft. I haven't even edited it. No one, outside of family, has ever read my stories. Articles yes, but not my babies, my stories. It's not finished. It's not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She persisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt fear take hold of me. What if she read it and thought it was completely corny? What if she hated it, but didn't want to hurt my feelings? She promised that she would be honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent her the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the entire next day on pins and needles. I asked myself why it mattered so much to me. After all, it's only one person's opinion. But there was that nagging fear that if she hated it, then what I've always feared inside would be true: I am not a writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I know that sounds silly because, if you write, you're a writer.  So maybe what I mean is that I would not be a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She called me late that afternoon.  She said, "I'm calling about your story.  Here is my humble opinion,"  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Humble opinion?  Oh no, she's trying to diminish her opinion because she hated it!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes?"  I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I loved it!  I only got halfway through and I can't wait to read the rest."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?!!! Oh my gosh, she read it and actually liked it! Yippee!!!!!! I cannot tell you how high that made me. I don't think there is a drug in the universe that could have given me that kind of upper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, does that mean that I am a great writer? No. But, the fact that there could be people out there who enjoy my stories, means that somehow in the world I am understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They get me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good to be got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-117060748238132267?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/117060748238132267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=117060748238132267' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117060748238132267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/117060748238132267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/02/its-been-awhile.html' title='It&apos;s been awhile...'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116888371409705621</id><published>2007-01-15T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T09:55:14.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Icy Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Since it sleeted for almost an entire weekend, we are covered in ice.  Our power did not go out, thank goodness!  Fortunately for me, I had just checked out from the library a book of the complete works of Jane Austin and have been deliciously savoring it to the dismay of my family.  For some reason they seem to think that I'm not as attentive when I have a good book in hand.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are wanting to go sledding today so we'll see. I'm not as excited about it because I HATE to be cold. L  However, my husband is off work today so he may take them.  Hmm, this may work to my advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone out of the house sledding.  Quiet enough to read Pride and Prejudice without interruptions. And cold enough for a hot cup of coffee.  THAT, my friends would be a perfect day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows though, I might weather the cold after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116888371409705621?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116888371409705621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116888371409705621' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116888371409705621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116888371409705621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/01/icy-days.html' title='Icy Days'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116810083012712357</id><published>2007-01-06T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T08:27:10.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm a little late, but better late than never, right? :)  So, New Year's resolutions?  Yes, I have them.  I'm not sure if that's good or not since they are usually so difficult to keep.  However, I love the fresh start.  There is something about a new beginning that always gives me hope.  The first day of every month, and the first day of every week are always inspiring.  It's not that I'm an optimist but I just need a lot of re-starts. L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year Resolution #1 - this year taking care of others includes taking care of me.  I know that sounds selfish.  But my reason is that I don't want anyone else getting the joy of raising my children.  I want to be around for a long time.  So, the first part of this is making appointments for physicals.  Second is to walk (which I've actually been doing, even though it is only in small increments).  Third, watch what I eat.  I'm beginning to see different ways that food affects me negatively so I'm trying to be careful with the sugar and caffine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year Resolution #2 - Write often.  I'm talking about articles or stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year Resolution #3 - Send the articles off!  This seems logical but is so hard to do.  They never seem ready enough.  So I'm going to give myself a certain amount of revisions, stop there and send it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year Resolution #4 - Make fun time with my children a part of every day.  By this I mean purposeful time.  We have fun throughout the day but they long for me to just play with them and often I feel I'm too busy.  So I'm trying to schedule a play time with each of them, even if it's short.  I'm realizing that life is short.  My oldest is turning 12 in a few days and it's gone so fast!  I don't want to look back with regret on not spending enough one-on-one with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year Resolution #5 - Lose weight.  I know that sounds so predictable. However, I have a marker birthday this year and I want to give myself a new body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how's that for setting myself up? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116810083012712357?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116810083012712357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116810083012712357' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116810083012712357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116810083012712357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2007/01/new-year.html' title='New Year!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116664700205574969</id><published>2006-12-20T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T12:36:42.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;There are those who seemingly host parties with their hands behind their back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not one of those organized, house-always-clean kind of women.  So when it comes to parties, I end up needing to clean a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;little&lt;/span&gt; bit more than a normal person. You know the famous dash and stash?  Not to mention the other things like: vacuum the mounting dog hair, put away piles of trash--ur, I mean--artwork, clear the clutter, re-organize the kids rooms and my favorite, move furniture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move furniture?  You ask.  Yes.  I say.  Because graphing out where the furniture should go and moving it is much more fun than actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cleaning&lt;/span&gt;.  Can anyone say, procrastination?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trouble with procrastination is that it puts you on a needless frantic schedule to get everything done which can often lead to your head popping off.  Or at least feeling as though it could.  Translation: Migraine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is that as much as it takes for someone as unorganized as me to put on a party, it is well worth the time.  I love the sound of the slow rise of voices as more and more friends enter the room.  We had about 45 people in our home (including the kiddos) tettering soup and goodies on their laps talking and laughing. &lt;br /&gt;And the great side effect is that my house will be clean for Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, mostly clean. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116664700205574969?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116664700205574969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116664700205574969' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116664700205574969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116664700205574969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-party.html' title='Christmas Party'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116586085912741265</id><published>2006-12-11T09:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T10:19:51.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Forest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am reading a book right now (well, one of many) called, &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Forest-Trees-Editors-Advice-Writers/dp/1573228575"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Forest for the Tree&lt;/span&gt;s&lt;/a&gt;, about writers and the struggles of writing from an editor's viewpoint. While I have only been published one measly time in a small publication, I still consider myself a writer. I figure if you write, then you're a writer. Writing is a passion of mine and though I don't necessarily keep up with writing this blog (hee-hee), I have a very thick file in my word processor of articles, chapters, poems, thoughts, greeting card ideas, outlines and the like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first started reading said book, I felt as if the author could see into my soul. It was freaky. Here are some of my favorite lines from the book:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know a lot of writers who beat themselves up on a regular basis, either for not writing or for not writing well enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The natural writer is the one who is always writing, if only in his head--sizing up a situation for material, collecting impressions. James Thurber confessed, "I never quite know when I'm not writing. Sometimes my wife comes up to me at a party and says, 'Dammit, Thurber, stop writing.' She usually catches me in the middle of a paragraph.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Writers love to worry.  By their very nature they are neurotic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See people?  I have an excuse. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116586085912741265?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116586085912741265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116586085912741265' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116586085912741265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116586085912741265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/12/forest.html' title='The Forest'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116460170851051396</id><published>2006-11-26T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T20:52:55.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have long been a lover of words. Even when I was very young I would try to invent new words in the hopes that they would one day end up in the dictionary. "Gont" was one of them. I have long forgotten what the meaning was but I recall the joy of creating words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the act of creating is the most significant part of writing or reading a passage. The joy of sharing in someone else's thoughts or their perspective in a story. Even more the excitement of pouring your own soul into a thought and letting another glimpse your heart through the window of words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As C.S. Lewis, one of my favorite authors, writes from his book, Prince Caspian:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I think I'll have to go right back to the beginning and tell you how Caspian grew up in his Uncle's court and how he comes to be on our side at all. But it'll be a long story."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "All the better," said Lucy.  "We love stories."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116460170851051396?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116460170851051396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116460170851051396' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116460170851051396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116460170851051396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/words.html' title='Words'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116412969570659490</id><published>2006-11-21T09:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T09:21:35.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Happy Birthday&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://youtube.com/v/DvDjYUlBtaQ"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://youtube.com/v/DvDjYUlBtaQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;Happy Birthday Sis!&lt;br /&gt;God knew what he was doing putting us in the womb together.  You're an incredible friend.  I can't imagine my life without you, after all, sharing CAN be fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Bro! (tomorrow)&lt;br /&gt;And what could I have done without a baby brother to kiss and boss around?  You keep me laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you both.  This song is for you. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116412969570659490?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116412969570659490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116412969570659490' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116412969570659490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116412969570659490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/happy-birthday-happy-birthday-sis-god.html' title=''/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116360484851053557</id><published>2006-11-15T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T07:47:37.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shall I Not Drink It?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When Peter sees that Judas has a whole army of people ready to take Jesus, he makes a sad attempt of fighting by cutting off the ear of the servant of the High Priest. Jesus puts the ear back on and heals the man.  Then he turns to Peter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But Jesus said to Peter, "Put your sword back into its sheath. Shall I not drink from the cup of suffering the Father has given me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;woj&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Wow. He had someone ready to fight to keep him from hurting and he stopped them. Then he even rebukes Peter with the fact that if God wants him to drink this cup of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;suffering&lt;/span&gt;, should he not do it?  I whine about the littlest thing. I've not been asked to die a horrible death (yet). But I fight and cry at each little suffering that is handed to me.  This morning as I read this, it humbled me and gave me courage.  I would like a heart that's ready to say, "Shall I not drink it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/woj&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116360484851053557?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116360484851053557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116360484851053557' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116360484851053557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116360484851053557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/shall-i-not-drink-it.html' title='Shall I Not Drink It?'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116337151039754079</id><published>2006-11-12T14:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T14:45:10.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sunday.  It only comes once a week but how much I love it!  I couldn't say that five years ago.  In fact, I dreaded church with a passion.  I had to push and prod my little ones to get ready.  Once I got to church, I would seeth and almost wretch during the sermon.  I was full of frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, it's different.  I wake my children up.  If they're still sleepy and slowly creeping out of bed, all I have to say is, "Today is Sunday".  Their eyes grow wide with excitement.  "It's Sunday?!"  They jump out of bed as if their life depended on it and frantically start getting ready.  Then they hurry me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it so different?  You might ask.  Oh, I could never name the many ways.  So I'll just name a few.  It's real.  People are truthful and gutwrenchingly open.  The pastors speak from the heart.  They don't preach AT you and they don't yell.  They simply share.  Everyone is welcome.  Really.  Not just in word.  I leave refreshed and ready to face my&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; week.  And, I can wear jeans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116337151039754079?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116337151039754079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116337151039754079' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116337151039754079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116337151039754079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/sunday.html' title='Sunday'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116300302532345641</id><published>2006-11-08T08:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T08:23:46.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Addicted To Lost&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://youtube.com/v/3eVU6h19pko"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://youtube.com/v/3eVU6h19pko" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;I might as well face it, I'm addicted.  I love this show.  Wednesday has turned into LOSTday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116300302532345641?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116300302532345641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116300302532345641' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116300302532345641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116300302532345641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/addicted-to-lost-i-might-as-well-face.html' title=''/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116287267928715245</id><published>2006-11-06T19:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T20:11:19.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On A Roll</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Yes, I know.  Two blogs in a row is extremely rare for me.  But today something happened that doesn't happen often in this house so I felt the need to blog about it.  Ready?  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This afternoon, I had one solid hour of quiet&lt;/span&gt;.  I took the advice of my sister and alloted one hour in the afternoon for quiet play.  Each child has their own place.  Two of my children share a room but I put one of them in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; room to seperate them.  See how that works?  They cannot fight if they are not together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are only four &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tiny&lt;/span&gt; rules:&lt;br /&gt;1.)  They may choose their activity but it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must be quiet&lt;/span&gt; (i.e. books, paper dolls, blocks).&lt;br /&gt;2.)  They &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must be quiet&lt;/span&gt;.  They cannot talk to each other.&lt;br /&gt;3.)  They cannot come to me (unless it is a DIRE emergency, i.e. bleeding profusely). &lt;br /&gt;4.)  If they MUST go to the restroom (which you wouldn't think they would given that it is one mere hour, but my children are famous for having to go to the bathroom often), they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must go quietly&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See a theme here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my children began to grow out of the toddler years (they are many years past them now), I knew there was something I was missing.  At first I thought it was the longing for a new little one.  But now I've finally realized what it was -- naptime!  So I've decided that quiet time has now replaced naptime.  Today, in the length of time they were in their quiet play, I got dishes cleaned, floor swept, dinner started and a Bible tape listened to.  And you know what the amazing thing was?  They liked it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; staying on our schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116287267928715245?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116287267928715245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116287267928715245' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116287267928715245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116287267928715245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/on-roll.html' title='On A Roll'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116278875993117130</id><published>2006-11-05T20:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T21:16:19.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If you're still there...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Okay, so it's almost been a complete month since I wrote anything. You know how when you've waited awhile to write, you keep thinking you need something really great to write? So you keep procrastinating and never get around to sharing anything because no matter what you're thinking it's never good enough? Well, I think that's what's happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight I decided that I was just going to write. This may go nowhere but at least that blasted dog story will not be the first post on my blog anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I have become more aware of myself withdrawing.  I do this when I feel manipulated, angry, hurt or I'm tired.  I know it's wrong.  So I am trying desperately to change.  Instead of automatically getting angry and shutting down, I'm trying to be more honest in the moment.  That has its own struggles since I don't think too fast on my feet. But since I've seen more of my pattern, I notice what I'm doing as I'm doing it and I've been able to stop myself quicker.  It's hard!  It's like trying to learn to write correctly when you've written incorrectly your entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also learning about spiritual disciplines.  That's all I'll say about that because everytime I try to write more about it, it comes out really trite.  I can't seem to truly express what I want to say.  Maybe I'll figure it out later and can write more on that subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's getting late and I've got to get up early to teach my kiddos school in the morning.  Have a great week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116278875993117130?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116278875993117130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116278875993117130' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116278875993117130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116278875993117130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/11/if-youre-still-there.html' title='If you&apos;re still there...'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116029016288481556</id><published>2006-10-07T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T21:39:54.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Dog; New Tricks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We have an older dog that some friends gave us several months ago. My children absolutely love her and I find myself enjoying her too. The fact that I actually like her is no small miracle, just ask anyone in my family. The most hated chore around here is having to scoop poop. The kids have to do it and with a big dog comes big--- well, you know. I have contemplated this for awhile and decided that I want her to learn to poop in our side yard. No one ever goes there except Hubby when he's mowing. I figure if it's all together it will be easier to gather and if we have young children over they will not be stepping in it while playing in the main yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I put her on a leash every time she went out and took her to the side yard. She was very excited at first thinking we were going for a walk. But as the day wore on she was not so thrilled with the leash. After a long morning of trying to get her to go, she finally peed in the right area. I had treats ready! The rest of the day she continued to pee there but was still not going number two. Somewhere late in the evening, she finally gave in and pooped in the proper place. Yippee!! I guess you really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can&lt;/span&gt; teach an old dog new tricks.  Or perhaps we just have an unbelieveably brilliant dog. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116029016288481556?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116029016288481556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116029016288481556' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116029016288481556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116029016288481556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/10/old-dog-new-tricks.html' title='Old Dog; New Tricks'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-116015086800009188</id><published>2006-10-06T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T21:33:02.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://www.artistmiles.com/galleries/thumbs/New%20Work_bowing_woman_thumb.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.artistmiles.com/galleries/thumbs/New%20Work_bowing_woman_thumb.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's been ever so long since I've blogged. I'm not sure why it's been so tough to sit down again. I haven't even been able to keep up with some of my favorite bloggers and for that I'm sorry. I will try to catch up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to update you all on my progress as of late. Not too long ago I shared my struggle with being a &lt;a href="http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-addiction.html"&gt;glutton&lt;/a&gt;. It's really more than that, it's an overall feeling that I deserve things to go &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; way. I feel God has been showing me so much about surrendering. Surrender to Him and His plans whether or not I understand them. It's difficult. I fight it so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt led to fast for some days to seek Him and take the focus off myself or food. I cried before I started because I really didn't want to do it. I tell you this only to explain my journey. I pray it isn't for bragging rights. It broke me. Fasting has a way of doing that. You're suddenly not as strong as you thought you were. I felt weak and a shaky. It made me realize how 1/3 of the world feels daily. No wonder they struggle. It improved my compassion. If you'd like to read more about fasting, I love what &lt;a href="http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1058/is_7_118/ai_71949676/pg_1"&gt;Mark Buchanan&lt;/a&gt; says about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout those struggling days I began to see how desperately I depended on God when He was my only strength and I didn't have chocolate to save me. I continue to learn about how to submit. It's so difficult. I wish there was a way to do it once and be forever done. I continue to walk baby step by baby step. On the upside, I am steadily loosing weight in very SMALL portions but at least the scale is going down. I am loosing inches too. Again, I'm not trying to brag but it's such a victory in my life that I have to give glory to God. I will say that it's improved my faith. Hopefully not just because things are going good but because I saw in a very miniscule way how through pain, I can learn to trust Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've rambled enough.  I guess I'm making up for lost time. ;)  Hope to read up on all of you soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-116015086800009188?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/116015086800009188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=116015086800009188' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116015086800009188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/116015086800009188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/10/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115820978902533294</id><published>2006-09-13T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T09:34:47.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jump</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I was reading a book that continues to call me to "think". He was talking about how we often avoid studying Scripture because of how hard it is to comprehend. I completely relate to this. There is so much in Scripture that I cannot get a grasp of. I have struggled through feeling as though I must be able to understand it before I will believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, lately the question that continues to haunt me is this: If I can't understand Him, can I believe Him? In our American society we are so accustomed to having things explained or demanding that they are, that it's hard for me to depart from that. Can I take the jump and just have faith? Will I embrace a God that seems cruel and unexplanable sometimes? Must I agree with everything about Him before I stand in awe of who He is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I MUST embrace Him. His love, His sacrifice, His anger, His jealousy, His mercy, His holiness, His vengance, His forgiveness, His power, His strength, His judgement. I have nothing else to hold onto if I don't have Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this moment, I am willing to embrace it. As frightening and exciting as it is, I'm ready to jump off the cliff of doubt into the air of faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115820978902533294?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115820978902533294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115820978902533294' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115820978902533294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115820978902533294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/09/jump.html' title='Jump'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115755677937727919</id><published>2006-09-06T08:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T08:34:48.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revived</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yesterday was a strange day for me. I woke up so dizzy that I kept bumping into walls. The dizziness made me feel ill so I laid back down. I got to feeling better so I got up; then I felt the wave of yuck come over me, so I quickly lay down again. That was pretty much my entire day. I had to do school from my bed. The kids enjoyed doing something different. I kept having bouts of nauseous come over me so I would send them away for awhile while I rested. To keep my sanity, I did the unthinkable; I let them watch movies, watch television and play video games. Gasp! And during the schoolweek. They loved it! To keep myself occupied I read a book, in between dizzy spells, that I'd been aiming to read for awhile. That was my only work of the day; I thoroughly enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I woke up amazingly refreshed. I have no sign of dizziness today. It must have been a weird virus. Strange. Now I find myself wanting to catch up on everything that I didn't get done yesterday, plus some! I'm dying to accomplish &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;. L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115755677937727919?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115755677937727919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115755677937727919' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115755677937727919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115755677937727919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/09/revived_06.html' title='Revived'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115755669365174146</id><published>2006-09-06T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T08:31:33.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revived</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yesterday was a strange day for me.  I woke up so dizzy that I kept bumping into walls.  The dizziness made me feel ill so I laid back down.  I got to feeling better so I got up; then I felt the wave of yuck come over me, so I quickly lay down again.  That was pretty much my entire day.  I had to do school from my bed.  The kids enjoyed doing something different.  I kept having bouts of nauseous come over me so I would send them away for awhile while I rested.  To keep my sanity, I did the unthinkable; I let them watch movies, watch television and play video games.  Gasp!  And during the schoolweek.  They loved it!  To keep myself occupied I read a book, in between dizzy spells, that I'd been aiming to read for awhile.  That was my only work of the day; I thoroughly enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I woke up amazingly refreshed.  I have no sign of dizziness today.  It must have been a weird virus.  Strange.  Now I find myself wanting to catch up on everything that I didn't get done yesterday, plus some!  I'm dying to accomplish &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;. L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115755669365174146?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115755669365174146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115755669365174146' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115755669365174146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115755669365174146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/09/revived.html' title='Revived'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115742318370845872</id><published>2006-09-04T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T19:26:23.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Labor Day Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We took off this weekend to visit my sister-in-law and her kiddos.  My mother-in-law went with us.  She is elderly and doesn't get out very often.  She really enjoyed getting to see them; we had fun catching up on everything.  The kids got to play and swim together.  We went shopping a little.  All in all it was a good weekend, but it was nice to get back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115742318370845872?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115742318370845872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115742318370845872' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115742318370845872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115742318370845872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/09/labor-day-trip.html' title='Labor Day Trip'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115706165568097264</id><published>2006-08-31T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T15:03:07.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Party%20002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Party%20002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six years ago today my youngest child was born. He was the third in our trilogy of children. He has been such a precious little joy. I had known how fun it was to have girls but he showed me how fun it could be to have a boy. I can't imagine life without him now. He is the little joker that keeps us all laughing. And he's Daddy's biggest wrestling fan. I love the little guy! He's my baby and I suppose he will always be that to me. He is growing up too fast. I love who he has become. I look forward to watching him grow into manhood but I'm glad that's still a long way off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Little Mister!  I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115706165568097264?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115706165568097264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115706165568097264' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115706165568097264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115706165568097264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/birthday-boy.html' title='Birthday Boy'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115695010667630150</id><published>2006-08-30T07:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T08:17:22.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Hair</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You know that verse that talks about hair being the woman's glory? Well, lately, my hair has been my shame. I am trying desperately to grow it out but it's driving me CRAZY!!! So this morning I decided to try something different. I plugged in my hot sticks (only those from the 80's know what these are) and set my hair to super curly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just taken the rollers out when my eldest daughter walked in and exclaimed, "What did you do to your hair?!" I curled it, thank you very much! Since I hadn't combed it out yet, I decided to do so. It was quite curly, like Annie. My little boy walked in and yelled, "Ahhh!" My middle daughter saw me and said, "Mom, your hair looks like a grandma."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Okay people, that is it!  I'm cutting my hair.  Here are a few styles to choose from:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A.  Gotta love Sissel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: -moz-zoom-in;" alt="The image “http://www.emediawire.com/prfiles/2004/04/24/121357/Sissel_Picture.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.emediawire.com/prfiles/2004/04/24/121357/Sissel_Picture.jpg" width="481" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://www.hairstyle.com/datastore/0/bt-veryshort.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.hairstyle.com/datastore/0/bt-veryshort.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my desperation, I'm actually considering this:&lt;br /&gt;C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://beauty.about.com/library/graphics/ppatrice3.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://beauty.about.com/library/graphics/ppatrice3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what I was working towards, or something like it, before my meltdown:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://www.just-hairstyles.com/straight/s135.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.just-hairstyles.com/straight/s135.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115695010667630150?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115695010667630150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115695010667630150' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115695010667630150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115695010667630150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-hair.html' title='My Hair'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115688933055792794</id><published>2006-08-29T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T15:08:50.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perspective</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today has been a day of putting things into perspective.  My husband had a close call with death this morning.  He is not hurt, but he could have been.  I am so thankful right now that everything is okay.  It definitely has given me lots to think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a part of me that loves thinking I'm in control.  It's very disconcerting when I realize, once again, that I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; in control.  I find it ironic that lately my biggest issue in my spiritual walk has been the issue of trust.  Do I trust God even when things don't go my way?  Can I trust Him to be good even when it all looks bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the answer to that goes back and forth throughout my life.  I'm glad that the Christian walk is just that, a walk.  I can fall down and get back up.  I can walk slower through the difficult passages and faster when it's easy.  Maybe my faith doesn't waiver that much after all.  Perhaps, it's just adjusting to the climate around it.  I don't mean that it changes, just that it slows or quickens depending on the difficulty of the hike.  The main point is that I keep walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of walking, I will give you an update on my addiction.  This last week has been very difficult to stay on track.  I've found myself cramming my mouth and then recognizing that I wasn't hungry.  There were moments of growth when I quickly put the food away and decided to wait until I was really hungry.  Then there were times where I stuffed my mouth even faster and felt guilty afterwards.  For the most part, I believe I'm remembering to slow down and not overeat.  But I still covet your prayers.  I'm a toddler that can walk a few more steps before she falls.  I'm hoping to take off soon but it may well be a long time before I'm running. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115688933055792794?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115688933055792794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115688933055792794' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115688933055792794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115688933055792794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/perspective.html' title='Perspective'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115621980543444188</id><published>2006-08-21T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T21:10:05.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today was our first day of school. Aren't they sweet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Party%20024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Party%20024.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Party%20015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Party%20015.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Party%20022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Party%20022.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115621980543444188?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115621980543444188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115621980543444188' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115621980543444188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115621980543444188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/starting-again.html' title='Starting Again'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115592187204718835</id><published>2006-08-18T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T10:27:15.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Party, Party!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Cupcakes%20001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Cupcakes%20001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Cupcakes%20003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Cupcakes%20003.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Caspian%27s%20Cupcakes%20002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Caspian%27s%20Cupcakes%20002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are having my son's birthday party today. It's a swim party at our neighborhood swimming pool. We made these cupcakes with blue icing and sprinkles. He wanted to have a Nemo theme so this is my cheap version of a Nemo cake. I made the fish stencil out of felt-ish type paper. It was fun decorating the cupcakes and my birthday boy loved adding the sprinkles! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115592187204718835?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115592187204718835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115592187204718835' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115592187204718835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115592187204718835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/party-party.html' title='Party, Party!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115558929238078765</id><published>2006-08-14T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T08:18:10.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Addiction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have an addiction to food. I'm not joking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks ago, I asked God to show me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; I have such a drive to eat. Even when I want to lose weight and stay on a diet, my mind is consumed with food. He showed me that it is a god to me. I turn to chocolate for comfort, coffee for strength, and chips when I feel lonely. Of course, there is nothing morally wrong about those foods. What's bad is that my heart longs for those things more than desiring God. Food seems safer. At least that's how it feels, yet I know in my mind that's not true. If you're thinking, "Why is she making such a mountain out of this?" I'll show you a few of the verses that brought me to this conclusion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job 23:12b "I have treasured the words of his mouth &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more than my daily bread&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prov. 23:2  "and put a knife to your throat if you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are given to gluttony&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phil. 3:19 "Their destiny is destruction, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;their god is their stomach&lt;/span&gt;, and their glory is in their shame. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Their mind is on earthly things&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds silly, but letting go of my comfort food feels like saying goodbye to an old friend. It's been difficult.  In trying not to be a glutton, I've been making myself wait until I'm hungry to eat. Novel idea, I know. But before now, I would not have worried about being hungry. I ate regardless. I'm also trying not to overeat. It's been hard because I'm not used to it. So I've tried reading Scripture in lue of grabbing more food. I am still far away from turning my obsession with food back to affection for God, but I'm learning. Ironically, not only am I knowing God more deeply, but an added side effect is that I'm losing weight. Could it be that the "no gluttony" stuff is for our benefit? God has good ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115558929238078765?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115558929238078765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115558929238078765' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115558929238078765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115558929238078765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-addiction.html' title='My Addiction'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115556229182698295</id><published>2006-08-14T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T06:56:53.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Justice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I read through the whole book of Habbakuk this week. It made me think quite a lot. The thing that started to dawn on me was that suffering and violence is not new. Okay, I know that's elementary. But I mean, that in Bible times it was not uncommon to wipe out complete groups of people. In fact, that would be the goal. God even directed it at times. Well, He's soverign so I guess that means He always directs it. But, I won't tackle that subject today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've said before, I have struggled with recent annilations, like the Holocaust, Cambodia, Rwanda and others. Reading through Scripture, there is always a reason for these horrible moments. It seems to be discipline at times, blood for blood type of thing. At other times, it happens for the sake of freedom, letting the slaved ones go free and having to kill to make that happen. Okay, I'm no theologian. I cannot expound too much; there may be countless reasons. I'm just saying what I've gleaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, perhaps these recent times should not be so surprising. Even in Habbakuk when God explains how the Babylonians are going to overcome them and destroy them; Habbakuk questions why there is no judgement on the Babylonians. God explains that their day is coming for punishment in all that they have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there is a reason in all the madness. It just may not always be clear to me. But Habbakuk impresses me with his faithfulness. He continues to understand the awesomeness of God in the midst of knowing such horrible news. He praises Him and recognizes that He is God and the one to make the decisions. I'm amazed. I would have been arguing or whining! "But God...How come? That's not fair!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our "get-everything-we-want-when-we-want-it" society, I think it's incredibly hard to grasp why anything bad should have to happen to us. Isn't it our "right" to be okay? However, on the flip side, if unjustice has been done to me then I want violence! If someone ever hurt my kids, I would them to pay to the fullest extent. Perhaps that's the side in God's thinking that I don't ever see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115556229182698295?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115556229182698295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115556229182698295' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115556229182698295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115556229182698295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/justice.html' title='Justice'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115489375271600967</id><published>2006-08-06T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-06T13:02:03.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Last week my husband and I watched a movie called Sometimes in April. It's the story of a man who survived the brutal genecide in Rwanda, Africa but lost many of the people he loved during that horrific month. I'll have to say that after watching it two things really bothered me. One, that I didn't know much about it and it happened in 1994. Two, that it happened and God didn't stop it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laid in bed that night tossing and turning; crying and wondering; praying and pleading with God. WHY?! Why does stuff like that have to happen? I have read several heart-renching stories of Hitler survivers and also some about Cambodian survivors of the Killing Fields. All of these stories have one element in them that makes my heart shudder. People can be unbelievably evil and cruel. If I didn't know it already, I do now. Joseph Stalin said, "One death is a tragedy; a million is a statistic."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="body"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="bodybold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that quote because I know it's true. If someone near me dies then I'm filled with compassion. But if a million people are massacred across the world I don't even notice. That's why I think that documentaries and movies are so important to tell a story from one person's perspective. THEN it hits home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all this comes back to my title. Why? This morning in church the speaker, Mark Riddle, read from Habakkuk and it was as if he was reading what I'd cried to God this week. I'll have to be honest that just seeing someone in the Bible struggle like I'm struggling is always refreshing. I think that's why I love Psalms so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first cry is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-22734" class="sup"&gt;2&lt;/span&gt; How long, O LORD, must I call for help,&lt;br /&gt;    but you do not listen?&lt;br /&gt;    Or cry out to you, "Violence!"&lt;br /&gt;    but you do not save?  &lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-22735" class="sup"&gt;3&lt;/span&gt; Why do you make me look at injustice?&lt;br /&gt;    Why do you tolerate wrong?&lt;br /&gt;    Destruction and violence are before me;&lt;br /&gt;    there is strife, and conflict abounds. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-22736" class="sup"&gt;4&lt;/span&gt; Therefore the law is paralyzed,&lt;br /&gt;    and justice never prevails.&lt;br /&gt;    The wicked hem in the righteous,&lt;br /&gt;    so that justice is perverted.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Then when God answers, it's not the answer Habakkuk wants. But he doesn't lose his faith. Sometimes I feel so faithless. We're studying the book of Habakkuk for the next few weeks. I'm glad. I think I need a little shot of faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115489375271600967?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115489375271600967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115489375271600967' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115489375271600967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115489375271600967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/why.html' title='WHY?'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115455859724869686</id><published>2006-08-02T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T15:54:01.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I know that probably in this song she is speaking to her fans, but when I hear it I think of my husband and even more so, of God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115455859724869686?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115455859724869686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115455859724869686' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115455859724869686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115455859724869686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/everything.html' title='Everything'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115447721478222156</id><published>2006-08-01T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T17:06:54.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I didn't MAKE this mess!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today I woke up raring to go.  I got myself ready, and started off my day with To-Do list in hand.  First on the list was cleaning out Little Lady and Little Mister's room and to get Little Miss cleaning her own room (being that she's older and doesn't need as much help).  Lady and Mister's room was one HUGE mess.  I had not been checking it so I hadn't thought it would be too bad.  First mistake.  You know what they say about assuming?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it started off fine.  They were happy I was in there.  They like it when I help them get things back in order.  However, by lunch time they were begging for a break.  I gave them a lunch break and then started cracking the whip again.  I began to notice that every time I stepped out of the room to put something away or to get a cleaning tool, Little Lady would whine that I wasn't helping.  Then she was whining that I was cleaning more of the other siblings things.  Eventually they were all whining.  "We've worked ALL DAY."  "Why do we have to do this?"  "Yeah, why don't we get a break?"  "Why aren't you helping me?" "How come WE have to put it all away?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrr!  I was sweating.  I was tired.  I had HAD it.  "Why?"  I said.  "You want to know why YOU have to do it?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all sat anxiously awaiting my explaination. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because YOU MADE THE MESS!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, breaktime didn't come around again for awhile.  Except for me.  I took a good, long water break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115447721478222156?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115447721478222156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115447721478222156' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115447721478222156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115447721478222156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-didnt-make-this-mess.html' title='I didn&apos;t MAKE this mess!!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115440522552691374</id><published>2006-07-31T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T17:08:34.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And This Little Piggy Came Home!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm home again after a great visit with family last week. My poor sister survived her gall bladder surgery and was a great patient. Over the weekend, we had a fun time visiting with my parents and celebrating Mom's birthday. That woman is timeless! I hope I got those genes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I arrived home tired and happy, my amazing husband had the house sparkling and laundry finished. Talk about a Sweetie! I was glad to see him. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading a wonderful book right now that I'll have to do a review on when I'm finished. Sorry this isn't a meatier blog but I'm too tired to write much. Hope you are all having a great day in blogland!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115440522552691374?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115440522552691374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115440522552691374' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115440522552691374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115440522552691374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/07/and-this-little-piggy-came-home.html' title='And This Little Piggy Came Home!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115342498822994440</id><published>2006-07-20T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T12:53:20.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool Drink for a Hot, Hot Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://www.foodmall.org/images/frappucino.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.foodmall.org/images/frappucino.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don't know, I love coffee. My husband worked at Starbucks for awhile and I was in coffee heaven! :) I HAVE to have my coffee in the morning; it's my wake-up juice. I'll even drink it on a hot day like today (107 degrees to be exact) and I was perspiring ur, I mean, glowing. However, having a frozen coffee drink is so much more refreshing. So here is a recipe for all those coffee drinkers out there that are too hot to drink it today:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Recipe and kitchen tip are taken from &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Miserly Meals&lt;/span&gt; by Jonni McCoy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;COFFEECCINO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1 1/2 cups cold coffee (decaf or regular)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1/2 cup milk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1/2 cup sugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1 tsp. Chocolate Syrup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1/4 tsp. vanilla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;3 cups ice cubes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Place all of the ingredients in a blender. Cover and blend on high speed until the ice is crushed and the mixture is smooth. Pour into tall glasses and enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Variations:  Add 2 T. caramel ice cream topping to the drink before blending, and/or top with whipped cream before serving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cost per serving (1 1/3 cups): $.08  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Better price than Starbucks, eh?]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kitchen Tip&lt;br /&gt;If you make EXTRA COFFEE, don't throw it away; keep it fo another recipe. You can refrigerate coffee in a covered jar for one month or freeze it for up to six months. Freeze it in a plastic container or in ice cube trays for easy use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115342498822994440?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115342498822994440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115342498822994440' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115342498822994440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115342498822994440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/07/cool-drink-for-hot-hot-day.html' title='Cool Drink for a Hot, Hot Day'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115316993892449207</id><published>2006-07-17T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T17:44:00.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Always on Your Side</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;God has been showing me many things lately. He has shown me incredible grace during this last week. This song resonated with me. Maybe it doesn't match exactly to my circumstance, but I love it anyway. Supermom and Bttrfly, I send this out to you. Here are the lyrics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Always On Your Side"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away&lt;br /&gt;But every now and then you come to mind&lt;br /&gt;Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game&lt;br /&gt;But when your name was called, you found a place to hide&lt;br /&gt;When you knew that I was always on your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent&lt;br /&gt;But my demons and my angels reappeared&lt;br /&gt;Leavin' all the traces of the man you thought I'd be&lt;br /&gt;Too afraid to hear the words I'd always feared&lt;br /&gt;Leavin' you with only questions all these years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear&lt;br /&gt;Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear&lt;br /&gt;Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally&lt;br /&gt;This isn't how it's really meant to be&lt;br /&gt;No it isn't how it's really meant to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well they say that love is in the air, but never is it clear,&lt;br /&gt;How to pull it close and make it stay&lt;br /&gt;Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away&lt;br /&gt;And I'm left to carry on and wonder why&lt;br /&gt;Even through it all, I'm always on your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear&lt;br /&gt;Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear&lt;br /&gt;Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally&lt;br /&gt;This isn't how it's really meant to be&lt;br /&gt;No it isn't how it's really meant to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear&lt;br /&gt;How to pull it close and make it stay&lt;br /&gt;If butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away&lt;br /&gt;Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why&lt;br /&gt;Was it you that kept me wondering through this life&lt;br /&gt;When you know that I was always on your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115316993892449207?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115316993892449207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115316993892449207' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115316993892449207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115316993892449207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/07/always-on-your-side.html' title='Always on Your Side'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115280947186888265</id><published>2006-07-13T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T09:57:27.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Give Me A Formula!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://judithhouse.tripod.com/Prayer_Page/a_jesus_hugging_girl.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://judithhouse.tripod.com/Prayer_Page/a_jesus_hugging_girl.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have definitely felt some moments of desperation lately with my parenting. Slowly God has been revealing to me that our problems are rooted in me. I would rather Him just give me three steps to make really great kids and be done with it. But unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. These problems are bound inside my heart and they demonstrate themselves through me and then reflect in my children. Those sweet little mirrors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Submit. Man, how I love and hate that word! In my head I know that submitting to God is taking the pathway of peace. But in my heart is another path I like to take. The I-Know-Best path. I am such a control freak. I didn't think I was, but it's come bubbling to the surface through all this struggling. Yuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want control of my husband, kids, family, friends, etc. It's not that I truly believe myself to be the most intelligent person in the world but I guess I must think fairly highly of myself since I always want things done MY way. Or maybe that's just selfishness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'm almost finished with my rant. One thing that has been so wonderful about this "working through" is that I am beginning to see my need for rest. That resting in Him that settles me. It's that moment of being held by a loved one through a turbulent time; it calms me. I wish I could stay there and never get up. Maybe the process is just learning to get back there and stay a little longer each time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm beginning to see that as God parents me, so must I parent my children. I can't teach them what I haven't allowed God to teach me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115280947186888265?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115280947186888265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115280947186888265' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115280947186888265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115280947186888265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/07/just-give-me-formula.html' title='Just Give Me A Formula!!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115259699246380110</id><published>2006-07-10T22:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T23:39:47.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Love Avril Lavigne!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I know that I will probably get some rebuttals on this, but I can't help it. I love the passion with which the girl sings. The fact that she writes all her own music&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. The depth of her lyrics. Her honesty. Her anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that anger is an odd thing to love about a person, but I do. I can be an angry woman sometimes. I hate that the world isn't perfect. I want the garden of Eden. NOT the remnants! I want to live in perfection. NOT have to BE perfect. I want to be passionate. NOT fearful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were only forty pounds lighter and twenty years younger, I might go on the road with my angry songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115259699246380110?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115259699246380110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115259699246380110' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115259699246380110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115259699246380110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/07/why-i-love-avril-lavigne.html' title='Why I Love Avril Lavigne!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115224464407357876</id><published>2006-07-06T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T20:57:24.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For Want of a Mentor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have been thinking lately that I need a mentor.  You know, someone ahead of me in the game of life that will walk me through what's coming.  Someone whose children my little ones could look up to.  I need that wife, mother, and friend that could admonish me to be everything God wants.  I want them to be like-minded.  Is that so bad?  Not that they have to think everything that I do, but that we see major things in life through the same lense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mean to sound ungrateful.  I have many wonderful friends and family members who love me, inspire me and journey with me.  But most of us are peers.  And there is something to be said about that older woman, living in the same town, that could show me things that I don't know.  Or even challenge me when they see weakness in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we are part of a church plant, many of our members are young.  I love that.  They add vitality and life to our tiny congregation.  BUT, that makes me one of the oldest women in our church.  I don't feel particularly suited for that. :)  It's not a bad fact, it's just a fact.  I guess lately I've noticed my need for guidance more than ever and I'm feeling desperate.  So, I've started praying for a mentor.  Isn't it funny that being desperate always leads to prayer?  I guess I should have started praying BEFORE I was desperate.  Oh well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115224464407357876?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115224464407357876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115224464407357876' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115224464407357876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115224464407357876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/07/for-want-of-mentor.html' title='For Want of a Mentor'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115135532687685313</id><published>2006-06-26T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T13:55:27.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Camp GonnaWannaFLY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today was our second day in Camp GonnaWannaFLY.  Yes, I know it sounds cheesy, but it's working!  It's a great idea from &lt;a href="http://www.flylady.com"&gt;Flylady&lt;/a&gt; (yes, I'm talking about her again).  We are working on our morning routine and evening routine.  Everyday that we acheive the routines withOUT reminders, we have something fun we get to do.  I talked with my kids on Saturday, we voted on the ideas and we made a list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday: Arts and Crafts&lt;br /&gt;Monday: Skating Rink&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday: Backwards Day/Sprinkler Park&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday: Library&lt;br /&gt;Thursday: Swimming&lt;br /&gt;Friday: Scavenger Hunt&lt;br /&gt;Saturday: Games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is working wonders for me and the kids because no one wants to have to sit out on the fun.  I'll admit that the skating rink today definitely took me back!  At first I was all mothering and making sure Little Mister could skate without killing himself.  But after he got the hang of things, I took off to race my girls.  It was so much fun!  I actually started remembering how it felt to be little and go fast around the rink.  That neverending circle of fun!  We have Backwards day tomorrow AFTER they have finished all their chores (of course we won't do the "fun" thing before chores are finished).  But we WILL have dessert first and then dinner.  Walk backwards throughout the day and that sort of fun stuff. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been good for me too because I'm actually making time to have fun and not stay busy all day.  They enjoy my attention and seem happier to do chores knowing there is a treat on the horizon.  As we were driving away from the rink today I heard my eldest daughter say, "Thanks Flylady!"  Yeah, thanks Flylady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115135532687685313?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115135532687685313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115135532687685313' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115135532687685313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115135532687685313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/camp-gonnawannafly.html' title='Camp GonnaWannaFLY'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115120135761170865</id><published>2006-06-24T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-24T19:31:04.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Because of You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well, it seems like I am blogging only once a week now. That may have to be my schedule for awhile. I seem to be struggling to get to the computer lately. My house is calling; my kids are calling; nature is calling; you get the point. But I guess I'll be happy with one blog a week. My sister was visiting this week and we had the greatest time! We always do. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She introduced me to this &lt;a href="http://www.videocodezone.com/videos/k/kelly_clarkson/because_of_you.html"&gt;video&lt;/a&gt;. The song has been on my mind a lot. It is funny how people can shape who you are even what you're afraid of. When I hear this song, I think of people in my past, boyfriends, friends, family and enemies that shaped so much of who I am. I wish I could say that they didn't shape me, but that I shaped myself. That wouldn't be honest. The older I get the more I recognize what IS me and what is NOT me. That's good I guess. But then I watch my kids and I wonder what will shape them.  Even though I had a wonderful childhood, I still had my share of heartbreak and betrayal. I'm sure that all of us could sing this song to someone in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once had the opportunity to confront someone who'd really hurt me. He was truly repentant and broken when I approached. It made it a little easier to forgive. To move on. That doesn't always happen, I know. And there is something in me that loves anger. I like the thrill of that feeling for a time. However, I can't stay there or I become bitter. I've learned the blame game is no game at all. It's a trap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while I love this song, I have to pull back from it in the same moment. My fears might have been because of someone else in the past. But now, it's because of me. Maybe I am who I'm singing to after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115120135761170865?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115120135761170865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115120135761170865' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115120135761170865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115120135761170865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/because-of-you.html' title='Because of You'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-115056329501044479</id><published>2006-06-17T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T13:33:53.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Baaaack!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We had such a great vacation. My kids absolutely loved flying! They were so cute to watch during take-off. Their faces were all excited like going down a hill of a roller coaster. Even turbulence was fun for them. Our first plane ride was a great experience. The stewardess brought a basket FULL of different snacks and encouraged everyone to have as many as they liked. My kids took full advantage! L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our second day there, we camped out around the Grand Canyon. Camping out was fun which is a huge thing for a city girl like myself. The friends we were staying with, fixed incredible meals! It didn't taste like camp food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to go for a hike through the Grand Canyon. It was such an awesome sight. But the closer we got to the outlook spot, the higher my fear began to rise. There were no bars or fences to keep you from falling. So I was a nervous wreck about my kids. Husband held tight to the hands of our two little ones. My eldest daughter was busy snapping photos of everything and I had to keep reminding her to stay in the middle of the path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we reached the lookout point, there was a small bridge that you had to cross which DID have a railing but it was still fairly open. On the other side was the lookout point that had the same kind of railing and it jetted out so you could see the whole canyon. At that point my fear took full hold. I can say that I don't think I've ever been terrified like that before. I was hugging the rocks on the inside of the trail and praying my heart out while my kids and Husband crossed the bridge. I couldn't even bring myself to cross with them or even hardly move! I think I understand now why people fall to the ground when they see God. I got a small taste of the awesomeness. And now I know that I have a fear of heights. I was probably the quickest walker on the hike back down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went on lots of hikes which was fun and good for me to be walking. My kids did so great and they had fun being at one with nature. We were so busy going and doing that we hardly had time for anything else. I finally decided to forgo a hike and stayed behind. I walked around until I found a perfect place to sit. I sat in a beautiful spot by a roaring river to sketch, write and read. It was two hours of bliss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that is the quick version of my vacation. You may get to hear more later on. It was fun to get away. But it's been fun to be back. I'm such a homebody! L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-115056329501044479?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/115056329501044479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=115056329501044479' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115056329501044479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/115056329501044479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-baaaack.html' title='I&apos;m Baaaack!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114962963916406877</id><published>2006-06-06T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T19:44:19.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tomorrow our family is leaving for vacation. So you probably won't be hearing from me for a week. I am so excited to get out of town and have some fun! We are flying to visit some friends. They are graciously hosting us and have planned lots of exciting and educational things for us to do. I think my kids are as excited about flying as they are about our trip. They don't remember flying before because they were so small. They've asked some pretty interesting questions about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, will we be able to open the windows on the plane?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will there be outlets by our seats?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kind&lt;/span&gt; of snacks do they give us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you go to the bathroom when you're in the air, where does &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt; go?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What if the pilot puts the seatbelt sign on while you're going to the bathroom?  Do they have seatbelts in the bathroom?"&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuties!  They are so easily entertained.  My husband says they get that from me. :}  Hope you all have a great week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114962963916406877?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114962963916406877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114962963916406877' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114962963916406877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114962963916406877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114952203384270714</id><published>2006-06-05T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T09:09:17.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In 1992, I completed a course, from the Institute of Children's Literature, on writing for children and teenagers that I really enjoyed. I wrote off and on from that point on, mostly for children and pre-adolescents. When my children were born, I found myself having to fit it in sporadically, and several years it was just non-exsistent. I have recently decided to seriously pursue it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it my goal to write something, articles or stories, everyday for fifteen minutes. I have to start small, you see. Sometimes those fifteen minutes turn into thirty minutes without even glancing at the clock. Other times it's all I can do to fill up the fifteen minutes. Odd how that works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like a treasure box has been opened that I've kept closed for awhile. It's thrilling, exciting and terrifying. The Writers Market book for 2007 comes out in July, so I'm anxiously awaiting it. In case you don't know what that is, it's a book that gives the names of publishing houses and editors to send your work to and what their requirements are. I want to have several pieces ready to send off by the time it arrives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114952203384270714?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114952203384270714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114952203384270714' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114952203384270714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114952203384270714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/writing-again.html' title='Writing Again'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114940323061302879</id><published>2006-06-03T23:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-03T23:42:59.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightime Muse</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Too much coffee did I drink?&lt;br /&gt;Too many thoughts I must think.&lt;br /&gt;The bed is calling out my name.&lt;br /&gt;My body plays different game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow morn will come too fast.&lt;br /&gt;Time for sleeping will be past.&lt;br /&gt;So a lesson I did learn.&lt;br /&gt;Late night coffee I must spurn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114940323061302879?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114940323061302879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114940323061302879' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114940323061302879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114940323061302879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/nightime-muse.html' title='Nightime Muse'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114922592794491941</id><published>2006-06-01T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T22:32:13.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your God Is Too Safe</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am restarting this book again by Mark Buchanan called &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1576737748/002-6165867-5490464?v=glance&amp;n=283155"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your God Is Too Safe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. I'm restarting it because I always seem to get about halfway done and I put it away. It scares me or at the least, shakes me. I'm hoping this time that I can get farther or that it will not seem as hard to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blogging friend of mine has been asking heartfelt questions about God and it's inspired me to struggle through my own questions more. Sometimes I get too sidetracked with life to bother looking so deep into my faith or lack thereof. But lately, something is stirring and I hope to make sense of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114922592794491941?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114922592794491941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114922592794491941' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114922592794491941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114922592794491941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/06/your-god-is-too-safe.html' title='Your God Is Too Safe'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114902357131765841</id><published>2006-05-30T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T14:12:51.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Garage Sale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We are holding a garage sale this weekend for any of you bargain hunters wanting to get a deal.  We are doing it with/for some friends.  Since I will probably not want to have another one for awhile, we have been in a frenzy to get as much of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our&lt;/span&gt; stuff in it as possible.  So I've been sorting through our house to get rid off anything I do not love.  (Not to worry Mom, my special things are safely locked away in my hope chest and the china is staying.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today we had an orthodonist appointment for both my girls.  It was just the monthly check-up and they are both doing well.  Since I was out already I decided to run by Bibliomania (a resale store for homeschool curriculum) to grab a book that I needed.  That store is like the black hole for me because I find myself being sucked in wanting to buy more and more.  I went in for one book and came out with two bags.  Yes, I know, I DID say I was trying to get rid of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess these books can replace the ones that I'm getting rid of.  Hee-hee.  No seriously, they were books that I was needing for this year and most of them were off of the half-price racks.  Great deals, see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I needed to run to the Dollar Tree to get the price tag stickers for our stuff.  To cut down on more temptation, I parked in front and sent my eldest daughter in alone with only enough cash to buy the stickers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight the girls and I are going to see The Lion King broadway production (someone gave us three free tickets!!).  I cannot wait!  Oh, and they're excited too.  Little Mister is going to have some great one-on-one time with Daddy doing some boyish fun stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I better go.  The house isn't getting any emptier while I sit here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114902357131765841?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114902357131765841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114902357131765841' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114902357131765841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114902357131765841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/garage-sale.html' title='Garage Sale'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114840492045610469</id><published>2006-05-23T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T14:56:34.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mudman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20021.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20021.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20024.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20023.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20023.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20026.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20028.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Eastwood%20Reunion%2CRivKids%2CMudplay%20029.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Without snow, we must make do. My kids are loving the beautiful weather and making lots of things with mud. Needless to say, they've had lots of baths lately! I should probably just put a pool in the backyard and kill two birds with one stone. And in case you're wondering, yes, this IS school!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114840492045610469?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114840492045610469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114840492045610469' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114840492045610469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114840492045610469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/mudman.html' title='Mudman'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114827192727184550</id><published>2006-05-21T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T22:18:39.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jonah Syndrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://www.bobartlettart.com/paintings/images/oil/water/jonah.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.bobartlettart.com/paintings/images/oil/water/jonah.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight at &lt;a href="http://www.rethinkchurch.com"&gt;Rivendell&lt;/a&gt;, we finished up the book of Jonah. I have really enjoyed this study for two reasons. One, it's entertaining. Two, I can relate to Jonah. I laugh at the end of &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jonah%204%20;&amp;version=51;"&gt;Jonah&lt;/a&gt; when he FINALLY does what God tells him to do, then runs out and builds himself a booth from which to watch the destruction of Nineveh. He &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doesn't want&lt;/span&gt; them to repent. He's hoping that God will NOT change His mind but will follow through with the destruction. Instead, the people immediately repent. The king orders everyone to fast from food &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and water&lt;/span&gt; for three days hoping to pacify God. I can't imagine going three days without anything to drink!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is merciful and doesn't destroy them. Jonah is on the sidelines watching and waiting. He longs for Nineveh to be destroyed and rightly so. He'd probably seen relatives brutally murdered or tortured by these people. He hated them and expected God to be on his side. But God didn't do what Jonah wanted. Instead, God brought to Jonah's attention that he cared more about the shade tree dying than he did about the people whom God could potentially destroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonah is so much like me. I listen for God to speak to me but then run when He asks something of me that I feel is unreasonable. What is He thinking?! I also have times of looking at others just as Jonah looked at the Ninevites and believe they deserve what's coming to them. But when I'm in the "hot seat", I beg and hope for mercy, just like Jonah in the belly of the great fish. (It always amazes me that it took him three days to repent. I think I would have been praying right away. But then again...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the book of Jonah.  He gets angry with God, just like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P.S. What is the deal with all the "3's"? He was in the belly of the fish for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; days. The city of Nineveh was so large that it took &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; days to walk through it. The Ninevites fasted for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; days.  Of course Jesus was in the tomb for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; days, so is there significance in the actual number &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt;?  I just thought of another one, the trinity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114827192727184550?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114827192727184550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114827192727184550' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114827192727184550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114827192727184550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/jonah-syndrome.html' title='Jonah Syndrome'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114801616412682916</id><published>2006-05-18T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T22:22:44.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Am I Thinking About School?  It's Summer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I tell you, I have been &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;consumed&lt;/span&gt; with thinking about what I'm doing in school next year.  &lt;a href="http://thejacksonjourney.blogspot.com"&gt;Joyful Journey&lt;/a&gt;, you really got my thinker going! :)  This is that time of year that I'm always re-evaluating what I've taught or not taught.  I was having a moment of panic today and just poured my heart out to God.  I decided to walk away from all my choices for a little while and calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the "calming down" time, I revisited my bookcases.  I have so many good treasures there.  I found one that I hadn't read.  What's this?  I sat down and began reading.  A wave of relief rushed over me.  I found exactly what I was looking for! (Unlike U2)  Whew, Hubby will be glad that I'm not going to have spend more money. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114801616412682916?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114801616412682916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114801616412682916' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114801616412682916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114801616412682916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/why-am-i-thinking-about-school-its.html' title='Why Am I Thinking About School?  It&apos;s Summer!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114789021617677387</id><published>2006-05-17T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-17T11:31:20.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kids</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Feeding%20the%20Ducks%3BMeme%20and%20Papa%27s%20023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Feeding%20the%20Ducks%3BMeme%20and%20Papa%27s%20023.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have really been missing my kids. I left town before they had even awakened last Thursday. They came up with Hubby two days later but I had been exposed to the "sickness" so we had to stay distant hoping they would not get it. We traveled apart - again trying to save them from getting ill. I didn't even tuck them in that Saturday night. We couldn't hug or anything. (Yes, I am a germ-a-phobe and if you saw how sick this Small Round Structured Virus makes a person, you would have had a phobia too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Late that night I got sick. So I was holed up in my room for two days. They were not allowed to even enter the room. Hubby was an excellent nurse and took very great care of me. Finally on Tuesday I felt strong enough to get up. But since this particular virus can still be contagious up to three days after the last symptom, we weren't taking chances. I kept them at a distance but it was SO HARD!!! I wanted to just hug the guts out of them and smother them with kisses. Today, being Wednesday, I'm still not giving kisses but I have given hugs. I'm missing them so much that I've just got to tell some stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Mister stood at my door the other night with the saddest (and cutest) expression. He said sorrowfully, "Mommy, I wish you could tuck us in. I just want you to give me kisses." Whaaaa!!! Me too, baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little lady has been a little comedian. She kept me entertained from the door of my room by doing hilarious dances and routines. She also has an incredible voice. My eldest daughter and I have very similar voices, very low and raspy. But Little Lady is quite different. The girl has been able to sing very high notes and on pitch since she was tiny! She has a erethral voice that sounds similar to Charlotte Church. Last night she actually decided to do a concert for me. It was beautiful. It was hard to believe that such a powerful voice was coming out of an eight year old. She usually gets too embarrassed when I'm looking right at her. But for some reason, last night she just belted it out and kept singing. I was mesmerized. It was incredible. I think I should get her in voice lessons - or maybe not. She's doing pretty good on her own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Miss has been an amazing help throughout all this! She has stepped up into the mothering role and helped assist her Daddy in taking care of the younger siblings. By Tuesday it was beginning to wear on her, so I took over from there. Yesterday she asked me to read my blog about Papaw aloud to her. I did it without crying. Then she asked if I could read the comments. I started to, but by the middle one tears started dripping. I told her I was sorry. She patted me and sweetly said, "That's okay Mom. It's alright if you cry." Precious girl. I'm glad she already knows it's okay to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you can understand why I'm missing them.  Tomorrow I'm kissing those sweet little cheeks, virus or no virus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114789021617677387?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114789021617677387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114789021617677387' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114789021617677387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114789021617677387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/my-kids.html' title='My Kids'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114756562994286113</id><published>2006-05-13T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-13T18:14:55.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The World Minus One Great Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: -moz-zoom-in;" alt="The image “http://www.alanbauer.com/images/Old%20Things/Roslyn%20cemetary%20iron%20gates%20in%20fall-Vert2.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.alanbauer.com/images/Old%20Things/Roslyn%20cemetary%20iron%20gates%20in%20fall-Vert2.jpg" width="391" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Grandpa died early Thursday morning. I was about 20 minutes away from the hospital when I got the call that he was gone. I cried good and hard those last twenty minutes. I've cried off and on ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't tell you everything He meant to me because I wouldn't have room on the page no matter how long it was. But I can tell you a few things. First and foremost, my life will never be the same. As my Grandmother so perfectly put it, "It won't be any fun around here." Papaw could tell stories. He could have us all laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. He told a few stories that ended with scaring the fire out of you at the end and then you'd be breathless again with laughter. No wonder I love stories so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite Papaw sayings were: "Well, law me!" and when I'd tell him I loved him he'd wink and say, "Well, I kinda like you, too!" wrapping his arms around me in a great big hug. Papaw was always handsome. He seemed to grow more attractive with age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was a pillar to me. I could never imagine life without him. I still can't. He'd tell my sister and me that he wanted us to sing at his funeral someday, and I'd tell him to stop talking morbid because I didn't want to think about it. We &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; sing at his funeral, today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Memaw and Papaw were married 67 years. That's longer than I've been alive. They loved each other dearly and have been an amazing example of what a marriage should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost my Grandfather, my Godly example, my encourager, my teacher but most of all, my friend. When C.S. Lewis' wife died, a friend told him, "Life &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; go on."  To which C.S. Lewis replied, "I don't know that it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt;, but it does."  I know what he means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114756562994286113?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114756562994286113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114756562994286113' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114756562994286113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114756562994286113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/world-minus-one-great-man.html' title='The World Minus One Great Man'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114731833846071115</id><published>2006-05-10T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T20:32:18.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My oldest daughter and I have been walking these last few weeks.  It's been a good early-morning connection.  We've had so much fun and I can tell she loves having me all to herself.  I'm a captive audience.  It's been good for me as well because I'm usually too tired at night to talk for long.  So, on our strolls, I can catch up on her private world.  One morning we even found a $10 bill.  Talk about benefits of walking! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I'm not having much time to post lately.  Hopefully I can catch up sometime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114731833846071115?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114731833846071115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114731833846071115' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114731833846071115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114731833846071115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/walking.html' title='Walking'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114686981182003814</id><published>2006-05-05T15:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T16:01:28.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>N-N-N-NO!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://thumb6.webshots.com/t/44/44/7/16/6/376271606EBajoA_th.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://thumb6.webshots.com/t/44/44/7/16/6/376271606EBajoA_th.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning about mid-morning I started feeling really dizzy. I ate something to try to relieve it thinking that I hadn't eaten breakfast yet. Finally I decided to lay down until it went away. Little Lady came into my room and asked what was wrong. I told her it was nothing but a little dizzy spell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dizzy spell? A dizzy spell?!! Yippee!!!! You're going to have a baby!!!!!" she squealed. Then she ran through the house cheering with glee and telling her other two siblings that I was going to have a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"N-N-N-NO! Honey, I'm NOT going to have a baby. Sweetie, get back in here!" I shouted. Finally she made her way back still jumping for joy. I couldn't help laughing at her enthusiasm. I had to inform Little Miss and Little Mister that their sister was, in fact, mistaken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally got Little Lady to calm down I asked her what made her think that I was pregnant just because I had a dizzy spell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's what happened to Ma on Little House on the Prairie. She was having dizzy spells and then she was pregnant!" She exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it.  No more watching Little House on the Prairie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114686981182003814?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114686981182003814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114686981182003814' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114686981182003814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114686981182003814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/n-n-n-no.html' title='N-N-N-NO!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114676935348174242</id><published>2006-05-04T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T12:11:50.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confused</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Last night our elderly neighbor lady came to our door wondering about her girls. She doesn't have any girls so I tried to clarify with her who she was talking about. She said it was her neice and nephew that she was watching. I asked her a few more questions and could tell she was confused. She talked to my kids sweetly as she always does and then told me if I saw the girls to have them come home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a step-father-in-law with Alzheimers, I was worried about her so I watched her walk back to her house and go inside. I began to wonder if her husband was at home and since I didn't want her wandering off I went over to check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband answered the door. I told him what had happened and that I wanted to be sure everything was okay. He didn't even realize she'd left the house. Then he told me that she was confused. They had recieved pictures of their granddaughters that day and for some reason she had it in her head that they were actually there. He asked me to come inside and talk with her awhile and reassure her that there were no extra children at my house. So I came in and visited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I had no clue that she was going through this. I'm not sure how long they've known she was ill. Having watched my Mother-in-Law tend her husband, I know that the caretaker gets very little rest. It's tiring to have someone constantly asking the same questions over and over. Plus the person with Alzheimers usually doesn't sleep well. Because of that it can be truly difficult for the caretaker to sleep restfully because they are worried their loved one will wander off. It's also difficult when the Alzheimer's patient gets something in their head that is not true but they believe it to be true. They are not easily convinced of the real truth. I am sorry for this sweet couple. They are precious people and I had wondered why I hadn't seen them out lately. I wish I would've checked on them earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping to be able to "sit" with her so he can have some time to himself. Or maybe just visit so he can talk with someone else. Pray for them. Pray for me to know how to minister to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114676935348174242?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114676935348174242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114676935348174242' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114676935348174242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114676935348174242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/confused.html' title='Confused'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114658181732410251</id><published>2006-05-02T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T11:13:59.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The journey is the destination</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The other night, Hubby brought home a movie for me to watch about the children in Uganda. To keep from being abducted and forced into the rebel army, thousands of children leave their villages every evening to walk to the city and sleep because there is more protection for them there. Thousands of children are crammed together on the floor of something like a garage parking lot without an adult in sight. Yet, these amazing children do their homework by candlelight and then fall asleep. They get up before dawn to start their journey back to the villages. They laugh. They dance and sing praising God because they made it another night without being captured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be honest, the night after I watched this movie I couldn't sleep very well. Here I worry about not having enough money to give my daughter an American Girl Birthday party or that two of my children actually have to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;share&lt;/span&gt; a room. I felt ashamed. It's continued to haunt me. I wish I could take those children and bring them into my house to be safe and have soft carpet to sleep on. It has definitely put things into perspective for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please check out the &lt;a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com"&gt;Invisible Children&lt;/a&gt; website. I also recommend another great book on this subject is &lt;a href="http://www.daneldon.org"&gt;The Journey Is the Destination&lt;/a&gt;. It's the journal of a young photojournalist, Dan Eldon, who also wanted to bring the world's attention to the problems in Africa. He was killed while doing it and his mother published his journal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114658181732410251?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114658181732410251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114658181732410251' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114658181732410251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114658181732410251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/journey-is-destination.html' title='The journey is the destination'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114651988297060435</id><published>2006-05-01T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T13:24:24.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woman Reading</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://www.lib.duke.edu/databases/images/girlread.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://www.lib.duke.edu/databases/images/girlread.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this exact picture hanging in my home. It was going to be thrown away by someone else when I salvaged it. One look at it and I was drawn in. I have enjoyed many moments of reading a book only to look up at the pretty woman in the picture doing the same thing. She stands for everything I want to be. She's a reader. She is elegant and beautiful. She's engrossed in the story. Needless to say when I found one that I could post online, I HAD to show it. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114651988297060435?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114651988297060435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114651988297060435' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114651988297060435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114651988297060435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/05/woman-reading.html' title='Woman Reading'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114611409421240418</id><published>2006-04-26T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T22:18:57.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Passion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have stated before how stories drive me. I have tried to understand why. The one common thing all stories have that impact me, is passion. I don't necessarily mean the love kind of passion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I found myself again watching one of my favorite movies, Peter Pan. It's not the Disney version but the live action version. (If you haven't seen it, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;highly&lt;/span&gt; recommend it. Although, due to some violent fighting, I don't let my younger children see it.) There is a scene where Peter Pan has been abandoned by all his friends except Tinkerbell. She saves his life and gives up her own. She dies in front of him and he is so broken. He lays her down, kneels beside her grabbing the dirt in agony, and then shouts, "Tiiiiiiiinnnnnnkk!!!". It is so moving. I know it's a fairytale but the pain is universal. His passion is what pulls at my heart strings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is another movie called, The Story of Us. It's about a marital struggle between a husband and wife. At the end, when you believe the relationship is lost there is a powerful scene where the wife turns to him and pours out her heart. She says that even if she wanted to start over she could never tell the "next guy" that their son looks like him. Or she could never say, "Remember when Julie threw up on the Washington monument?" She goes on referring to memories throughout their relationship. She ends it by telling him she doesn't want a divorce because she loves him. She says that while their marriage isn't perfect she can't imagine having anyone else with her but him. You hold your breath because his expression seems callous. But then he reaches for her and as they embrace he tells her that he loves her too and doesn't want to give up on "us". They both cry and I bawl like a baby EVERY time I see it. (I know, no surprise.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I don't just like sad moments, I love any moment that a passionate heart finally connects with another human being. I LOVE the moment when Miss Daisy finally breaks down and tells her chauffeur that he is her very best friend. Or when Rocky triumphs over an unbeatable foe. Or when the knight in A Knight's Tale wins the tournament in the hearing of his blind father. THOSE are incredible moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's because passionate moments are all around me. Like when my husband proposed and completely took me by surprise (it was HIS birthday, after all). I was so overcome with happiness that I, well you know, cried. Then I told him yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when my second daughter was born and they could not get her breathing.  She was whisked out of the room with "Code Blue" being shouted over the intercom while my husband and I held each others hands in silence; I couldn't breath. That moment the door shut without hearing one cry from my baby girl covered me in fear. Then a few seconds (what seemed like hours) later when I heard her scream loud and clear down the hallway, suddenly I could breath and sob at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or the moment when my husband said he felt led to start a church. It would mean great uncertainty for us but I felt like the girl in Titanic, "You jump, I jump."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment we found out his father had a brain tumor. They said it was cancerous and that he only had one year to live. He died one year later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment I realized that my tiny baby girl had blossomed into a beautiful Little Miss and it was time to have THE talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment my Little Lady asked me how to believe in a God she couldn't see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment when Little Mister made a picture of a girl. I commented on how pretty she was. He said, "I like them pretty. Like you, Mom!" And I melted into a puddle on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you not love story?  Life would be boring without passion, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114611409421240418?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114611409421240418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114611409421240418' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114611409421240418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114611409421240418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/passion.html' title='Passion'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114598203344999992</id><published>2006-04-25T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T09:20:33.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I had a realization last night that my little mister is really getting big.  Why am I just now noticing it?  Because he doesn't just let me kiss him whenever I want to anymore.  Now he starts to squirm away when I'm being too affectionate.  And it dawned on me last night that my time with that "little" one is moving on.  Now I don't have any more babies and I'm moving into the later stages of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just feeling emotional because my doctor told me last week at my thyroid checkup that I may be pre-menopausal.  What?!  ME?  I'm too young.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plus&lt;/span&gt; he added that I'd gained a good amount of weight in just ONE year.  I love it when the doctor is full of good news. :{&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to what I was saying, there was a storm last night blowing through our town complete with Tornado watch.  My little mister suddenly became "little" again.  He wanted me to hold him and snuggle him.  I cherished every moment and covered his cheeks in kisses until he asked me to stop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Warning for those of you with babies&lt;/span&gt;: In the near future, I may need to hold your little one and give 'em a few kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114598203344999992?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114598203344999992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114598203344999992' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114598203344999992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114598203344999992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/big.html' title='Big'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114567369046871520</id><published>2006-04-21T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T19:52:40.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Heartsjoy tagged me to tell six random things about myself.  So, here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I wanted a red-headed child but they're all blond as sunlight.  (Well, at least my husband is still red-headed.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm a germ-a-phobe. I don't care if I know you and love you, I'm still NOT going to drink after you (unless I'm dying of thirst since dying of germs would be irrelevant at that point).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My mom and my sister, being true extroverts, taught me how to greet people and small-talk with the best of them. But deep at heart, I'm an introvert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A pet peeve of mine is when someone is pretending to listen while they glance about the room. LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I get estatic about graph paper.  I LOVE to graph stuff like rooms of the house and change the furniture around on paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I still bite my nails even though I'm trying to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now I'm going to tag anyone reading this blog that would like to play this game.  You're it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114567369046871520?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114567369046871520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114567369046871520' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114567369046871520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114567369046871520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/tagged.html' title='Tagged!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114555424761319450</id><published>2006-04-20T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T10:35:22.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If - Then and Blessing Charts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Dentons%20012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Dentons%20012.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Dentons%20011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/Dentons%20011.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;These are my two charts (found them at &lt;a href="http://www.doorposts.net"&gt;Doorposts&lt;/a&gt;). One is the If-Then chart, which shows IF my children choose wrongly THEN this will happen. The other one is a Blessing Chart. When they exemplify good character throughout the week or if I've seen a marked improvement on something that previously was a struggle, they will recieve a reward on Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114555424761319450?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114555424761319450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114555424761319450' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114555424761319450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114555424761319450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/if-then-and-blessing-charts.html' title='If - Then and Blessing Charts'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114555334669449634</id><published>2006-04-20T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T10:15:46.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Mornings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I haven't written anything serious for awhile because I haven't wanted to.  I've had a bit of a rebellious heart.  God has been showing me how I've been "eating the bread of idleness".  I love to sleep, and I would much rather &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plan&lt;/span&gt; things than actually do the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;work&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm lazy.  I admit it.  And it's wrong.  So my conviction grew until I finally repented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where He prayed."&lt;/span&gt;  Mark 1:35  Jesus did that?!  Hmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"At daybreak Jesus went out to a solitary place."&lt;/span&gt;  Luke 4:42  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I love that word, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;solitary&lt;/span&gt;.  For me, it translates, "alone" and I love to be alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls."&lt;/span&gt;  Proverbs 31:14  My servant girls are my dishwasher, coffee maker, crockpot, oven, washer and dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation."&lt;/span&gt;  Psalm 5:3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is from the Message translation because I love how it's worded:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started."&lt;/span&gt; Proverbs 31:17  Eager?  Well, God's working on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting this last Monday, I've been getting up at 5:00a.m.  Shocking, I know.  But as much as I hate to admit it, this night owl is beginning to enjoy her mornings.  It's been such a jumpstart beginning my day with an hour to read, study and pray uninterrupted.  Then I'm wide awake and able to get completely ready from head to shoe (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;she dresses for work&lt;/span&gt;).  I begin my morning "workout" by swishing and swiping the bathroom before I leave it.  I rush to the kitchen and get my "servant girls" started.  I set the timer and hurry to tidy up all the hot spots that seem to collect clutter.  I run through the front rooms (kids are still sleeping so I don't want to go into their rooms yet) throwing away any trash and collecting things that belong in another room for the kids to put away. My blood is pumping now and I grab a load of laundry to fold or put into the washer.  I hurry to put clothes away.  I start breakfast and begin working on dinner.  By now it's time to get the kids up so I wake them and set the timer for 30 minutes while they do their morning chores.  I rush back to the kitchen to set the table then check on dinner and laundry.  I review my calendar to see what is ahead for the day and prepare anything needed for school.  By the time my kids come to the table I am ready for another cup of coffee and I rejoice that my morning "workout" is done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nothing short of a miracle for this sleepyhead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114555334669449634?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114555334669449634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114555334669449634' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114555334669449634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114555334669449634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/early-mornings.html' title='Early Mornings'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114537848419885325</id><published>2006-04-18T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T09:41:24.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Church</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;This video really struck me as what the church should be.  I love you, all my friends and blogging friends.  This is dedicated to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114537848419885325?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114537848419885325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114537848419885325' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114537848419885325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114537848419885325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/church.html' title='The Church'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114537498705028550</id><published>2006-04-18T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T08:45:10.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pink</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Okay, I believe that I have officially trumped &lt;a href="http://www.heartsjoy.blogspot.com"&gt;Heartsjoy&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.crazedmommyofthree.blogspot.com"&gt;Supermom&lt;/a&gt; on the hair fiasco. I have a new way of dying my hair. Instead of using regular dye, why not try Easter egg dye? Yes, you read it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was letting my children dye Easter eggs and they were very careful not to let any of it spill. We had foil underneath everything. Well, wouldn't you know it? As I was cleaning up, I spilled the hot pink color. It was on the table (yes, it stained but fortunately it was not my "good" table), on the floor (got most of it up) and all over my hands. Well, I must have unknowingly run my fingers through the back of my hair in a moment of frustration because at dinnertime Little Lady asked me why my hair was pink. "What?" I asked, thinking that surely she was joking. Nope! All my children agreed that I had pink streak running through the back of my hair. You know, it couldn't be in the front where it would look like I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;trying&lt;/span&gt; to be cool. It's in the back in a very obsure place. I frantically tried washing it out but it did not come out. So now I'm sporting around a sort-of pink "do". Well, it's fitting for springtime, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114537498705028550?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114537498705028550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114537498705028550' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114537498705028550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114537498705028550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/pink.html' title='Pink'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114503044813199105</id><published>2006-04-14T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T09:00:48.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Early this morning, I was able to be part of a prayer vigil &lt;a href="http://www.rethinkchurch.com"&gt;Rivendell&lt;/a&gt; was having throughout the night.  My hour was from 1:00 - 2:00a.m.  I was really excited about it.  It's not often that I get an entire hour with the Lord uninterrupted. The prayer room was set up with about five or six different stations.  It was all extremely moving.  This morning I feel refreshed, refocused and a bit mournful imagining how the disciples must have felt.  I'm glad that Sunday is coming for celebration but right now my heart is quiet and thoughtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114503044813199105?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114503044813199105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114503044813199105' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114503044813199105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114503044813199105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/prayer-time.html' title='Prayer Time'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114478134339939230</id><published>2006-04-11T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T11:49:03.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crybaby</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Does it come with age?  I have become the biggest crybaby!  I swear, a commercial comes on with a little sentimental flavor and tears start dripping off my face.  I find myself trying to hide it because my kids have caught on.  "Mom, are you crying over that?!"  "Yes, I am," I say sniffling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm watching a movie or reading a book, I cry at the tender moments, the sad moments, the climatic happy moments, the kissing moments and the restoring moments.  It's so ridiculous!   I've even been known to start crying while someone is telling me a story, right there in front of them!  How embarrassing.  Maybe it's just that I've hit middle age and I'm feeling everything deeper.  At least, I hope that's it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need a Kleenex,  sniffle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114478134339939230?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114478134339939230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114478134339939230' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114478134339939230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114478134339939230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/crybaby.html' title='Crybaby'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114468437464655125</id><published>2006-04-10T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T08:55:45.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Write Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This weekend my kids and I visited my parents who live about two hours away. We had such a good time. It was refreshing for me, like the Fellowship of the Ring coming from Rivendell. (Sorry, I just read &lt;a href="http://thebarefootpoet.blogspot.com"&gt;barefootpoet's&lt;/a&gt; blog so I'm in the Lord of the Rings mode.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about writing a lot lately. I have tried my hand at it so many times. I even went about six months sitting at the computer everyday for at least an hour to get a story of mine down. I've written articles and the like. But the only thing I've ever had published was a story I wrote in high school that my teacher sent off and it was published in a small youth booklet. I LOVE stories. They speak to me. I've said before that there are stories going on in my mind all the time. I re-work them at bedtime. But lately I've avoided putting them on paper. Don't know why. I wrote a fictional book once and I still have it tucked away in my "writer's briefcase". I've never sent it off. Everytime I read it I find something that I want to change. How do writers put their story on paper and then just leave it?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told about a man who asked C.S. Lewis how he wrote his books. C.S. Lewis said something like, "I see the whole thing in my mind and then I write it down." Incredible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing is harder for me than drawing. Maybe because I'm harder on myself in doing it. Art seems to be forgiving. Even if you make a mistake, you can creatively "fix" it. Writing seems so concrete. It has right and a wrong way. However, the content should be what releases me. I have a difficult time getting down on paper what I have in my head. Maybe I should just do like I've done with learning to draw. I could again devote a certain amount of time to it every day. Maybe my perfectionism is stopping me again. Thinking that if I can't do it perfect then I don't want to do it at all. My dad has inspired me. He has been writing a book about his time in service during the Vietnam war. He said he's thought about it for a long time but is finally putting it to paper. I'm so proud of him. I need to just take the leap and quit talking about it. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114468437464655125?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114468437464655125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114468437464655125' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114468437464655125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114468437464655125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/write-way.html' title='The Write Way'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114433855172627845</id><published>2006-04-06T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T18:14:15.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Outing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yesterday I thought we had an orthodonist appointment at 1:00.  We took off but when we arrived there we noticed that there was a significant absence of cars, as in, none.  I walked up to the door but it was locked and dark inside.  I went back to the car to check my calendar only to realize that the appointment is NEXT week.  Oh well, at least we didn't miss it.  So off we went to buy The Chronicles of Narnia DVD. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our favorite Thrift shop was on the way so we decided to stop.  The kids ran to the toy section while I began browsing the clothes.  As I looked through the clothes, I heard the woman working at the register talking on the phone to someone.  She was getting angrier as she spoke and louder at that.  Finally, the woman was so upset that she slammed down the phone.  She turned my way as if embarassed that I might have heard something.  I kept myself busy but I hurt for her.  She quickly called someone else who seemed to console her and I was glad.  I wondered what my role was in that moment.  She seemed to overt her eyes from me from that point on.  Maybe she was embarassed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we checked out she chit-chatted with me and I smiled at her.  I hoped that it might brighten her day a bit.  I wondered what more I could do.  Should I outright ask if she's okay?  She wasn't the lady that is normally in the store so I hadn't built a relationship yet.  But does that matter?  I walked out having just left a smile.  I hope that was enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114433855172627845?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114433855172627845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114433855172627845' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114433855172627845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114433855172627845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/outing.html' title='The Outing'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114416464367815098</id><published>2006-04-04T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T11:09:02.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little White House</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sunday afternoon, my family went for a drive and decided to check out a house a friend recommended that is up for sale. As soon as I saw it, I fell in love. It's like the dream house I've always wanted. It's a little Gingerbread house, as I call it. It's an older home with lots of character. The house was not open but we looked into the windows. The front porch was large the way I like it. The living room opened into the dining room with a dome shaped opening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kitchen was re-done and updated. It was adorable. Even the utility room was a cute little room tucked into the side of the house with pantry shelved walls. The backyard was quaint with large trees - a huge plus for me. Just down the street stood an awesome park. The backyard also held a great deck. There was a den downstairs in the basement with a fireplace. The garage had been changed into an apartment which would be great for helping with housepayments or maybe a Mother-in-law apartment. The only thing I didn't like about the house was that there was no garage. But I could live with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have adored these type homes ever since we moved into this town. I'm trying not to think about it too much. It's not like we need to move.  We have a great house already. I love my home. But it's fun to dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114416464367815098?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114416464367815098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114416464367815098' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114416464367815098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114416464367815098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/little-white-house.html' title='Little White House'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114408804864500174</id><published>2006-04-03T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T11:18:11.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soul Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I cannot tell you how excited I am to have this song video on my blogsite!! I LOVE THIS SONG! I have looked and looked for a way to have, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Uninvited,&lt;/span&gt; playing but could not figure it out.  My sweet sister explained how to do it and now I keep replaying it because I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can&lt;/span&gt;. Alanis Morrisette has such a powerfully, unique voice. I love her style (not a fan of all her songs but a lot of them). This song in particular has been a heart-song of mine for awhile. The way the song speaks to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; is that I am very uninviting of God. Yet He pursues me. I love the end of the song when she says, "I don't think you unworthy, but I need a moment to deliberate." I hope you enjoy it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the lyrics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Like anyone would be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am flattered by your fascination with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Like any hot blooded woman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have simply wanted an object to crave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But you, you’re not allowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You’re uninvited&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;An unfortunate slight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Must be strangely exciting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;To watch the stoic squirm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Must be somewhat heartening&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;To watch shepard meet shepard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But you, you’re not allowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You’re uninvited&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;An unfortunate slight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Like any uncharted territory&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I must seem greatly intriguing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You speak of my love like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You have experienced love like mine before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But this is not allowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You’re uninvited&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;An unfortunate slight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don’t think you unworthy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I need a moment to deliberate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114408804864500174?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114408804864500174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114408804864500174' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114408804864500174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114408804864500174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/soul-song.html' title='Soul Song'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114391292821815980</id><published>2006-04-01T09:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T12:23:59.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hospitality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've been thinking about Hospitality a lot lately. Now that &lt;a href="http://www.flylady.com"&gt;Flylady&lt;/a&gt; has entered my life, my home is not in the chaos it once was. So, I should be free to ask people over, right? Then why don't I? I LOVE getting together with my girlfriends for a Girls Night Out. I enjoy getting to know new people. So why don't I invite them over more often? Am I frozen again by that dreaded word, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fear&lt;/span&gt;?  Please!  Haven't I learned that lesson already?!  Why can't I just reach out and ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer: I don't know. I've been mulling it over in my mind so much these last few days that I'm wondering if it's conviction. Of course, I know that there are those times when I'm exhausted that I don't want to be around anyone; I just want to be alone! But that's not okay for every night. I could at &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;least&lt;/span&gt; set aside one night a week to merge into someone else's life, couldn't I? Isn't that Biblical? I re-read a blog from &lt;a href="http://rayzorbackfamily.blogspot.com/2006/01/how-to-keep-open-home.html#links"&gt;This One's For the Girls&lt;/a&gt; that inspired me. And yet, I am still sitting here and not calling anyone to set a date. My procrastination is bugging me. I know that half of doing it is simply planning it. So maybe I just need to get my calendar out and go for it! Any words of wisdom would be welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114391292821815980?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114391292821815980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114391292821815980' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114391292821815980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114391292821815980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/04/hospitality.html' title='Hospitality'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114376022700775495</id><published>2006-03-30T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T15:11:42.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jungle Fever</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Productive%20Play%20004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/400/Productive%20Play%20004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/Productive%20Play%20005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/400/Productive%20Play%20005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; I was doodling today with my lessons. I had fun playing around with all this color. Although, I think I need to invest in some really good markers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114376022700775495?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114376022700775495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114376022700775495' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114376022700775495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114376022700775495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/jungle-fever.html' title='Jungle Fever'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114373645275025840</id><published>2006-03-30T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T08:34:13.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Connecting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I felt restless this morning.  The morning was moving along nicely but my heart was heavy with several things.  Even as I read the Bible I wasn't connecting.  "God, I need you.  Please show yourself.  I need to hear from you."  I was flipping through the Bible trying to find a passage that would speak to me.  But finally I closed it because I had no idea what to read.  Isaiah 43 popped into my head.  Huh?  I opened my Bible to that passage.  This is what I read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But now, O Isreal, the Lord who created you says:  "Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.  I have called you by name.  You are mine.  When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you.  When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown!  When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.  For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Isreal, your Savior...You are honored, and I love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears of relief. Thank you God.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114373645275025840?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114373645275025840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114373645275025840' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114373645275025840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114373645275025840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/connecting.html' title='Connecting'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114361568074979317</id><published>2006-03-28T22:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T23:06:57.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Think Of You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Into the phone she spoke&lt;br /&gt;And told the fearsome news.&lt;br /&gt;The untrasound showed something wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Using the scale of one to four.&lt;br /&gt;Yours was a four plus.&lt;br /&gt;Dreaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot read.  I think of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No food tonight.&lt;br /&gt;They fear the worst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Everything is urgent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tomorrow under the knife you go.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps a lymph node too.&lt;br /&gt;Frightened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot sleep.  I think of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you think of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;She seemed like your sister&lt;br /&gt;More than your mother.&lt;br /&gt;They told her what they're telling you.&lt;br /&gt;Would God let this happen twice?&lt;br /&gt;Overwhelmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to pray.  I think of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does tomorrow hold?&lt;br /&gt;What have you told your children?&lt;br /&gt;I see mine sleeping and wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Where did you find the words?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;What are you thinking?&lt;br /&gt;Saddened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears are falling.  I think of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please pray for my friend tomorrow and her family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114361568074979317?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114361568074979317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114361568074979317' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114361568074979317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114361568074979317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-think-of-you.html' title='I Think Of You'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114356244086738184</id><published>2006-03-28T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T09:01:27.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drawing School</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well, my drawing school continues. I have been learning so much from the book I'm reading. In fact, while I was doing some of the lessons my eldest daughter came in and looked at my work. She said it was exactly what her art teacher had taught her. The more we talked we discovered that she's been going through these same lessons. She's ahead of me but it was fun "talking art".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been so consumed with drawing that I've been letting the Art of Homemaking go to the wayside. So last night I tided up and it felt good. I decided that I want to have art supplies in the kitchen but I also want the ability to put them out of sight. So I began cleaning out the cabinets to make room. Some of my cabinets were orderly but some were just a jumbled mess. My spice cabinets were pathetic. When I started sorting the spices I realized that I'd bought doubles because I couldn't see what I had. So I took them out, sorted them and stored them alphabetically in three different plastic shoe boxes. Yes, I had THAT many! No wonder that cabinet is always in shambles. I de-cluttered my baking dishes. I still have quite a few but I whittled down a lot. Then I attacked my plastic dishes with lids.  Man, those can get out of control in a HURRY!  I got rid of half of them because they didn't have lids or were damaged in some way.  It was nice to get so much cleared out.  Now I have a cabinet by my little desk that is cleared out and ready to put my art supplies in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started clipping "ideas" from magazines last night of things to sketch and put them in a little box.  Maybe someday I'll have files of things to choose from, but for now my little box will do.  Well, I need to go.  My children seem to be dragging their feet this morning.  I think we've been on spelling words for forty minutes! :)  I need to get the fire going under their tushies.  We've still got math and history to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114356244086738184?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114356244086738184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114356244086738184' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114356244086738184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114356244086738184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/drawing-school.html' title='Drawing School'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114340770207317536</id><published>2006-03-26T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T13:34:05.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Sketches</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20010.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20007.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20006.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20008.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20003.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/1600/First%20Sketches%20001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6686/1933/320/First%20Sketches%20001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Here are some of my first sketches. I haven't posted pictures before so bear with me. I had to erase my name while editing all of these thus the little white box in each of the pictures. First-timer's mistake I guess. I'll know better next time! This afternoon I am reading through &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0874778271/002-4295690-7150433?v=glance&amp;n=283155"&gt;Drawing with Children&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Creative Method for Adult Beginners, Too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; by Mona Brookes that Supermom (also an artist) graciously loaned me.  I am thoroughly enjoying it so far!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there are any sketching tips you'd like to give, fire away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114340770207317536?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114340770207317536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114340770207317536' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114340770207317536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114340770207317536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/first-sketches.html' title='First Sketches'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114334651653561408</id><published>2006-03-25T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T20:23:59.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sketching Crazy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Since I bought that sketch pad the other day, I have been a sketching maniac! My little mister told me today, "Mom, you are drawing EVERYTHING!" He's right. Anything standing still is fair game!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I even attempted to sketch my &lt;a href="http://www.heartsjoy.blogspot.com/2006/03/trying-to-go-from-eggly-to-swan.html"&gt;sister&lt;/a&gt;. When my kids saw it, two out of three guessed it was her. That's improvement. So far I've drawn: a window, a jar, a vase, a half-eaten cupcake, a Build-a-Bear, a Ken-like doll, Little Mister's shoe (It's his fault, he left it out), a candle, Little Miss (while she was watching a movie), Little Lady (from a picture - she and little mister won't sit still enough yet), flowers off of my kitchen wallpaper, pepper shaker (until the waitress moved it) and numerous other sketches that I've tried to duplicate from books. I'm having SO much fun!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114334651653561408?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114334651653561408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114334651653561408' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114334651653561408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114334651653561408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/sketching-crazy.html' title='Sketching Crazy'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19520368.post-114317466720793056</id><published>2006-03-23T20:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T20:35:25.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Encouraging!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I received this email today.  I just had to share this after my last &lt;a href="http://www.memoirsofaministerswirfe.blogspot.com/2006/03/loosing-perfection.html"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...reminded me of a study that changed my attitude about aging. It evaluated famous people throughout history from all walks of life and occupations (artists, statemen, writers, etc.) and ranked them according to the importance of their greatest accomplishment and the age at which that accomplishment took place. It was determined that 35% of the world's greatest accomplishments (as ranked by critics) were completed by people in their 60s; 23% were done by people in their 70s; and 6% by those in their 80s. In other words, 64% of the greatest accomplishments of all time have been done by people who are 60 or over!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Encouraging, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19520368-114317466720793056?l=memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/feeds/114317466720793056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19520368&amp;postID=114317466720793056' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114317466720793056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19520368/posts/default/114317466720793056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofaministerswife.blogspot.com/2006/03/encouraging.html' title='Encouraging!'/><author><name>LiteratureLover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793953709197830452</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
