tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57523503493366298672024-02-06T19:02:05.554-08:00Danese JoanDanesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-54365681522928042022017-05-21T15:06:00.001-07:002017-05-21T15:22:57.474-07:00My Lovely, Tangled, Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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I noticed the box next to the dumpster at work, a "present" left by one of our tenants. Of course I looked inside.<br>
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Ribbons, spools of ribbons, unraveling and intertwining, their colors mingling.</div>
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I walked back into my office, grabbed a bag, and pulled that cacophony of colored ribbons out of the box, creating an even messier array as I picked up the ribbons and their spools, putting them<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> into a plastic grocery store bag.</span></div>
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<i>(Treasures are everywhere, if only we keep our eyes open.)</i></div>
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It was a few more weeks until I took my camera and my rescued ribbons to another work site, where I also added the heart, a present from my daughter Amber years ago.</div>
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Concrete. A chain linked fence. Green grass. A perfect backdrop.</div>
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I turned 56 years old yesterday. </div>
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And you know what I've grown to love? The messiness of life. My own tangled life. How some of my craziest experiences have taught me to embrace life's imperfections and indicators - like the laugh lines on my face, sure signs that I am aging, yes, but alive- and smiling. </div>
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I am at a wonderful place. Humbled and mellowed by love. Surrounded by people who accept me for who I am.</div>
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Loved unconditionally by God.</div>
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A place to celebrate and know this-</div>
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The best has been, the best is now, and the best is yet to come.</div>
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By the way- </div>
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I am untangling those ribbons, one by one, placing them back on their spools. I look forward to tying them, in the future, on special gifts of love.</div>
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Thank you for the birthday wishes,<br>
the prayers,<br>
the large and small kindnesses,<br>
and especially, the love.<br>
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I love you. XO<br>
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Grammy and Harper<br>
<br>Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-37680940064148942882017-03-14T10:15:00.000-07:002017-03-14T10:15:43.080-07:00Love Finds Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Love arrives.</div>
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It appears at my door </div>
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without a shirt, </div>
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surprisingly inventive, </div>
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having no guile.</div>
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Not an object of my affection,</div>
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or careless whisper echoing back</div>
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of places I chose to forget.</div>
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I have a confession to make:</div>
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I don't know<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> how to spell.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Letters and words that went together before-</span></div>
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I plus- love- plus you,</div>
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Now appear gone forever.</div>
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So instead of words I choose </div>
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five tissue paper colors.</div>
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Black. Orange Red. Teal Blue. Pale Pink. Lavender.</div>
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With my hands I cut squares -</div>
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placing <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">them on the eraser of a pencil,</span></div>
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adding a drop of glue,</div>
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pressing them into place.</div>
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I bow my head in <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">silence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Listen closer. </span></div>
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Dive deeper.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Wait.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">An ancient melody arises within,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">fresh and new and unexpected.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Surprise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">True love finds me.</span></div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-54869108444106240472016-08-03T15:57:00.000-07:002016-08-03T15:57:27.720-07:00A Tale Of Two Shells<i>It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.</i> (Thank you Charles Dickens)<br />
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They started out together. Two pieces forming one whole.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">When I found them on the Florida beach, the separating had already begun. They sat, still slightly together, but now, wide open, suggesting change.</span><br />
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It was sunrise.<br />
I snapped a photo. Picked them up. Took them home.</div>
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They fell completely apart.</div>
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I stored them in my drawer, tucked beneath my underwear and socks.</div>
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A
few weeks ago I discovered them. I bought them out, feeling their
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the Sea.</div>
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"Listening is only the beginning."</div>
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I <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">took them to a special place, a walking trail, to remember.</span></div>
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There I made a wonderful discovery. </div>
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Placed together they formed a heart. </div>
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A heart with wings.</div>
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It has been over two years since my divorce, and I am continuing to heal. The aftermath has been grueling but also liberating. </div>
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I have learned to love myself, nurture myself, care tenderly and gently for myself. I extend the same patience and compassion I have tried to show others now to me, as I continue to recover from the devastation divorce brings.</div>
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There have been so many challenges, but the greatest one has been to resist closing down my heart for good. I have often imagined placing a "No Trespassing" sign at its door. Protecting myself from hurt in the future sounds reasonable and appropriate. </div>
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But...BUT, that would trap me in a world of isolation. I needed to go there to heal for a time, but I choose not to stay there. </div>
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I refuse to give up on love.</div>
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Reminders of the possibility of love find me in odd places. Like a cherry I was about to eat that looks like a heart, which I took to Valley Forge Park for a photo shoot. My daughter Lisa-Noel got quite the kick out of my subject as we hiked around together. (And yes, that's where the photo above came from!)</div>
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Then there was this poem. A reminder, that even when the world appears to be ending, love, quietly, prevails.</div>
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<i>In Time</i></div>
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<i>by WS Merwin</i></div>
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<i>The night the world was going to end</i></div>
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<i>when we heard those explosions not far away</i></div>
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<i>and the loudspeakers telling us</i></div>
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<i>about the vast fires on the backwater</i></div>
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<i>consuming undisclosed remnants</i></div>
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<i>and warning us over and over</i></div>
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<i>to stay indoors and make no signals</i></div>
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<i>you stood at the open window</i></div>
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<i>the light of one candle back in the room</i></div>
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<i>we put on high boots to be ready </i></div>
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<i>for wherever we might have to go</i></div>
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<i>and we got out the oysters and sat</i></div>
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<i>at the small table feeding them</i></div>
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<i>to each other first with the fork</i></div>
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<i>then from our mouths to each other</i></div>
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<i>until there were none and we stood up</i></div>
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<i>and started to dance without music</i></div>
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<i>slowly we danced around and around</i></div>
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<i>in circles and after a while we hummed</i></div>
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<i>when the world was about to end</i></div>
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<i>all those years, all those nights ago</i></div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-74157467624768897662016-03-26T18:26:00.000-07:002016-05-09T17:05:27.702-07:00Easter Arrival<div>
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The bedcover is pink and white, broadly checked, and when I pull it up to my neck at night in my new bedroom, I feel safe, secure, at rest.<br />
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It's taken me a long time to get here, but boy is my arrival here in Bethlehem sweet. <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Bethlehem, as in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, "The Christmas City."</span></div>
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The perfect place for a girl who loves all things Christmas to land...on her feet.</div>
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Thanks to those who have prayed for me in recent months...years, actually, as I saw my life change dramatically. </div>
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Tomorrow is Easter. </div>
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When I was a girl, I recall one Easter with special fondness. It was the Easter I flew a kite. A simple plastic one that you put a wooden stick in the back of in order to keep its wings extended. The wind caught it, just so, and I sat down on a grassy bank, holding the string, letting more and more out, smiling as it sailed up in the sky, bobbing and darting with the currents of the wind.</div>
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I think that may have been the Easter I ate most of my candy- bunnies, peanut butter eggs, a peep or two(maybe three or four!) in one day. Fresh air does make a girl hungry, after all.</div>
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Know what I love about flying a kite? That you have to run, holding it up at first with your hands, letting the string out, hoping for it to catch the magical currents of the wind enough to pull it up, as you're craning your neck, looking back as you continue to run forward, watching it ascend, and the joy, the jump up and down in your heart kind of joy as you see and feel the wind do what only the wind can as it takes the kite higher.</div>
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When Christ died on the cross the wind fell silent. Still. But only for three days and nights.</div>
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I look back now and I imagine I can see it, that mighty wind of the spirit breaking through, roaring, pushing away the huge stone at the mouth of the tomb as if it were a mere pebble. Then blowing gently into his nostrils and his mouth, God the Spirit, bending close, giving holy resuscitation. </div>
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I can testify to this. Resurrection is real. The wind is true. </div>
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So much in my life fell silent a couple years ago. But God's wind blew. Is blowing.</div>
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Definitely time to get out my kite!</div>
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Have a wonderful Easter, with Love, Always. XOXO</div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-29184468778779092872016-02-08T18:13:00.000-08:002016-02-08T18:13:04.726-08:00A Tribute To Gable<div>
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A big black dog.</div>
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When Amber told me she and John were adopting a greyhound, I wasn't sure what to expect. The first time I met Gable, in their small one bedroom apartment, I was shocked by his size.</div>
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Tall and lean. Towering over Lily, who isn't a small dog herself.</div>
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Knowing his background as a racing dog, I approached slowly, gently.</div>
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He backed away, anxious. </div>
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He followed Amber everywhere those first weeks. She wanted a companion while John worked the overnight shift, and Gaby provided that instantly.</div>
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I laugh remembering the first time I took him for a walk. He wasn't too sure of me yet, but once I held his leash and asked "Want to go for a walk Gable?" he happily let me put the leash on.</div>
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Out we went. Gable already appeared to have a certain route in his mind. When I tried to go a different way, he let me know, quite clearly. He stopped like a statue, not budging an inch, no matter how much I tried to convince him. </div>
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Needless to say, I went the way Gaby wanted to go, hoping I could eventually get him back to the house.</div>
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This became a pattern with us. We became close. He was my first grand dog. If he wanted to go out, I took him. If he wanted a treat, I gave it. </div>
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The joys of being Grammy.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Sadly, Gable spent the first years of his life mostly in a cage, being confined and probably abused with one goal in mind- human entertainment. Each pup in his litter was given a name based on a Clint Eastwood Movie. Gaby's official name was "Unforgiven." </span></div>
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I cringed when I heard that. Certainly not a name worthy of such an awesome dog- no way was he "Unforgiven." </div>
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That name was forgotten and replaced with a bunch of goofy nicknames like "Shibby" "Gablaroni" or "Awkward Jenkins."</div>
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In spite of his past, when Gable was given the chance to have a new beginning, he took it with an open heart. Amber said, almost immediately after getting him, he no longer wanted anything to do with his crate. Some greyhounds only feel secure in them, but Gaby appreciated his new found freedom, choosing to sleep instead on a comfy bed next to his parents.</div>
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The more pillows or blankets, the better for him. Greyhounds are so lean and bony, that having plenty of cushion helps them to be comfortable.</div>
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The morning of January 2nd I took Gable out for a walk. </div>
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On our way back to the apartment he did his sweet little prance. We walked in step together, as I stroked him between his ears and told him how much I loved him.</div>
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I didn't know it would be our last walk together.</div>
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I don't want to share the details of his unexpected death. It was painful for him and for Amber and John. And it was only the last few hours of his life. A life that touched so many.</div>
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Instead, I celebrate his life. The joy he brought to those who he embraced with his gentleness. </div>
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As I laid on Amber and John's couch looking up at the beautiful black and white photo Amber has of him on the wall, I thought of what Gaby taught me...</div>
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That if you have a chance for a do-over, a new beginning... Go for it, with all your heart.</div>
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Thank you boy. </div>
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Rest in peace. We will see you on the other side.</div>
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Lily and Gable were best friends. Taking them out to walk together was no small feat, but I loved doing it. We referred to them as "ebony and ivory!"</div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-51269117884942307942015-12-23T18:06:00.000-08:002015-12-23T18:06:02.037-08:00Fluttering Wings<div>
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<i>As I approach the manger, like the little drummer boy I wonder, what can I give? I have no gold, frankincense, or myrrh. I don't even play an instrument.</i><br />
<i>But what I do have are these words.</i><br />
<i>Humbly, I offer this story as my gift, to the baby Jesus, Saviour of the world.</i><br />
<i>And to his mother, who said yes.</i><br />
<i>For what child can be born without a mother? </i><br />
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<i> </i><b> *********************</b><br />
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<i>Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.</i></div>
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The sky was gone. </div>
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Replaced by a mist that wrapped itself around the evergreens, making them look like ghosts. </div>
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When the first movement came, it startled her, just a flutter, a feeling of delicately forming wings deep inside. Three days before Christmas.</div>
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The mist began to lift.</div>
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<b>*********************</b></div>
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The sky was steely grey, the air, cold and damp.</div>
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She returned to her studying, nestled in the back corner of the large campus library. The first snowflakes were descending outside, making it hard for her to concentrate, a welcome distraction as she struggled to conjugate the Spanish verbs which normally came easy. But now, there was this voice throwing a wrench into all of it.</div>
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<i>What if you’re pregnant?</i></div>
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She shook her head. </div>
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<i>Stop it, just stop it.</i> She’d been careful. She was always careful. </div>
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Except. </div>
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She drooped down further into the hard plastic chair.</div>
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Except for missing those couple days of her pills, the weekend she and Derek went away to hike and she forgot to bring them.</div>
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Her heart sank. But her hands went immediately to her stomach. </div>
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Her eyes glanced longingly outside.</div>
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The snowflakes grew larger. They started to stick all over the sidewalks, on the grass.</div>
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<b>**********************</b></div>
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The sky was pitch black, filled with stars.</div>
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The angel was huge, towering over Mary in a way that frightened her. She rubbed her eyes, shook her head, certain this was a dream, pulling up the light sheet that covered her to her neck. <i> Just roll over and go back to sleep.</i></div>
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But He remained. Looking down at her. The light from his clothing was so bright she could see it even with her eyes closed. </div>
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She got out of bed, stood in front of him. </div>
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He spoke.</div>
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It made her tremble. Deep inside. And she couldn't stop the shaking. Her heart quickened and grew larger with the angel’s words.</div>
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She simply bowed her head, said yes, and God gently hovered, planting His seed.</div>
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A shooting star fell just outside her window.</div>
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<b>***********************</b></div>
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The sky was dark with thunderclouds, hanging low.</div>
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His words were talons. Sharp. She fell to the ground beside his car.</div>
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“How could you be so stupid? Why didn't you tell me you hadn't brought your pills? I wouldn't have touched you.”</div>
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Softly, her head bowed, “I did tell you. You didn't listen. <i>You never listen.</i></div>
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“So now you’re gonna blame me?”</div>
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He was pacing, back and forth, anger in every stride. She never thought he'd be like this. She pulled her knees up to her chest, prepared for the next attack.</div>
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He looked up at the grey, heavy sky, shaking his fist. Raindrops started to fall.</div>
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“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! My brilliant girlfriend gets herself knocked up. I always said you were too smart for your own good.”</div>
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He kicked at some small stones with the toes of his converse sneakers. They sprayed all over her.</div>
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“You’re not considering having this kid, are you? Neither of us are ready for this Katharine. You know that right?”</div>
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This time she was the one not listening. Instead she was remembering. Her best friend’s warning. <i>This</i> <i>guy isn’t right for you. Too possessive. Too selfish. </i></div>
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She got up and walked away.</div>
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He got into his fancy car, the tires screeching as he turned sharply out of the parking lot. He didn't look back once.</div>
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But she did.</div>
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The dark clouds opened up and the rain came down, hard, drenching her.</div>
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<b>*************************</b><br />
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The sky was a brilliant blue with puffy white clouds.</div>
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When she awoke, she was changed. A song arose within her and it spilled out from her lips as she laid on her back, her face towards heaven, praising God for visiting her and blessing her.</div>
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Throughout the day her heart sang. Its melody reached her mother first. </div>
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“You must be excited to see Joseph tonight.”</div>
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She stopped sweeping, laid the broom aside, and looked at her mother, squarely. </div>
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A ray of sunlight blinded her temporarily. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes.</div>
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“Momma, I'm so excited! There’s something I need to tell you.”</div>
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Together they sat on the bench in front of their house.</div>
<div>
“An angel of God came to me last night Momma. He told me Yahweh chose me to bear His son. I believe I am pregnant by the Holy Spirit.”</div>
<div>
Her mother’s face was blank. </div>
<div>
She wasn't sure how to respond. Her daughter was engaged to another family’s son. This didn't make sense. She was level headed. </div>
<div>
“I’m sure you just had a very vivid dream.”</div>
<div>
Mary replied, boldly.</div>
<div>
“It was not a dream.”</div>
<div>
She shared the details of the visitation, hoping to see support on her mother’s face. Instead shock gave way to a strange discomfort, maybe even dismay.</div>
<div>
Her own mother didn't believe.</div>
<div>
The puffy clouds blocked the sun, but only for a moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>***************************</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The sky was pink as the sun hastened down towards the horizon.</div>
<div>
Her cell phone rang just as she was about to take a nap. She was exhausted lately. Typical of early pregnancy from what she read on the Internet.</div>
<div>
It was Derek. She considered not answering, still deeply wounded from their encounter a couple days before. </div>
<div>
“Hey.” </div>
<div>
She didn't respond.</div>
<div>
“You there? Hey, I'm sorry for the way I reacted the other day. I was just so blown away by the news. Can I come over so we can talk?”</div>
<div>
She was hopeful. Maybe he was taking responsibility. </div>
<div>
“Sure.”</div>
<div>
When he walked into her room she suddenly felt queasy. He tried to pull her into his arms and she stiffened. </div>
<div>
“Hey baby, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be fine. I love you.”</div>
<div>
She softened, leaned into his chest. He smelled woodsy and familiar, and as she looked up into his eyes she was mesmerized, their deep blue drawing her in. She didn't want to make this decision without him.</div>
<div>
Before she knew it they were naked, exploring the familiar territory of each other’s bodies. She was a virgin when she met him. He was her first love.</div>
<div>
The sun set, completely, and the sky grew dark.</div>
<div>
“I spoke with my parents. Told them about this situation we’re in.”</div>
<div>
She didn't respond.</div>
<div>
“We’re too young for this Katie. We haven't finished college, don't have jobs. I know I'm not ready to be a Dad yet. And I don't think you’re ready to be a Mom. You have grad school just ahead, and so much you want to do before having kids. Me too.”</div>
<div>
The queasy feeling returned. She swallowed hard.</div>
<div>
“They offered to pay for an abortion.”</div>
<div>
Tears came to her eyes. The same advice came from her parents. <i>Your future is so bright. You can have a child later, once you get your career going.</i> </div>
<div>
Of course. </div>
<div>
Her head told her they were right. She wasn't ready for this. Not at all. A close friend had an abortion a few months ago. She went with her, helped her afterwards. </div>
<div>
It was the best solution.</div>
<div>
“Okay.”</div>
<div>
They held each other for a while longer before he got up, dressed, and left.</div>
<div>
There were no stars to be seen in the sky that night.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<b>*************************</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The sky was early morning red. A warning.<br />
She missed her period. The seed was growing.</div>
<div>
Joseph was coming to see her later. He grew more uncomfortable in her presence. He wanted to believe her story, tried to, but he was only a man.</div>
<div>
She understood. </div>
<div>
Her own family questioned her constantly, just with their glances. Some in the community shunned her as she walked in the marketplace. Her family kept her close, afraid of the judgement that had already started in their own hearts.</div>
<div>
He sat down, holding her hand limply, like it wasn't even there.</div>
<div>
“I can’t be a father to someone else’s child.”</div>
<div>
“Not even God’s?”</div>
<div>
“Mary, every child is from God.”</div>
<div>
She looked up at him, placing her hand firmly on top of his.</div>
<div>
“Search your heart, Joseph.”</div>
<div>
He pulled his hand away, turning his face from hers.</div>
<div>
He heard thunder in the distance.</div>
<div>
“I have. The engagement is off. But I will do this as quickly and quietly as possible. I don't want to hurt you.”</div>
<div>
She tried to hold back the tears. He already had.</div>
<div>
She left. Practically running all the way to see her cousin Elizabeth.</div>
<div>
The angel made a second appearance. To Joseph.</div>
<div>
The storm blew in and lightning flashed, illuminating the entire sky.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<b>**************************</b></div>
<div>
<br />
The sky was charcoal.</div>
<div>
The delicate fluttering inside became stronger wings that pushed their way out of her womb and into the waiting world.</div>
<div>
Light appeared. </div>
<div>
She named her Dawn Marie.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<b>***************************</b></div>
<div>
<br />
The sky was twilight, and fireflies began to dance.</div>
<div>
She reached over, gently grabbed his arm, and pulled him away, just to the side of the tent that was set up for the guests at the wedding. The music continued as people danced, celebrating earnestly. </div>
<div>
She noticed. They were almost out of wine.</div>
<div>
Into his ear.</div>
<div>
“You must do something. They are almost out of wine, son.”</div>
<div>
A deep breath. A sigh. A shake of his head.</div>
<div>
“It’s not my time yet. I’m not ready.”</div>
<div>
She squeezed his arm, looked into his eyes with purpose. </div>
<div>
She knew better.</div>
<div>
“Yes it is.”</div>
<div>
Turning to the servants she said, “Do whatever he says.”</div>
<div>
They wisely listened to them both.</div>
<div>
The best wine was served last, a surprise to all who attended.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<b>****************************</b></div>
<div>
<br />
The sky was a pure Christmas white, beautifully wide open.</div>
<div>
Katharine and Tim found a couple seats towards the front. The auditorium was filling up quickly. </div>
<div>
She was nervous. How funny. </div>
<div>
He leaned close, squeezed her hand, and whispered in her ear.</div>
<div>
“She’ll do just fine.”</div>
<div>
She touched his face with her hand and kissed him gently on his lips.</div>
<div>
“Thank you.” </div>
<div>
The lights went out. The curtain opened.</div>
<div>
There she stood, all by herself, the microphone just in front of her. The spotlight illuminated her white dress, and the wings on her back sparkled. They had worked for hours getting all that glitter onto those wings. </div>
<div>
Tears welled up in her eyes. </div>
<div>
She held her breath as her daughter spoke. Her young voice, so strong and distinct.</div>
<div>
<br />
<i>O Radiant Dawn</i></div>
<div>
<i>by Christine Rodgers</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>What could possibly come from this?</i></div>
<div>
<i>An infant just hours old on a bed of hay.</i></div>
<div>
<i>Why the jubilation? Because the angels</i></div>
<div>
<i>knew that straw</i></div>
<div>
<i>would one day blaze</i></div>
<div>
<i>in a crucible of love</i></div>
<div>
<i>transforming You</i></div>
<div>
<i>into the mighty</i></div>
<div>
<i>Alchemist - the One</i></div>
<div>
<i>who would buy back</i></div>
<div>
<i>the entire world.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the brief hush that followed, Dawn found her mother’s face and smiled. She blew her a kiss just before the curtain closed, her wings fluttering as she turned.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Merry, Merry, Christmas<br />
with so much love,<br />
<br />
Danese XOXO</div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-61072599817372776732015-11-30T15:49:00.000-08:002015-11-30T15:49:44.106-08:00Ode To EphramAdvent begins.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBo2K-dDjHKrgEhn-KwICiJQlmMfKBaaFLRGX5C2lxdDd1SJLpify2blHl4pxDJk4z0XMNnc4c_PqF9IK7dH_4TCnOw1g7LpyPtq5yfq7Figwz9hxQ_ZXoYQWKbRtU-TL3VWFyYuI9VvlH/s640/blogger-image-588858867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBo2K-dDjHKrgEhn-KwICiJQlmMfKBaaFLRGX5C2lxdDd1SJLpify2blHl4pxDJk4z0XMNnc4c_PqF9IK7dH_4TCnOw1g7LpyPtq5yfq7Figwz9hxQ_ZXoYQWKbRtU-TL3VWFyYuI9VvlH/s640/blogger-image-588858867.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In some ways I feel it actually began on November 6, 2015, when a special little boy sent from heaven came to us.</div>
<div>
His name is Ephram Gabriel, my grandson.</div>
<div>
The first photo I posted on Facebook of the two of us included the phrase "Definitely love at first sight."</div>
<div>
I can now add love growing deeper at second sight and third sight and every time I behold his sweet little face.</div>
<div>
Like all newborn babies, he has managed to take over the lives of his parents. He demands attention.</div>
<div>
And we all lovingly give it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Ode to Ephram</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Definitely Love</div>
<div>
the first time I saw you cradled</div>
<div>
in your Mommy's arms, </div>
<div>
a radiant look of joy on her face</div>
<div>
reminiscent of my joy the first moments</div>
<div>
I held <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">her close to my heart</span></div>
<div>
28 years ago, where she always remains </div>
<div>
and now you are there too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I kiss her and scoop you</div>
<div>
up out of her arms, holding my breath</div>
<div>
as tears come to my eyes and I</div>
<div>
think, no I know, that I will</div>
<div>
never be the same<br />
for seeing your face changes me. </div>
<div>
You remind me of your Daddy, a man I love</div>
<div>
as a son, and your sister, my first<br />
grandchild who<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> now </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">gives you hugs and kisses.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I hold you, rocking you</div>
<div>
back and forth, back and forth</div>
<div>
singing hush little baby</div>
<div>
the hush is my own as your </div>
<div>
sleeping body fits snugly over</div>
<div>
my left breast, your tiny head in</div>
<div>
the hollow of my neck</div>
<div>
and all of life becomes clear</div>
<div>
in the breathing we do together.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Your name means fruitful. God is my strength.</div>
<div>
And I get a glimpse of you,</div>
<div>
a faithful gardener, bringing forth fruit</div>
<div>
apples and oranges and pears</div>
<div>
heavy on the trees you plant with your</div>
<div>
cries and in between, your silences.</div>
</div>
<div>
Your heart is full of seeds.</div>
<div>
The planting has already begun.</div>
Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-45698427099000152342015-10-19T15:25:00.000-07:002015-10-27T01:49:23.195-07:00Concrete and Wings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3grdOix5UMxv3ys3eCXtmkws9sGHVnmBMqI3OXMAtE1APPw2C-mSk-410_pDg549RIq_eaiMB3GMZmyUOrSgHgWlrH3djNBeVg_Wg7itqED9dmwAj4CASdFqyYMM0qM6bsIDImwNBoMI/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3grdOix5UMxv3ys3eCXtmkws9sGHVnmBMqI3OXMAtE1APPw2C-mSk-410_pDg549RIq_eaiMB3GMZmyUOrSgHgWlrH3djNBeVg_Wg7itqED9dmwAj4CASdFqyYMM0qM6bsIDImwNBoMI/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The photo made me smile from ear to ear.<br />
My granddaughter, laid out on a wide windowsill, blanket over her little body, pretending to sleep. Then came another.<br />
She was sitting on that same wide windowsill, playing with gel type Halloween decorations, and the light from the window illuminated her profile in a way that showed her beauty as she embraced so simply her moments there, looking outside and hearing her own unique voice inside. A voice that said <i>I like this spot and I want to be here.</i><br />
My second grandchild, Ephram, is due on November 5th. I can't wait to meet him.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My heart feels so full lately I think it might burst.</i><br />
<br />
At the start of 2015 I began a new journal, affectionately calling it <i>My Flight Journal.</i> This year has certainly been one of stops and starts and winged adventures in between challenges and uncertainty.<br />
<br />
As I now approach the end of this year, I am getting ready for my final flight out of my former life, a life that was lovely and immense, intense and hard, where my primary roles of being wife and mother beguiled me and took precedence, most of the time, over my own needs.<br />
<br />
I have no regrets. Only a heart filled with thanksgiving for what has been, and what will always remain.<br />
<br />
Now, like my beloved granddaughter, I lay on the windowsill of my home of 13 years, but only for a little while longer. I have slept more nights here than anywhere else my entire life. And I am preparing to say goodbye.<br />
<br />
In preparation, I have been clearing out my basement, sorting and purging, reliving moments of my own as well as of my children. It's sad at times, but mostly a joy.<br />
<br />
There are Dale's music books and Amber's vintage fabrics and Josiah's Star Wars toys and Chad's stuffed animals and Rebekah's soccer trophies and Lisa-Noel's lunch box collection. I find myself laughing often as photos or other memorabilia remind me of the fun we have shared here.<br />
<br />
Here has been a good place.<br />
<br />
Here is the nest my babies flew off from.<br />
<br />
And now, so will I.<br />
<br />
In a card I wrote to myself back in January 2014, I called this house an unusual dispensation. A divine provision for me to strengthen my wings and believe in my wings. I am grateful more than words can convey for this physical place.<br />
<br />
Beloved pets are buried in the back yard. Two now huge lilac bushes, gifts from my kids, will bless the next occupants. I am praying for that next family who will live here.<br />
<br />
I've been asked this question a few times...<br />
<br />
"Do you know where you are going?"<br />
<br />
No. No idea...yet.<br />
<br />
But I see and feel Concrete. My feet are on Concrete. Concrete poured in my childhood in the basement of a Mennonite church. Concrete made clear in the form of the Nicene Creed. Recently that has been the topic of our Adult Forum class at church. I love how Dr. Paul, our teacher, shared that it is often out of our murky human circumstances that something beautiful arises.<br />
<br />
Concrete that gives me the surest foundation imaginable, and is never dependent on a physical place.<br />
<br />
It seems ironic to talk about concrete and flight together, doesn't it? But the paradox is true. That concrete has enabled me to lift off with my wings whenever I needed to. For example:<br />
<br />
My wings helped me reduce a tax debt from 2012 with the IRS by several hundred dollars.<br />
My wings enabled me to provide health insurance for me and my three youngest children.<br />
My wings helped me find a new car after mine was totaled in an accident in July. Not ironically my new car, a spiffy little black 2007 Mazda3, has as its symbol Wings!<br />
My wings gave me courage in two courtroom situations, to plead my case- and win.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My Wings give me inner vision and crystal clear direction. The concrete enables me to stand firm.</i><br />
<br />
From that concrete I will use my wings to fly to my new nest in 2016. A new season of my life begins, and my single prayer is only that God will continue to use me to share that love bursting forth from my heart..<br />
<br />
I appreciate your prayers as I prepare for lift-off!<br />
<br />
<br />
I wrote this poem September 28, 2015, and wanted to share it here. The words are also written below.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><u>October</u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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The wind blows, cool and crisp</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
rustling my long brown hair</div>
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its tendrils flying high</div>
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with colorful leaves</div>
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as I traverse the bank of the river</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's raining.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Leaves,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Seed pods.</div>
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Pieces of sky.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Henny Penny- the sky is falling</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Don't you see it on your head?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The hawk lands</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I feel his talons</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
dig into my skull</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
electrifying my scalp</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
He stays. Perched. Ready.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My neck strains with his weight.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
River's rushing waters call,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>"Go deeper. Go deeper. Don't wait!"</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The hawk sees it, exactly.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
He flies up, taking clumps of my hair</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Soaring</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
until he chooses the right moment</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and the correct angle</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
to descend</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
cleanly piercing the surface </div>
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of the water.</div>
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He astounds me. I gasp with pure delight!</div>
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Back up he flies</div>
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the water dripping from his wings</div>
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like tears upon my face</div>
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My hands are ready, cupped.</div>
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He drops his treasure.</div>
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I catch it.</div>
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One smooth black stone. </div>
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By the way.... Did you see the smooth black stone up above???<br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-46446853880419476342015-07-21T16:06:00.000-07:002015-07-21T16:06:50.690-07:00FaceTime<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My morning usually begins with the familiar and welcome sound of FaceTime ringing on my ipad. Within seconds, after touching the accept button, I see...connecting... connecting, and there, in seconds, appears this sweet face.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harper turned a delightful 2 years old on June 30th.</span><br />
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This morning I brought up the topic of "free range parenting" with Amber, a new term I recently heard. We chatted as I watched my granddaughter in almost constant motion. Having raised six kids myself I chuckle at all these new ways to describe parenting, and Amber and I laughed at the idea of defining yourself with such a term. I liked her definition of parenting:<br />
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Survival parenting.<br />
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I completely agreed.<br />
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Meanwhile, Harper continued to freely roam the living room, the kitchen, and her bedroom. Her Mommy and I following along as she wondered.<br />
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And as I watched a couple videos Amber sent me later of Harper repeating her ABCs, cooperating for a few letters, stopping when she'd had enough, I know what her choice is. Definitely.<br />
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It's free range all the way. She is Batman, after all.<br />
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Can't imagine a better way to start each day!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-1375192146164999152015-05-31T16:44:00.002-07:002015-05-31T16:44:26.381-07:00The Sturdy Tree<i>I dedicate this post to women- past, present, and future- who refuse to give up, call it quits, or hide who they are, no matter what storms they face. The forest of your Sturdy Trees is a testimony. </i><br />
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The tree had its beginnings like all trees do, in the form of a seed, joined with a sister seed in a whimsical green pod that looked an awful lot like wings. It was attached by the smallest of stems to the mother tree, and without even a goodbye the wind caught it one spring day, sending it pirouetting through the sky, twirling and dipping until it gently landed, eventually, in a field.<br />
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There, it waited, patiently.</div>
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The sun grew warmer, causing wildflowers to spring up all around, drying the pod to a crackly sandy brown. It disintegrated and became chaff, releasing the seed to tumble downward and land, with confidence, onto the dark brown soil called the earth. </div>
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Many seasons came and went.</div>
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The tree grew large. The tree grew strong. The tree grew sturdy.</div>
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And a mighty wind blew against it.</div>
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<i>Hurricane</i></div>
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<i>by Mary Oliver</i></div>
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<i>It didn't behave</i></div>
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<i>like anything you had</i></div>
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<i>ever imagined. The wind</i></div>
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<i>tore at the trees, the rain</i></div>
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<i>fell for days slant and hard.</i></div>
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<i>the back of the hand</i></div>
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<i>to everything. I watched</i></div>
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<i>the trees bow and their leaves fall</i></div>
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<i>and crawl back into the earth.</i></div>
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<i>As though, that was that.</i></div>
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<i>This was one hurricane</i></div>
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<i>I lived through, the other one</i></div>
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<i>was of a different sort, and</i></div>
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<i>lasted longer. Then</i></div>
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<i>I felt my own leaves giving up and </i></div>
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<i>falling. </i>The back of the hand to</div>
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everything. <i>But listen now to what happened</i></div>
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<i>to the actual trees;</i></div>
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<i>toward the end of the summer they</i></div>
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<i>pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.</i></div>
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<i>It was the wrong season, yes,</i></div>
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<i>but they couldn't stop. They</i></div>
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<i>care. And after the leaves came </i></div>
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<i>blossoms. For some things</i></div>
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<i>there are no wrong seasons.</i></div>
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<i>Which is what I dream for me.</i></div>
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Hurricane force winds. Torrential soaking rains. Flash flood waters.<br />
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But the Sturdy Tree remained.<br />
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Steadfast yet changed.<br />
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Resolved to produce leaves again...<br />
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And produce leaves, it did.<br />
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It does. It will.<br />
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Leaves of glistening gold.<br />
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<i>The season is never wrong. My dream, your dream, lives.</i><br />
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<b><i> Outside stands the dream...</i></b></div>
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On May 20th I celebrated my 54th birthday. Here are a few highlights:</div>
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Had an awesome vegan birthday carrot cake prepared for me by my daughter Lisa-Noel.</div>
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Went to dinner and gorged on Mexican food with my girls.</div>
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Went to Amber and John's for a "gender reveal" party, where, surrounded by family, I learned that my second grandbaby, due in November, is a boy!</div>
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Celebrated Pentecost Sunday at church, where I first caught sight of the Sturdy Tree.</div>
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Read Dale's sermon for Pentecost and had a spirited conversation with my son about the inspiring words of Romans Chapter 8. <i>There is therefore now no condemnation...</i></div>
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Traded a stranger for some equipment to set up my very own black and white darkroom (coming soon- fall 2015). If you'd like to see some of my digital B&W work, please click on the link <a href="https://openpassage.wordpress.com/photography-2/">here.</a></div>
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And in a dream, I saw the roots of the Sturdy Tree growing deeper, even as I slept.</div>
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Those roots, four generations strong...<br />
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-39114789890627205742015-03-18T17:37:00.000-07:002015-03-18T17:37:10.052-07:00Glistening Moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Snow melting, water running, puddles forming, and the sun doing what I love best about it- shining on it all, touching the ripples of the rushing water.<br />
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It glistens, making me shield my eyes for a moment. I forgot to wear sunglasses on this walk, but I'm glad I did. The effect might have been lost on me had it been darkened by them.<br />
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The rest of my walk I keep thinking about Moses.Yes, Moses. And the one line in the familiar story of the burning bush about how he stepped aside to see this unusual sight.<br />
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The sight of a glistening bush.Was it burning? Or was it just glistening, catching his eye, enough that he decided to veer off his usual path and take a look?<br />
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And there, God spoke to him.<br />
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I find God speaks in unusual ways in my own life as well, when I am willing to stop, look, and listen.<br />
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A couple days ago I made a trip to West Chester, PA to return my son Chad to college after he had been home for spring break. It is hard for me to believe my fourth child will soon be a college graduate.<br />
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What a reminder of how quickly time flies- and how necessary it is to stop, look, and listen.<br />
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I stopped in to Trader Joe's on my way back, along route 202, to pick up a few necessities- which the cashier remarked about- dark chocolate almond bars and soy creamy ice cream. He assumed I was preparing for a tasty snack later- and he was so right.<br />
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But first I decided to veer off 202, only about a mile, to visit one of my favorite places- Valley Forge Park. It had been too long- since being there, since taking a random hike in the woods, since having a little adventure beyond my normal day to day work routine. It was getting late, about 6pm by this time, but with daylight savings time officially in effect, I knew I had enough daylight left to explore.<br />
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I consider this to be a thin place ...a place where I feel there is less space between heaven and the earth. So once I entered the boundaries of the park, I felt joy just to be there.<br />
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My hike was short, probably about a half hour long. But it was full of glistening moments.<br />
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Did I hear God speak out of a bush? No.<br />
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But I came upon five deer unexpectedly, who stood silently observing me with their beautiful brown eyes as I passed. I found a split open tree branch and allowed my fingers to feel its wounds, raw and exposed, a testimony to its life. I stood at the edge of a pool of water, watching the light play upon its surface as I remembered my other visits and hikes at this beloved park.<br />
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Lent continues. The wilderness brightens, and glistens.<br />
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I stop. I look. I listen. And I wait, with firm hope.<br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-39760960994990172202015-02-26T15:24:00.001-08:002015-02-26T15:24:25.667-08:00Coming Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For days now, during the season of Lent, I have asked God this question.<br />
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"How do I find my way home?'<br />
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And then...just like Dorothy...I realized I always had the way home. There, on my feet, were my own ruby red slippers and three click, click, clicks of my heels later, I magically returned home.<br />
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Here.<br />
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This is the blog where it all started for me, where my insane need to allow words to leak out started. And leak they did. Just a trickle here and there, but this is where the flow began.<br />
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A flow meant to continue here now.<br />
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Lent is a time for digging.<br />
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I love to dig. with a shovel- out in my gardens. And even shoveling snow, something I have been doing frequently here lately in the northeast, holds a certain charm for me.<br />
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Tools. Shovels. Hammers. Invaluable for certain tasks that would be impossible otherwise.<br />
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I had a winter dilemma a couple weeks ago. A storm came through that started with snow, turned to ice, and then became rain. I went out to survey the sloppy, slippery, mess and to shovel. This was not a day I enjoyed that task until I saw the water pooling at the base of my driveway. I went down to observe.<br />
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I found the problem. The drain to the side of my driveway was blocked by a huge mound of plowed snow. The water was trapped. Here was a problem I knew immediately how to solve, so different than some of the others in my life.<br />
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Back into the garage I went, retrieving the heavy duty metal shovel. I used the snow shovel first, but when it got down to the crusty icy layer of snow, that metal shovel was just the tool I needed. I plunged, with all my strength, the pointed edge of it down into the blockage, several times, until it gave way.<br />
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At first there was just a little open space on the grates of the drain, but the water began to find its way down. I then realized I needed another tool. A hammer. There was ice lodged in the grates that the shovel blade couldn't reach.<br />
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The hammer was perfect. Bang. bang, bang. Piece by piece the ice fell. The water could now flow freely.<br />
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No more water at the base of my driveway.<br />
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Christ was lead into the wilderness. For forty days and forty nights. The Holy Spirit used a shovel- fasting, isolation. A hammer- temptation. Preparing Jesus for his ministry.<br />
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Each of us faces those wilderness times in our lives, maybe many times over. The pain of the digging and the shattering doubles us over, revealing things to us that we would rather not see.<br />
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But there is purpose, so much purpose. It is all preparation.<br />
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My departure from home was necessary and fruitful. Open passage was a time of exploration and escape. I hope you will check out some of my work there through the link on the sidebar.<br />
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But Wow!!! It's great to be home.<br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-70146495010176519322013-08-11T14:00:00.000-07:002015-02-26T08:37:02.705-08:00Introducing My New Blog / More Harper PhotosOn August 1st I introduced a new addition to my writing family... my new blog- Open Passage! <a href="http://www.openpassage.wordpress.com/">www.openpassage.wordpress.com</a> (I am so excited!!!)<br />
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Why start a new blog? Why not go in a new direction here instead?<br />
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As I have alluded to in some of my recent posts, I have felt a leading to share the stories of others. To best describe my idea for "Open Passage" I offer you this quote from my Welcome page there:<br />
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"The concept for this blog, like so many other things in my life, is a process of discovery. It feels similar to being presented with a brand new baby whose future remains a mystery. My job is to nurture and help this child grow, without defining who she is meant to be."<br />
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I hope you will check it out, become a follower, and leave a comment now and then when something really makes you think.<br />
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This blog (home, sweet, home) will continue to be the place I share my personal stories and photos. With, of course, plenty of updates on my favorite new role in life- being a grandma!<br />
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This precious little girl has all of us wrapped around her delicate little fingers. I am enjoying every moment!Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-44396314660897986352013-07-05T18:20:00.000-07:002013-07-05T18:20:41.118-07:00Harper is Here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>I am at the first ultrasound, gasping when she comes into view. Amber and John refer to her as their "gummy bear" for that is how she looks, being formed in that secret place of her mommy's womb. I have the black and white photo of our little gummy bear on the refrigerator.</i></div>
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<i>Her heart beat is strong, sure. And so begins the intertwining of her life and mine, granddaughter and grandmother, and I wonder, "what will she be like?" The little gummy bear grows, visibly, month by month, and so does my excitement and anticipation.</i></div>
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<i>Seeing the beauty on Amber's face, the blossoming of her body, the weight of life on this woman, bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh, is sometimes painful, but it is a dull pain that leaves my heart when I foresee the joy she will have in receiving and helping her own daughter grow. She is so strong and I am incredibly proud. </i></div>
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<i>The due date comes and goes. Saturday, June 29th. Amber and John are waiting. Contractions start and stop, increase and decrease, the birthing process begins and there is no predictable sequence or way it happens, only an unfolding as a baby girl begins her descent, letting go of her own secluded world to enter another which she knows so little about, or maybe everything about. Still she comes.</i></div>
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<i>And that gives me hope.</i></div>
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<i>In recent weeks her life force has awakened me at night. I can feel the movement as she hovers, between womb and world, her seismic tremors resonating through my being. She is bold and insistent. She will not be stopped.</i></div>
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<i>I am glad. </i></div>
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<i>And then, the call. Amber's water has broken, they are on the way to the hospital. I meet them there, and for the first time I am in a birthing room and am not the one about to have a baby. The gummy bear who is no longer a gummy bear will arrive soon. I remind myself to breathe as I prepare to help my daughter give birth. I am trying not to show how scared I am. When the pains begin to increase she looks at me, crying softly, afraid. </i></div>
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<i>Tears come to my eyes. She sees. I know this pain, and I know the joy looming ahead. She chooses to have an epidural and I feel relieved. We all rest. It's beautifully quiet, serene, and I sit there watching a soon to be Mommy and Daddy nap in preparation for the biggest event of their lives. The peace in these moments is tangible. I pray and thank God, and I again feel the tremors of her presence.</i></div>
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<i>She will not be, must not be, stopped.</i></div>
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<i>Time to push, bear down, I see the head, I giggle like a little girl when I see she has black hair. As soon as she emerges. only a moment in the Doctor's hands, she lets out her cry. It is bold. I expect no less. She proclaims "I am here!" We all cry, welcoming this new life into our families.</i></div>
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<i>Her name.... Harper Edith Moralis. Born to her Mommy and Daddy, Amber and John Moralis, on June 30th, 2013 at 4:33am. 8 lbs 7 oz, 21 1/2 inches long.</i></div>
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The day after Harper's arrival home:<br />
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When my daughter Amber called at 5 this morning, I knew she probably just needed my presence and reassurance as she struggled to get Harper to nurse. Breastfeeding is challenging those first few days. Honestly, every part of being a new Mommy is challenging, and I was happy to make an early morning trip to see my granddaughter and comfort my daughter, who is doing an incredible job of transitioning through this new and huge threshold of her life.<br />
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Harper was not latching on properly, but with some continued perseverance she finally did, and then the milk came in so quickly that she took a huge gulp, coughed, and went into this drunken sleep. We tried to wake her up, knowing she needed to eat, but she just snoozed.... so we took her adorable jammies off and I held her in my hands in front of me, and for the first time she opened her eyes and looked up at me as I was talking to her, and she saw me.<br />
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It took my breath away, made my heart skip a beat. My granddaughter was seeing me, trying to focus on my face, and I was enthralled by her gaze.<br />
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Soon she was back at her Mommy's breast and Amber was asking me "Did you have a hard time at first too Mom?"<br />
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Oh, did I have a hard time! Dale was born in an old military hospital where the pipes came on for the heat at night which made this incredible banging noise all while Dale was screaming because he was hungry because my milk hadn't come in yet and it was the middle of the night and I was so very exhausted and my baby had scratched his face all up and I really, really, didn't think I could do it...<br />
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But I did.<br />
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As I shared my story I could see Amber relax. I also told her I had many other moments in the weeks following Dale's birth when I thought "I can never do this again!" It was so damn hard being a Mom, the most difficult thing I had ever done thus far, even though I had been to US Navy boot camp- which up until that time I had considered pretty challenging. Boot camp was only 8 weeks... this Mommy thing, it was a lifetime commitment.<br />
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Most people see me as a good mother, including my daughter, but wanting to be a good Mom does not mean I achieved it all the time. There were (are still) real moments when I want to give up. Lots of times I've messed up. Everyone does. Sometimes we paint this unrealistic picture of motherhood for each other and ourselves that we can't possibly live up to. After all, we are painfully human, and with any great human endeavor there is a dark side, a struggle. Talk to enough Moms honestly and it happens to everyone, whether verbally expressed or not. We all have moments of wanting to give up, walk out, throw in the towel.<br />
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But we don't.<br />
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So now I have the privilege of helping my little girl embrace the joys and the sorrows, the victories and the frustrations, that all make up the wonder of motherhood.<br />
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I sat rocking Harper, back and forth, back and forth, while Amber laid down to sleep, just like I used to do 26 years before for my daughter. I reluctantly placed Harper in her crib, sat and talked with John. I can see what a wonderful Daddy he is, a supportive and attentive husband. My heart feels so full it might burst.<br />
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Indeed it might, for it is only the beginning!<br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-38483246043796685912013-05-20T10:54:00.000-07:002013-05-20T10:54:01.269-07:00Birthday ThoughtsBringing back the title of this blog to the simplicity of my name seemed right today in honor of my 52nd birthday. Changing the template and background to something bright and light is also symbolic of how I feel, that the year ahead will be one of great goodness and mercy, a place with a smoother path and clearer skies. If you have been reading along with me the last couple years, you know that there have been some dark places I've had to visit and revisit, suffering seemed (at times!) to be my best friend, and everything in my life felt like it was falling apart. Life's journey is so unpredictable- and, of course, being a middle aged menopausal woman certainly added to my internal need to find and create change that would simply make me happy.<br />
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So I have made some changes, started college, and opened myself up to all the possibilities....<br />
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And as I shared with my husband Terry a few days ago, I am choosing to enter this next year of my life being honest with myself, with him, and with the world. No more hiding. And it feels pretty darn good.<br />
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A couple weeks ago I caught one part of the movie "V for Vendetta." As Natalie Portman's character reads the story of a fellow prisoner while she herself is in prison, one powerfully beautiful quote from that story left a deep impact on my heart:<br />
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"Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free."<br />
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And not ironically, once at that place of honestly, a place I couldn't even see before, I found hope. I came home.<br />
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My first semester of college is over and I am proud to report I did very well! Starting in June I will be doing weekly blog posts to introduce you to some of the amazing writers I met during this semester. One of the papers I did for my writing class was titled "Women Writers Resisting Oppression." The women I featured in this paper blew me away, literally! Sharing my own story has been good and necessary, but I want to use my gift of writing to also share the stories of others in the future.<br />
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A poem I wrote while sitting outside on a beautiful spring day at Temple University, 4/9/13:<br />
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<i>Migration</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Is flight up</i><br />
<i>or down?</i><br />
<i>A means to</i><br />
<i>get from</i><br />
<i>here to there,</i><br />
<i>or somewhere</i><br />
<i>else?</i><br />
<i>Maybe it doesn't</i><br />
<i>require any</i><br />
<i>movement, flapping</i><br />
<i>of the wings</i><br />
<i>but is found</i><br />
<i>in stillness.</i><br />
<i>Breathe. Exhale. Inhale.</i><br />
<i>Jump in, descend</i><br />
<i>gain courage</i><br />
<i>reach the bottom</i><br />
<i>push off and</i><br />
<i>fly back to</i><br />
<i>the surface</i><br />
<i>Wet, Clean, Ready</i><br />
<i>to migrate again.</i><br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-10039555163182906182013-04-15T17:47:00.001-07:002013-04-15T17:47:55.864-07:00A Baby Shower for HarperBaby showers are so much fun, especially when that shower is for your first grandchild! We had Amber, John, and baby Harper's shower on Saturday, a beautiful spring day. With the help of family and friends we let Harper know she is being welcomed into a world full of love....<br />
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She will also be a very well-dressed baby! Thanks to all our family and friends for being part of such a special occasion.... and for being so generous.<br />
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Amber's due date is June 26th- so only a couple months before Harper's arrival. We are so excited!!! </div>
Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-86519652255333624362013-03-14T18:16:00.001-07:002013-03-14T18:19:06.035-07:00Spring Break<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hard to believe that I have reached the halfway point of my first semester of college! No, I am not spending spring break partying.... haha..... though the idea of visiting sunny Florida to soak up some sun certainly sounds appealing, especially after Terry and I took Lily for a walk that included a cold headwind this afternoon. Even with the cold I found myself out today in a nearby wooded area hiking through trees, snapping pictures, and listening for God.<br />
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I wasn't disappointed.<br />
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As a little girl I spent lots of time in the wooded area behind our home. It was a safe haven, my own space, a magical place where I searched for the mysteries of life amongst the fallen tree branches and brown crunchy leaves. As I was attempting to traverse a small stream of water today, I remembered how I stood one day at the edge of that stream behind my childhood home and tried to muster up the courage to jump across, wondering, will I make it? For a while all I could picture in my head was what it would mean if I fell short- certainly it would hurt, I would no doubt get wet, and even worse, my pride would suffer... maybe keep me from ever trying again.<br />
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But I decided to jump anyway, just clearing the opposite side to my delight.<br />
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It was the start of many more jumps, risks. I must admit some of the falls I have taken meant some bad injuries, even kept me quiet for a while, but only to catch my breath, heal, and try again.<br />
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I intended to wear my favorite polka dot galoshes today, but forgot them, instead getting muddy my somewhat new sneakers that I purchased back in New Hampshire in December. Those sneakers were definitely not showing enough signs of wear (indicating a lack of exercise these last few weeks!) so christening them with mud seemed okay, an expected outcome when walking through winter woods.<br />
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College continues to introduce me to amazing people, recently a group of African American writers who used their artistry with words to expose oppression and fight for equality. If you are not familiar with these writers, I introduce them with pride, Americans who made a huge difference:<br />
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W.E.B.Dubois, founder of the NAACP, writer teacher, editor, scholar, activist. Extraordinary writer who said "I stand in utter shamelessness and say that whatever art I have for writing has been used always for propaganda for gaining the right of black folk to love and enjoy."This quote comes from his work "Criteria of Negro Art" written in 1926. Also a must read: "Of Our Spiritual Strivings."<br />
<a href="http://www.webdubois.org/dbCriteriaNArt.html">http://www.webdubois.org/dbCriteriaNArt.html</a><br />
<a href="http://xroads.virginia.edu/~hyper/dubois/ch01.html">http://xroads.virginia.edu/~hyper/dubois/ch01.html</a><br />
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Martin Luther King Jr., Baptist minister and leader of the civil rights movement. If you have never read King, please read "Letter from Birmingham Jail", which includes these two moving quotes: "I am in Birmingham because injustice is here."and "We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed."<br />
<a href="http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html">http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html</a><br />
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Anna Julia Cooper, African American woman writer in the 1890's. In her essay "Our Raison d'Etre" she states "And not many can more sensibly realize and more accurately tell the weight and the fret of "the long dull pain" than the open-eyed but hitherto voiceless Black Woman of America."<br />
<a href="http://testaae.greenwood.com/doc_print.aspx?fileID=COV1384&chapterID=COV1384-11&path=primarydoc/greenwood">http://testaae.greenwood.com/doc_print.aspx?fileID=COV1384&chapterID=COV1384-11&path=primarydoc/greenwood</a><br />
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Alice Walker, novelist and poet, first African American woman to win the Pulitzer prize for "The Color Purple" in 1982. Her work "In Search of Our Mother's Gardens" beautifully shares the amazing ability her ancestors had to survive severe oppression and yet found ways to create in the midst of it. "How was the creativity of the black woman kept alive, year after year, century after century, when for most of the years black people have been in America, it was a punishable crime for a black person to read or write?"<br />
<a href="http://www.msmagazine.com/spring2002/walker.asp">http://www.msmagazine.com/spring2002/walker.asp</a><br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-37860182593670430172013-02-11T17:44:00.000-08:002013-02-11T17:44:21.898-08:00Three Weeks In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is so much I want to share and so little time to put my words together here..... in between a variety of reading and writing assignments for college, as well as memorizing spanish words and phrases...... At times I feel like a person who has started a new exercise program......<br />
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Only the main muscle I'm using is my brain! Can't say I've had any actual headaches, but there are moments when I feel mentally exhausted, and when that happens, I take a few deep breaths and relax, step away from my desk, and regroup.... or maybe go grab a snack, walk around my neighborhood, or just sit and cuddle with Lily.<br />
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But this I know..... I am where I need to be (Temple) and I am loving the challenge..... and in just three weeks I have learned so much!<br />
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My classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I only have to make the typically 11/2 hour morning commute two days a week. On Tuesdays I have three classes, my shorter day, with a gap of a couple hours for lunch when I usually do some reading. Thursdays are a bit longer with back to back classes, including an hour long Spanish lab (Como esta??) as well as an evening class that ends at 8pm. I leave that day at 7am and return at 9:30pm..... and yes, if you watch that show "The Walking Dead" I would fit right in with that cast of zombies by the time I arrive home.<br />
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At Temple I meet and hear the stories of lots of new people, occasionally run into my son Josiah, and carry my heavy backpack proudly, scurrying from one building to another in the cold weather. I am the only "mature" (okay, old) student in all of my classes, but feel welcomed and accepted. In two of my classes I am definitely older than my professors too, but that is okay!!! I like to think, or at least believe the saying older but wiser........<br />
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So much has touched me deeply since I have been attending Temple these past three weeks. What I'm learning, the stories that intersect with mine, I want to highlight here.<br />
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My daughter Amber likes to refer to the way I will be sharing what follows as my "Existential" way of writing. For me, today, it feels like the proper way to express in snapshots what I have been seeing.<br />
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Valentine's Day is in February, the middle of winter, the bleakest and perhaps coldest time of the year, and yet there it is, a warm red oasis represented by Cupid and his arrows and we wonder, secretly hope, anticipate what it might feel like if one of those arrows would hit us square in our hearts, to remind us that love.....LOVE...... the real thing, the only thing, really, exists..... for us.<br />
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The book is called <i>Unequal Fortunes</i> and it is the first college textbook I purchase at the Temple bookstore. It is small, by college book standards, but it packs a punch, as does the entire class in which our subjects are resegregation, school violence, and dropouts. Leo's story is hard to read because it forces me to see what lies beneath my own prejudices and assumptions, at the same time revealing what I've always known has the power to transform lives, what has transformed mine.... LOVE. Leo's story ends in tragedy, but two of his friends make it to college. Why? Because there were people who believed in them, pushed them, didn't give up on them. LOVE.<br />
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A little girl sits in a world of darkness. In her frustration she has tantrums, uses her physical prowess as well as the pity of those closest to her to get her own way, acting like an animal rather than a girl. She doesn't know she even is. But someone willingly attempts to enter her world, a girl who herself has experienced blindness, who understands rage, and as their worlds collide something beautiful begins to emerge for both of them, a friendship to last a lifetime, a relationship which gives voice to two great female minds and writers- Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller. LOVE.<br />
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When I first began reading Eli Clare's work "Stolen Bodies, Reclaimed Bodies" I knew this was a piece of writing I would never forget. Eli is a transgendered female who also happens to have cerebral palsy, an activist, poet, and speaker with an amazing ability to share her story eloquently and boldly through words. She says "For me, this work is about shattering the belief that my body is wrong." And what has brought that shattering? LOVE.<br />
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I appreciate the poetic writing style of St. Paul, and all week, in between my assignments, there it was, the reminder, the familiar yet sometimes too easy to ignore yet immensely important verses in 1 Corinthians 13:1......<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text 1Cor-13-1"><i>"If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text 1Cor-13-2" id="en-NLT-28628"><sup class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></sup><i>If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text 1Cor-13-3" id="en-NLT-28629"><sup class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></sup><i>If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="text 1Cor-13-4" id="en-NLT-28630"><sup class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="text 1Cor-13-4" id="en-NLT-28630"><sup class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></sup><i>Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud</i></span><i> </i><span class="text 1Cor-13-5" id="en-NLT-28631"><i>or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.</i></span><span class="text 1Cor-13-6" id="en-NLT-28632"><sup class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></sup><i>It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.</i></span><span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><sup class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></sup><i>Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance."</i></span><br />
<span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><br />
</i></span> <span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i> </i></span> <span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i> </i></span><span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The arrow hits dead center and at first there is pain but love does that, breaks us open, knocks us off our feet, leaves us feeling helpless and scared and yet hungry for more. It burns and consumes and removes and recovers and redeems and awakens and liberates and transforms. </span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></span></i></span> <span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">"LOVE never fails." </span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></span></i></span> <span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">May LOVE find you, right where you are.</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></span></i></span> <span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NLT-28633"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Happy Valentine's Day!!!!</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unequal Fortunes: Snapshots from the South Bronx by Arthur Levine and Laura Scheiber </span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unequal-Fortunes-Snapshots-South-Bronx/dp/0807750751">http://www.amazon.com/Unequal-Fortunes-Snapshots-South-Bronx/dp/0807750751</a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A list of Helen Keller's books:</span></span></i></span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/list/7275.Helen_Keller">http://www.goodreads.com/author/list/7275.Helen_Keller</a></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A link to a free ebook edition of Helen's book, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The World I live In.</span></span></i></i></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I especially encourage you to read her chapters titled "The Seeing Hand" and "Before The Soul Dawn"</span></span></i></span></i></span><br />
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<i><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/27683/27683-h/27683-h.htm">http://www.gutenberg.org/files/27683/27683-h/27683-h.htm</a></i><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><i>A link to Eli Clare's "</i> <i>Stolen Bodies Reclaimed Bodies"</i></span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://communitylearningpartnership.org/share/docs/Clare.Stolen%20Bodies.pdf">http://communitylearningpartnership.org/share/docs/Clare.Stolen%20Bodies.pdf</a> </i></span></div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-15104425505601502922013-01-20T16:46:00.000-08:002013-01-20T16:47:12.903-08:00Back to School<div style="text-align: left;">
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My collection of Scarecrows, along with photos of me with my siblings (love you Lisa, Noel, and Chad!!!), and my shepherd girl doll (she represents a story I will share another day!)</div>
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The Scarecrow is going back to school.... finally!!!!<br />
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Tomorrow I go to orientation at Temple University.....the start of yet another adventure on the road of my life.<br />
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Who'd have thought the yellow brick road would lead me to north Philly?<br />
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All this reminder of my identity as Scarecrow brought me back to my first self-published piece of writing, the Amazing Grace Newsletter (I will be adding a link to an additional page for this soon). That was in January 1998, the same year we made our move from Florida to Pennsylvania..... a year of tremendous change, a year of coming home.<br />
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But coming back physically to PA was only the start of another lengthy hike to get to today, where I am finally at home within myself. It feels good, and well worth the time and effort required to get here.<br />
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<i>"And the end of all our exploring </i></div>
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<i>Will be to arrive where we started</i></div>
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<i>And know the place for the</i></div>
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<i>first time."</i></div>
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<i>- T.S. Eliot</i></div>
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I have many new ideas for this blog, ones I hope to implement as I move forward in my first semester at college. Hope you will join me as I enter this new world of higher learning..... and God willing, the Scarecrow's middle age brain will meet the challenge!</div>
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If you have ever been to northern Philadelphia, you know I best not compare it to the Emerald City (haha)..... however the opportunities I will find there will enable me to gather more knowledge, equipping me to be a better writer and photographer.<br />
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My sister Lisa found this certificate a few years back and passed it along to me. I thought it appropriate to post!<br />
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Always remember</div>
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it's never too late to go home </div>
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And when you get there</div>
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where you started</div>
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Take that new path you see </div>
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and boldly</div>
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Follow your dreams</div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-44073257083640211192013-01-01T09:13:00.000-08:002013-01-02T18:39:47.022-08:00Ending and Beginning..... Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What a year for me, for our family.<br />
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In addition to the many posts I have shared this past year I choose to end 2012 with these final thoughts and photographs. It was a year of great change, a year to prepare the way for more change, a year of being lost and being found. <br />
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An intense year I will never forget.<br />
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First, a poem, one I tore from a Yankee magazine many years back.<br />
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<i>never prepare---not</i><br />
<i>the Sleeping Beauty nor</i><br />
<i>the brothers</i><br />
<i>aptly named</i><br />
<i>Grimm---- realities Ice Queen</i><br />
<i>never melts, Cinderella's</i><br />
<i>shoe is on the other </i><br />
<i>foot, and Hansel</i><br />
<i>and Gretel wander the forest</i><br />
<i>in their search for home</i><br />
<i>dissecting the anatomy</i><br />
<i>of more than one</i><br />
<i>witch, chased by rain they thought</i><br />
<i>was friend, singed by more</i><br />
<i>than their share</i><br />
<i>of flame, desperate</i><br />
<i>to decipher</i><br />
<i>the spelling</i><br />
<i>of fallen twigs</i><br />
<i>in their determination</i><br />
<i>not to stay lost </i><br />
<i>for a lifetime.</i><br />
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In my quest to find my way home I was often led by the light within my children, who in their struggles and joys, in their moments of insight and creativity, helped me to believe in myself. <i> </i><br />
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The city of Bethlehem is rightly referred to as the "Christmas City," not just by virtue of its name, but also by its embrace of the season through its festive decorations. I was there twice taking photos before Christmas, once during the day, once at night. Bethlehem also happens to be the home of Moravian College, where my son Dale graduated back in 2005.<br />
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At a recent service Dale gave the following sermon, one that touched my heart deeply:<br />
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On the Ember Wednesday in Advent<br />
Commemorating St. Thomas, Apostle<br />
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Hebrews 10:35-11:1<br />
St. John 20:24-29<br />
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Teach me, O Lord, the way of your statues, and I shall keep it to the end. Give me understanding, and I shall keep your law; I shall keep it with all my heart. (Psalm 119:33-34)<br />
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I speak to you today in commemoration of St. Thomas the apostle, in recognition of the first Ember Day in Advent, when the church implores us to pray for those preparing for and in ordained ministry, and in celebration of the 30th Anniversary of the ordination of our rector, Father Andrew Gerns.<br />
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And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love. (I Cor 13:13)<br />
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Christ calls you to follow him not because you are perfect; he calls you to be his friend not because you are always faithful and trustworthy; he calls you to be his disciple not because you are quick to learn or easy to teach. Christ calls you because he loves you unconditionally.<br />
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You are oftentimes afraid of the journey, of the act of following, of not knowing where Christ leads, of getting distracted or losing your way. You barely even know how to get up and walk! You wish you were like a child, carry-able, simple, all-believing. Seeing the little girl hand-in-hand with her mom, approaching the man in the red suit with white fur edging you think: “I wish I still believed that easily.”<br />
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The writer of the Letter to the Hebrews tells us: Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)<br />
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Christ’s love for you seeks you out and stops at nothing to care for you- not exhaustion, not sore, blistered feet, not pierced hands or bloodied brow, not even cold, deathly doors - you may have put yourself high in the fortress tower, you may have hidden away in the bomb shelter, you may be perched on a hill poised for the battle or maybe you stand on the cliff’s edge, ready to jump; his love for you is still the same.<br />
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But you wonder if you know how to come down from there or walk out into the sunshine or breathe the fresh air or lay down your weapons and stop the fight. It is a habit with you, and Christ is not unaware. Do you really want his help? Does your spirit sigh without words, calling out for his care?<br />
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Love is the substance of Christianity. Love bears with you when you cannot want or call or follow. Love embraces you when you are lost or distracted. Doubt is not the worst thing that can happen to you, Christian. But becoming hypnotized and traumatized by your own failures, and lack, and dour duties, or letting yourself be dazzled by yourself; forging a hard, stony, cold heart that does not love; that is the worst thing that you can do.<br />
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Be willing to lift up your real, wounded heart to Christ; he does not ask for more. If you cannot love, at least let yourself be loved, because love transforms. Look around you; you are not alone in your wounded-ness, in your distracted-ness, even in your terminal dismay; there is a community of a thousand thousand wounded hearts, striving together, crying out to Christ, being bound-up together.<br />
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That gathering together and lifting-up of a thousand thousand wounded hearts is not just for you and your age alone. From ages past to ages coming the Community of Love resounds, collected in its priests. They are the gatherers of the called, shallow bowls of incense. Don’t expect servile magic or a show; Don’t try to climb your priests like Jacob’s ladder, or watch for angels’ up-and-down. It is Christ, Christian, who brings things transcendent into the immediate. Christ is the Burning Bush. Christ speaks: Take off your shoes: I am and will be who I am and will be. Your priests are a soundboard - through God’s grace and the prayers of so many different, faithful, doubting, deserting, betraying, broken hearts - by whom our myriad loud and soft vibrations are collected and amplified to the upper air.<br />
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If you walk beside St. Thomas for a moment, Christian, you will learn that the need to see and touch is not unique; you are not the only one who wants cold, hard proof. Believing did not go easily for those who spoke with Christ face-to-face; it is no less daunting for those who must believe without seeing. But stand for a moment - listen - and you will catch on Thomas’ breath the quiet joy of having been proven, by a great truth, quite wrong. You will hear him whisper with inner enlightenment,<br />
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“My Lord and my God!”<br />
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And then yours will be to repeat the sounding joy.<br />
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Shower, O heavens, from above, and let the skies rain down righteousness; let the earth open, that salvation may spring up, and let it cause righteousness to sprout up also. (Isaiah 45:8)<br />
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Amber and John married on May 11, 2012, a day of rejoicing for all of us.<br />
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Amber finished her Masters in Photography this past year while planning a wedding, working a full time job, and shooting weddings on the side. She and John welcomed Gable, their greyhound son, into their hearts and their home last spring. </div>
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Back in the fall I was overjoyed to learn my baby is now expecting her own baby! Wow! I will never forget the day she and John sat together on the living room couch, looking like they were containing the best news ever, ready to burst with it........ which they did, and of course as the months go by Amber's belly will burst accordingly!</div>
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As I sat with my psychologist and shared the news with her she asked me "How do you feel about being a grandma?" as if, maybe, it might make me feel anything other than elated......I think she forgot she was speaking to a woman of six children, who loved babies from the time she was a little girl herself.... so of course my reply came with a beaming face and an excited voice, "I can't wait!"</div>
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The baby is due June 27th. I can only imagine what it will be like to hold my grandchild in my arms for the first time:)</div>
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In recent weeks Bethlehem became the location, particularly The Hyatt Hotel, for my son Josiah to begin shooting his senior film project for Temple University. He spent a year fine tuning his script, which included facing off a professor in a recent class who totally blasted his idea, his story, and wanted Josiah to change his concept.</div>
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He didn't agree. He argued for his story. He continued to believe in what he had written.</div>
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When he showed his test scene to his class, which included that professor....... she too became a believer. </div>
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The film will be presented in May. For those who have followed Josiah's budding film career since he began making movies back in elementary school, this clip is pretty amazing. All his obsession with movies is certainly paying off. </div>
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The name of Josiah's film is:</div>
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Mr. Wright: An Overture </div>
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Please follow this link to see his test scene:</div>
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/54507635">https://vimeo.com/54507635</a></div>
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Okay....... three Grandfield kids down, only three to go.........</div>
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Chad is studying Nutrition at West Chester University and has a lovely new girlfriend, Tasha, also a Nutrition major. He admits it was certainly hard for her to resist his considerable charm during their organic chemistry class........ what a humble guy! </div>
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Chad hopes to do an internship this summer with a nutritionist in our area, but also definitely needs to find a steady job to support his continued need for protein powder and other important nutritional supplements. He is the healthiest eater I have ever seen at his age, capable of throwing together a mean, lean, egg white omelette each day before heading to the gym. His favorite ingredients to have on hand say it all...... brown rice, lean ground turkey, boneless skinless chicken breasts, and assorted fresh fruits and vegetables.</div>
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I have alot to learn from this son....... if only I had the same willpower!</div>
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My beautiful daughter Rebekah ran the NYC half marathon back in March, turned eighteen in November, and filed applications for college recently. She has been cyber schooling here at home these past two years, which means she gets to see lots of me......haha......I wonder if that is why she is sooo looking forward to college?</div>
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Bekah is an outstanding student and a very driven young lady, wanting to become a Medical Doctor in the future. I have no doubt she will accomplish any goals she sets. </div>
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One other pretty significant change for my girl, by choice, this past year- she went from brunette to blonde. My Mom now calls her Maril... short for, you guessed it!.... Marilyn Monroe.</div>
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She is also a phenomenal cook, a vegetarian who whips up some amazingly tasty fare, even with tofu! </div>
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The birthday cakes in the photos above, as well as Amber and John's wedding cake, as well as countless other incredible baked goods this past year, are all part of my daughter Lisa-Noel's creative culinary pursuits! No surprise she wants to be a pastry chef someday!</div>
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And she has a really cute boyfriend, Alan, who enjoys eating those baked goods, which she shares freely with just about everyone she knows, as well as the students and faculty at her new school, Lehigh Valley School of the Arts. Lisa-Noel auditioned for their dance program back in May and was accepted, a very happy and encouraging moment for her.</div>
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I always refer to my baby girl as the icing on the beautiful five layer cake God gave me through her five older siblings. Isn't it amazing she can now take frosting and use it so skillfully when she makes cakes? </div>
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I look forward to seeing her first dance performance in the spring. </div>
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Lily would be horribly offended if I didn't share a photo of her here also, because she is my furry daughter (dare I say the fur on the icing on that cake??) </div>
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She is pure fun, even when she misbehaves- such a happy girl, wherever she goes.</div>
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Happy New Year to all</div>
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with lots and lots of<br />
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-789246350709590962012-12-19T05:35:00.000-08:002012-12-19T05:35:51.217-08:00New Hampshire Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I believe in magic.....especially Christmas magic.<br />
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Last week I spent a truly magical day with a camera around my neck, galoshes on my feet, and a van ready to drive and stop wherever I so desired- in one of my favorite places- New Hampshire.<br />
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I want to share some of the moments of joy I found that day with you, not just through my photos, but also through my words.<br />
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Come along, as I share with you my special day.......<br />
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It was my last day in New Hampshire and the weather looked great, which meant one thing- I was off to shoot some photos, already planning to start at Hampton Beach. When I arrived I was a little disappointed to see everything was closed for the season........... <br />
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Even the McDonalds was boarded up (I thought immediately of my son Josiah, and how disappointed he would be to see this!)</div>
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This old sign brought back memories- hadn't seen that cute ad for Coppertone with the little girl having her suit pulled down by the dog in many years!</div>
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It became obvious I wouldn't find any fried dough here as my favorite place to have it, Blinks, was closed, although I did appreciate they had decorated for the season. (Don't you love the orange door??)</div>
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Considering Lily is never far from my mind and heart, I couldn't help but notice this sign, and wonder why yet another community has to discriminate against our beloved furry friends...</div>
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Before being drawn to the sound of the waves and a walk on the beach, I saw a woman approaching the beach, two plastic bags in hand, with tons of birds following her as she went......<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_jvUQxC7Hhd1eelZikQvhhmD8Wdn-s8cBX-rloldn92L36Z5Npui_L3UdEy2kzMKnyFh0pgWWevr_0yFiWmNTkoLDvcSFjIJXrzpNU29rX-W0JaZUhxQgtsQXSSqXTyaqKgdhQNUFfwY/s1600/DSC_2586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_jvUQxC7Hhd1eelZikQvhhmD8Wdn-s8cBX-rloldn92L36Z5Npui_L3UdEy2kzMKnyFh0pgWWevr_0yFiWmNTkoLDvcSFjIJXrzpNU29rX-W0JaZUhxQgtsQXSSqXTyaqKgdhQNUFfwY/s400/DSC_2586.JPG" width="265" /></a></div>
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As they swirled around her, even sitting on her head, she kept throwing out the bread to the seagulls and the pigeons, sharing what she had with all of them. She reminded me of a lady I witnessed giving bread to ducks when I visited Florida in April. It touched my heart, her generosity to those birds.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsPretRSdw4QBxjVca43D5Amxin_oZdyu7l7nDgYIMYLv4s74JadOFTuChi6jLhUpcreV-dEAdb9OahDwGu2eN-jQ3qcjnBntIoIt6ObO_3wNmPGt_RMUks3PJ1t6TZFXtHS04Db45OOJ/s1600/DSC_2593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsPretRSdw4QBxjVca43D5Amxin_oZdyu7l7nDgYIMYLv4s74JadOFTuChi6jLhUpcreV-dEAdb9OahDwGu2eN-jQ3qcjnBntIoIt6ObO_3wNmPGt_RMUks3PJ1t6TZFXtHS04Db45OOJ/s400/DSC_2593.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I made my way onto the beach to search for more photos, as well as any other treasures from the sea I might be lucky enough to find. Couldn't resist a self portrait against the backdrop of the sand and sea.</div>
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And I had my galoshes on, ready to slop my way through sand and surf at my leisure, without feeling too much chill or getting soaked. I love these boots, I bought them on clearance at Macy's months ago. The polka dots.... goofy, just like me!!!<br />
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I had to.... I just had to..... put my hand in the cold water, and with my other hand, snap this photo.</div>
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And here are a couple of the treasures I found as I meandered down Hampton Beach:</div>
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This set of footprints reminded me of that classic picture and story of Jesus carrying us through difficult times, but in this case the footsteps were leading towards me..... and all that day it felt like God was approaching me, through the bird lady, through the beautiful scenery, through every sound and smell and sensation I experienced. Isn't that the message of advent, of the incarnation?..... God drawing near, stepping into our humanity, finding us and meeting us right where we are.</div>
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The beauty of the New England beaches, so unique and inspiring.</div>
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From Hampton Beach I proceeded up the coast along US1, not knowing where exactly I was going except north, hoping I'd find a few more stops along the way to take photos. I was not at all disappointed, for everywhere I looked was perfect, and I knew I couldn't take a bad photo of this lovely, quaint area, even if I tried! The following photos were taken as I approached Rye Beach, NH.<br />
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And behold....... I found the "ANSWER" at Rye Harbor, though it may not get me very far in its present condition..... <br />
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I stopped to have lunch at Petey's seafood restaurant, chowing down on fried baby shrimp, fried clams, and YES!!!.... fried dough. Good thing I wasn't going in for a cholesterol screening the next day!</div>
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With a very full stomach an unusual sight beckoned me..... stacks of rocks, on top of rock, with the sea as their background. Representations of people and their journeys, being brought to this place, the place I now was ready to explore.<br />
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From where I parked my car I had to trudge through a large, shallow pool of water caught between the rocks and sea, and the afternoon sky was so blue. As I moved along I saw a man climbing also, getting to a particular rock where he sat to rest for a while. I prayed for him as I continued to make my own way, glad to have the company of a stranger. Somehow, I sensed, we were in this together.<br />
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Before leaving I saw it, the pyramid shaped rock someone else very strong must have hauled to put in its place. I imagined what that stone represented, the large burden that person may have let go of by leaving it there. It was then I knew I would place my own stones upon it.... three.....on the apex, and to my surprise, they balanced perfectly. I thought the first rock looked like a bird, ready to fly.<br />
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Before I reached Portsmouth, NH I stopped for a few last photos, taking these from the bridge you can see in the first shot.<br />
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I wound my way through Portsmouth and ended my magical day buying souvenirs at The Kittery Trading Post in Maine before returning to have a wonderful dinner out with my dear friends Janet and Gary. This day, this visit, restored something vital back to me.<br />
I returned to my family with joy.<br />
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<i>To you who just shared this special day with me,</i><br />
<i>May you experience Joy and Restoration</i><br />
<i>Deep within......</i><br />
<i>Merry, Merry, Christmas!</i><br />
<i>with love, always,</i><br />
<i>Danese XOXO </i></div>
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-78655556024405008712012-12-11T06:12:00.000-08:002012-12-11T07:19:27.139-08:00Lobster Trap Joy<div style="text-align: center;">
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The first place on my list to visit here in New Hampshire was actually not in New Hampshire but Maine...... Nubble Lighthouse in York Beach, Maine. After church on Sunday Gary drove us up and it was a moment of great joy to be there, taking photos, breathing in that pungent salty sea air, turning in all directions in awe. <br />
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I LOVE New England!<br />
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And when I saw this example of the Maine Christmas spirit, well, I had to take a photo to share.....where else would you see a Christmas tree made out of lobster traps? Amazing Joy.......<br />
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Gary was Santa at a local Rec center here in Barrington, NH. I was thrilled to take a bunch of photos, enjoying the moments of Christmas joy watching the children sit on Santa's lap (of course there were a few who were not so joyous too!) Janet and I just had to get a photo with Santa Gary also!<br />
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I will be returning to my family tomorrow.....looking forward to taking the joy I have found here in NH back with me to share and can't wait to see what further joy awaits me as I prepare for Christmas.<br />
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I hope and pray you are finding Christmas joy this holiday season.Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-74633672379643481142012-12-03T18:21:00.002-08:002012-12-03T18:30:32.151-08:00 Skating Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Each year I hold my breath- literally- as I bring out my Victorian skating scene, hoping it will work for one more Christmas season. I purchased this way back in the mid-1980's, my first animated decoration, and our kids have enjoyed watching the skaters go round and round ever since.<br />
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Except in recent years the skaters didn't move, the music was filled with static, and one of the lamp posts fell apart. Last year it remained on a table in the corner of our family room simply looking pretty, but sadly, not being used to its full and original potential.<br />
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When I carted the cumbersome box holding it into my living room I knew it would probably be another year of disappointment, another season of a silent pond with still skaters (oh ye of little faith). But when I began to assemble the pieces and plugged it in, the music was playing. The lamp post which was broken in two pieces I attempted to put together, noticing each time I did something close to miraculous happened.... the skaters began to move, mysteriously. If I touched it another way, they stopped and the music became garbled.<br />
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Terry came over to help me inspect this strange but possibly encouraging phenomenon, and we both sat on the floor laughing as it worked, then stopped, worked then stopped, and my husband unscrewed the bulb from the light stand and voila!....... the pond came completely back to life!!!! He used hot glue to reattach some of the pieces and get the other working lampposts to stand erect, and I dutifully dusted and cleaned the skating surface as well as removing all dust from the felt pieces on the skater's feet. As you can see above, it is working beautifully.<br />
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I delight in turning it on each evening, watching those tiny skaters come to life...... Joy!<br />
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-59704328193076882492012-11-07T11:28:00.000-08:002012-11-07T11:28:08.513-08:00The Glory of Autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Some of my favorite photos taken in October. </span></i></b></div>
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<br />Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752350349336629867.post-82352403406249180672012-10-25T14:11:00.000-07:002012-10-25T15:52:39.142-07:00Shadows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh restless heart, questioning heart, longing heart, how you have pushed me towards the edge........<br />
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I stand on the bridge looking upstream. There's a concrete pylon, shaped like an arrow, pointing ahead. The sun is behind me and my shadow appears on that piece of concrete, a sign of direction. Can I prevail against that current, make it upstream? Immediately movement catches my eye and I see it, the lone goose, paddling, smoothly, making its way. Exactly where I need to go. If she can do it, so can I.<br />
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We all have shadows, don't we? Why do we hide them? Peter Pan loses his, accidentally, at the Darling house. He misses it, knows it is an important part of who he is. He asks Wendy to put it back on, she uses needle and thread to attach it. Peter flies around with joy, happy to have his shadow back.<br />
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Shadows are produced by light. Marvelous light.<br />
"Darkness is as light to him."<br />
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I have a special rock, a place I go to for solitude. It sits beside a stream. To get to it I have to climb down a steep hill, often times slipping and sliding as I descend. Once there I breathe slowly and deeply and I listen to the inner voice in my heart. I rest, completely. Here I am not performing, not pretending. No one sees me but God, and in that perfect moment of being truly myself I feel love, perfect love, liberating love.<br />
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Love's light casts long shadows. Until the direction of that light changes, and suddenly there is no hiding, for true love compels us to risk all, to sell all that we have in order to obtain it.<br />
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"Good teacher. what must I do to inherit eternal life?"<br />
"Go, sell all that you have and give to the poor. Then follow me."<br />
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I, like the rich young ruler, have walked away, grieving, not wanting to let go of everything I have, everything I hide behind, everything I long to control, to find this life God wants for me.<br />
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But that restless, questioning, longing heart will not quit propelling me to the edge..... convincing me there is only one way to fly.<br />
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I must jump.<br />
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Little by little I have been approaching that edge. During a very dark emotional time back in April a story began emerging from a deep part of my soul. I call it my "Horse Story." As I write the words it brings me closer to believing, truly believing, in God's new direction for my life. His dream for the latter years of my life hide within me, shadows of the future.<br />
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Even so fear grips me. Change is hard. I find myself dragging my feet the closer I get to that edge. I'm safer where I'm at. I don't like heights.<br />
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One day, out of the blue, I decide to apply to Temple University. To major in Religion, minor in women's studies. The call of God is becoming stronger, dragging me closer.<br />
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A mother eagle will actually push her babies out of the nest to get them to fly. God as my mother is trying to prepare me for flight, getting me ready to stretch my wings to answer her call.<br />
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Today, October 25, 2012, I receive my acceptance letter to Temple. A door is opening, a pathway is being laid ahead. I can feel the movement of the wings on my back.<br />
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And the shadows of my past come along with me. They will no longer keep me from accepting God's grace. In fact, they are as much who I am as the light places I carry, and all the in-between places.<br />
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From "The Night" by Henry Vaughn:</div>
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There is in God, some say,</div>
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A deep but dazzling darkness, as men here</div>
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Say it is late and dusky, because they </div>
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see not clear</div>
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O for that night! where I in Him</div>
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Might live invisible and dim!</div>
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I've always believed that rich young ruler came back, one day in the future, with his pockets empty and only the clothes on his back, ready, just like me, to take that leap of faith, to find true love.</div>
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Danesejoanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15283307765816875764noreply@blogger.com0