tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31602131089160387202024-03-14T07:37:58.698-07:006 by His DesignLife = (Trial+Error) x GraceKarin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comBlogger539125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-53675152257888434752020-10-20T11:56:00.004-07:002020-10-26T19:38:13.390-07:00Terror on American Thunder<p>Last Friday evening I reserved tickets for the whole family to attend Fright Fest at Six Flags here in St. Louis (all SIX of us!!! The twins were both home for the weekend, and Fright Fest is for sure a Family Tradition...just - not usually one that I particularly enjoy partaking in, and usually, not one I even do partake in). To say I am not a huge fan of this annual family event is notsomuch an understatement as much as it is, at least in this family, an Understood. It's a: No Questions. It's a: Don't Even Look This Way. Don't Think About It. Mom. Doesn't. Like. Roller. Coasters. Or scary stuff. Roller coasters themselves are frightening beasts of sadistic humor, but add chainsaws and gory monsters chasing you through man-made foggy mist of Six Flags during Fright Fest, and it's a shrill, "No Thank You" from Yours Truly. </p><p>Indeed, most years for this "age-old family tradition," I have opted to stay in comfy pjs in front of a roaring gas fire place working on a Shutterfly photo album or watching a rom-com at home. I much prefer the occasional updates from The Hubby via darkly lit photos and cheerful family texts rather than brave the see-your-breath cold weather, the shoulder-to-shoulder lines and crowds, and the Fright. But this year? This year my twin babies - who both happen to adore roller coasters and amusement parks and especially Six Flags during Fright Fest - were home, and I didn't want to be That Mom (the one who sits on the sidelines in peaceful tranquility watching her Little Lovelies enjoy themselves but never crossing the threshold to join in their spirited, spooky fun). </p><p>This year was different. </p><p>In fact, I decided to be SO "not this year" Mom that, without telling my family...or even informing myself, honestly, I purposefully headed towards the line at American Thunder right along with them, the first roller coaster to the left inside the park. Right past the 1900s cars (one of My Favorite Rides EV.ER.). Now, you may not know it, but "American Thunder is a wooden roller coaster located in the 1904 World's Fair section of Six Flags St. Louis in Eureka, Missouri. The coaster was originally named after and themed to the famous motorcycle daredevil Evel Knievel. It was renamed American Thunder for the 2011 season." According to Google. But, actually, as you navigate the winding twists and turns of The Wait to Ride this 30-second metal chamber of horrors, the history of roller coasters in general and American Thunder specifically is unveiled through a series of well-placed bill boards marking the path, keeping your mind off the wait and the Impending Doom in which you are about to partake. I know, because I stood numbly with my family in line to ride this wooden death trap for the first time in my life. My husband stood in shock and awe, a bolstery "I'm so proud of you!" emitted from his lips several times that I continually and deftly ignored. After all, one time. One. Time. I rode The Boss - another roller coaster in the middle of the park, further past the ice cream cones and the turkey legs, and the little kid Tweety Bird section (it had taken longer to convince me/myself to ride back then). That day, at the incessant insisting of my husband when we were there together on a date, just the two of us, pre-children era, I rode The Boss, clinging to the bar across my lap with an eagle talon death grip, my eyes rammed shut against my cheek bones, my quivering lips on a repeat loop of something akin to a self-soothing, suck-your-thumb, rocking in the corner kind of verbal self-massage of "you are fine. you are fine. you are fine." That day, I exited the ride and burst into hysterical sobs, and my husband left me alone from thence forward - for the most part - about riding roller coasters with him ever again. But, on this day, fast forward, I skip-read the billboards, noting with fascination my utter numbness to the task I somehow seemed to have chosen to do. I'm not even sure I drove to Six Flags thinking I would ride a roller coaster. Yet, here I was, snaking my way closer and closer to the front.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DY0h7X0pcng/X48w7YjR2YI/AAAAAAAAFvM/NiHC9qXIXncfKTm3ehkWJOYd5_40TSaJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2670.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DY0h7X0pcng/X48w7YjR2YI/AAAAAAAAFvM/NiHC9qXIXncfKTm3ehkWJOYd5_40TSaJwCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG_2670.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I thought I was calm. I now see the fear in my eyes.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div>We rock-paper-scissored who would sit by whom, 2 to a car, three cars' full. Sweet Matthew, my 16 year-old giant man-child cut from a cloth of athleticism, sarcastic humor, intelligence, fashion, and good looks got the short straw. (He actually volunteered to go with me. Did I mention he has a kind heart and a gentle, tender, and loving soft spot for his mom?) Suddenly, we were next. The silver bar jettisoned open, beckoning me to enter the cart. I continued to marvel at the truest feeling of Numb I had ever encountered within my core. Certainly that was a good sign. I couldn't feel anything, so I must have emotionally matured over the last twenty years and would find myself wholly capable of riding - if not enjoying - this little side attraction with my family at Six Flags! The metal bar collapsed tightly over my lap. The coaster lurched forward. I will be fine, I began to recite. I will be fine. I will be fine. I will be<p></p><p>Screaming. A guttural, piercing, shrill, terrifying sound came from the utter bowels of my center, my core. I had no control of it. I began to scream, and I continued screaming for the entirety of the ride. Through every twist, turn, drop, and pull. In my ear, my son calmly cajoled, "here comes a big hill..." and other soothing sounds including, "it's OK Mom. This isn't for everyone." By the time the coaster came barreling to a stop moments later (years, really), I sobbed uncontrollably in a squishy wet puddle of trauma and embarrassment on the oil, dirt, and probably COVID-encrusted textured floor of the coaster cart. Matthew took my arm, lifted, and escorted me from the barn, out into the dark, man-made foggy mist of the night. We shared ice cream, searched the boardwalks for games to play, and then we drove the family home.</p>Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-14708501824082651212020-10-13T09:13:00.001-07:002020-10-13T09:15:24.071-07:00On Re-Beginning<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've always thought I didn't like my last blog post, the one dated 2/22/2016, the one I wrote before I just sort of gave up writing. It felt choppy, unprofessional. This morning, however, I reread it, and I see theme, sequence, relatability. I see imperfection, but not...badness. (I have always been my own worst critic.) And for what reason did I "just sort of give up" writing? Time. Mostly time. Criticism. The world is full of it. The thing about criticism is I've heard it all before. In my own words in my own head, so I get to take that back. I get to own that, and I get to hold those thoughts over here in my left had while in the right hand I hold the Truth that the greatest thing we can give others is our Story...and "[j]ust because someone has already said it doesn't mean you can't say it, too, [because] You saying it may be the first time someone finally <i>hears</i> it" (Emily P. Freeman).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">From a "writer" perspective, I used to love to write short stories. I won awards through school for my writing, was published in the local paper, and earned money for it. My high school English teacher begged me to write the class graduation speech. I wasn't chosen, but it was quite philisophical - about water and sand, how things change, and how things stay the same. In college, I took a creative writing class. I wrote a poem about a tiger I had photographed at the Kansas City Zoo, and the professor spoke of passion, conflict, and imagination in my narrative. It made me laugh. A classmate leaned over and suggested, "it was literally about a tiger. Wasn't it?" And we laughed out loud together. But then, nothing. My voice grew silent, and I didn't write for a decade, until the blog - where I wrote for almost a decade, and now it's been that long again. (Or four years. Apparently it's only been four years.) But not being a writer, not allowing the words to stop growing swollen, sloppy, and stuck like fermenting nonsense at the bottom of my brain and instead rise up on wings like eagles and soar, float, and swivel on the air currents of Life ... is a paralysis that I shed. I choose, right now, today, to acknowledge who I am. I am a writer. I will call myself a writer. And I will write. This is my re-beginning. This is where the timeless sand and the water may change, but indeed one thing remains the same: I write.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1d0--OE2NJ0/X4XQxoGqGUI/AAAAAAAAFuw/A0hvj93GXFIf1cnFZ_mCK-K5cA2xvK4qgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Blog%2BPic%2B1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1d0--OE2NJ0/X4XQxoGqGUI/AAAAAAAAFuw/A0hvj93GXFIf1cnFZ_mCK-K5cA2xvK4qgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Blog%2BPic%2B1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-55370772646576536192016-02-22T06:32:00.000-08:002016-02-22T06:42:17.730-08:00Love: Week 6 Challenge<br />
<ul>
<li>I love coffee laced with chocolate.</li>
<li>I love icee mochas - which are coffee laced with chocolate and blended with ice into perfection.</li>
<li>I love chocolate. Like an extra large cut of moist rich chocolate cake topped with fudgy, creamy milk chocolate frosting kind of chocolate. Otherwise? Meh.</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eTklf8v6N0U/VssWQs2erFI/AAAAAAAAFlo/lOrXmrU6zjk/s1600/IMG_6633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eTklf8v6N0U/VssWQs2erFI/AAAAAAAAFlo/lOrXmrU6zjk/s400/IMG_6633.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chocolate covered strawberry cake on the table Valentine's morning</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OdlRnv4kRNw/VssWQifdtyI/AAAAAAAAFlo/k2VKyhUb4cw/s1600/IMG_6634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OdlRnv4kRNw/VssWQifdtyI/AAAAAAAAFlo/k2VKyhUb4cw/s400/IMG_6634.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>I love my husband.</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Acykth2tV0I/VssViQVHUXI/AAAAAAAAFlI/IZWbYQwH4qo/s1600/IMG_7062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Acykth2tV0I/VssViQVHUXI/AAAAAAAAFlI/IZWbYQwH4qo/s400/IMG_7062.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My eyes are teary. It had been a rough day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>I love my children. And my mom.</li>
<li>I love my friends. I am so blessed to have old and new friends. There was a time when I stood in the back yard of our old house in tears because I felt so isolated and alone. My husband put me to work digging something up in the yard because "Nothing beats sadness better than hard work," he said. That year God brought me two friends from two mission trips that have been by my side through thick and thin since then. And my two longest, dearest friends who remain so and can pick up right where we left off in spite of distance. I tell my kids, you don't need lots of friends, you just need a few good friends. I am lucky to have a few very good friends.</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oBcs5XP88rI/VssVVSl46OI/AAAAAAAAFlA/PgExmJ7evYM/s1600/IMG_7047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oBcs5XP88rI/VssVVSl46OI/AAAAAAAAFlA/PgExmJ7evYM/s400/IMG_7047.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, my BRE, and Crazy Timi</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nkU9bkdZF70/VssVbMD029I/AAAAAAAAFlE/XFgdSYHHh-Q/s1600/IMG_7065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nkU9bkdZF70/VssVbMD029I/AAAAAAAAFlE/XFgdSYHHh-Q/s400/IMG_7065.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best Friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>I love the front of our house. I drive up and think what a lucky girl I am that God allowed us to have this house. I like the inside, but I don't love it yet. There is still a lot of work to be done on the inside and it paralyzes me in the magnitude and the choices and the opportunities and the what ifs, and I just do nothing. That, and there's never enough time. John is great at making lists every weekend and working on those projects to completion. Like the linen closet in the basement. I pulled some sheets from the bottom of a box last weekend when my brother came to visit and the box and the closet exploded on me. Yes, a box we had packed two years ago and moved to this house and shoved in the bottom of a basement closet exploded. A size XL packing box from Storage USA. I couldn't even push my entire body weight against the door to shove it closed to hide the explosion. That kind of a blowout. My sweet guy tore the closet apart and built new shelves for me yesterday afternoon. All I have to do is place the sheets and blankets on the new shelves as soon as I get a few minutes. I love that man. Once, I made a list of things that would help me begin to love the inside of this house. It included updating the pantry and the laundry room. Both are done. I'm still a little wishy washy about the inside of the house, though. Weird, I know. But I do love it. Just not all the way. We lived in our old house 17 years and built it from the ground up aesthetically. I think I'm sentimental about it. A lot sentimental about it. I do love this neighborhood, though. I love that the kids have friends across the street, and they are either all here or all over there all the time. Even the adults go visiting, often with their 6-packs. When Jerry's garage door is up, we all know the bar is open. It's a cul-de-sac and the littles down the street are coming out more and soon they will be one big pack of kids. Sara is rarely without a playmate between her own siblings, the next door neighbors' granddaughters and CeCe across the street. Luckiest girl on the planet. I can't keep snacks stocked. In the summer, it's ice cream bars. These kids can eat. I love it (even though I complain about the grocery bill).</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngFYXO8b9G8/VssWZ5dSvqI/AAAAAAAAFlc/Px01cxGqXHs/s1600/IMG_6653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngFYXO8b9G8/VssWZ5dSvqI/AAAAAAAAFlc/Px01cxGqXHs/s400/IMG_6653.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow on Valentine's Day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>I don't love the back of our house nor the yard. I really miss our old pool. But I do love the land behind us. Someday I fear it won't be there like it is today - it will be sold off into a subdivision with too many houses and not enough yard. I would love to buy the tract right behind us when that time comes. Or the whole thing. We'll see. In the meantime, I like the yard and I love watching the kids play there and there is plenty of space, so I really should love it. It's OK. :p</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UoRZwMiTjTc/VssWavr9uiI/AAAAAAAAFlk/kwZNQvefVao/s1600/IMG_6655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UoRZwMiTjTc/VssWavr9uiI/AAAAAAAAFlk/kwZNQvefVao/s400/IMG_6655.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5zz6kFa_Bos/VssWaGDjcWI/AAAAAAAAFls/VXqGnk5LPdA/s1600/IMG_6654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5zz6kFa_Bos/VssWaGDjcWI/AAAAAAAAFls/VXqGnk5LPdA/s400/IMG_6654.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the view out my bedroom door, <br />
that I have a bedroom door out to the back <br />
and that to the left in this picture is a glowing fireplace. In my bedroom.<br />
And snow is falling. Love.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>I love studying the Bible. I love Bible studies that help me understand the intricacies and the stories and give application to life in this season. We are in the middle of a good one right now called <u>Rooted</u> written by Tim Wesemann, who is a friend of ours. We're in the final stretches, and it has been interesting how this Bible study has been there for me in the middle of some difficult moments of processing life these last few weeks. God is good like that. Very good.</li>
<li>I love this cat that just climbed into my lap. He may be my favorite of all time. The dog I love but I kind of just "like" him because I hate it when he runs off. Or gets skunked. HE *loves* the neighbors' bird feedings. He can be found there licking the ground at least twice a day. They live four houses behind us. Some day he won't come home. I know for sure he will get skunked again, and that I hate. I need to add peroxide to my grocery list.</li>
<li>I love the pictures my brother brought down last weekend. I love that he came and that bonds were re-established and there is good and there is bad and there is family. No matter what.</li>
</ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHAlqWN6ITk/VssX-iwuQXI/AAAAAAAAFl8/RswCE1wMSow/s1600/IMG_6768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHAlqWN6ITk/VssX-iwuQXI/AAAAAAAAFl8/RswCE1wMSow/s400/IMG_6768.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my brother. His hair is crazy.<br />
These are his bunnies. They were all albino after the first litter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>I love seasons. I especially love snow. And new flower blossoms. And canon balls. And dramatic foliage. I kind of just love it all in its time.</li>
<li>I love spanish. I love that my husband is taking me to Spain for our anniversary because I once told him I'm not the girl who gets to go to Spain. He told me I am. Our community ed spanish class we are taking this semester is kicking my butt. I love it.</li>
<li>I love mornings when the house is quiet and the coffee is hot - or cold - and the day is ahead with opportunity and I haven't lost my patience or yelled at anyone yet. Not even once. I'm a great mom in the morning before everyone else wakes up.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</li>
</ul>
<div>
Guess it's time to get everyone up.</div>
Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-79153239646655549292016-02-11T20:14:00.002-08:002016-02-12T04:21:49.091-08:00Unfocused: Week 4Wednesday. We sit at the table with the pages of his planner filling the space between us. "Did you talk to your teacher about your missing writing assignment?" He answers, and the beginning of doubt pricks my heart and mind. We continue to talk. A sound becomes present in a corner of my hearing. Crunch. Smack. Slurp. Munch. My head snaps towards this cacophony while the once undetected burning ember of impatience ignites within me. Before a thought crosses my mind, I react. "Chew with your mouth closed!" The unsuspecting recipient of my wrath looks up. Suddenly my attention turns to this one, and my words are not chosen wisely. My heart pounds, my temper flares, my focus scatters.<br />
<br />
I breathe in awareness. I breathe out apology. Refocus. Scouts. "I'm going to make a list of calls you need to make tonight for merit badges. How are you coming with snow sports? Have you printed off the worksheet why haven't you printed it off let's find it do you remember who your merit badge counselor is let's write down a script of what you should say what do you mean you don't have his number," I fire in rapid succession. His white flag is raised.<br />
<br />
Focus. Unfocused.<br />
<br />
Writing this brings tears to my eyes. There are a series of channels replaying in my mind. Each a similar show.<br />
<br />
Tuesday. Started dark and quiet. Alarm ringing. Regret. Snooze. Alarm again. I stumble down the stairs for coffee and hope for a moment of quiet reflection before chaos. Chaos is not expected, however, as I leave for work before the kids are up. Morning chaos is the dad's worry today. <br />
<br />
Snowy roads. Backed up traffic. Work. I leave for the orthodontist. Late. I pick up the oldest daughter. We go to lunch. Phone rings. School warns detention for another. This one coughs. Now more phone calls, a doctor's appointment, asthma, medicine, after school, grab snacks, back to work with everyone in tow. Late. Tonight our family presents a talk on communication to top notch nursing students. My badge is missing, the elevator opens and a brand new baby comes on, we exit because my bigs have big germs and this little needs to fight. My hands shake, my heart pounds, not ready, I smile, we begin. Everyone home. Everyone shower. Everyone bed. I sit.<br />
<br />
Focus. Unfocused.<br />
<br />
Webster defines the word unfocused as "not relating to or directed toward one specific thing (such as a particular goal or task)." <br />
<br />
I argue internally. You're unfocused. I am focused. On the calendar. On the next presentation. The next game. The next assignment. The next book. The next class. The next need. The next unexpected. Raising children. To reach their potential. To love their Father. To have opportunity and respect that opportunity. A job. That stretches me but pulls me from those children at times, and other times brings us together. On being a Proverbs 31 wife and rising to the task of being the wife God calls me to be. Being a daughter. Knowing what it means to be the daughter of a woman who raised me well and is independent and growing in age.<br />
<br />
I am. Focus. Unfocused.<br />
<br />
<br />Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-28330264270664881562016-01-24T19:02:00.000-08:002016-01-24T19:05:09.352-08:00Week 3: SimplicitySimplicity is beginning to mean back to basics. Simplicity this week meant homemade chocolate chip cookies on a surprise snow day.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot2N96kxll0/VqWM6V9D7OI/AAAAAAAAFks/TWmBgqMeDjU/s1600/IMG_6451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot2N96kxll0/VqWM6V9D7OI/AAAAAAAAFks/TWmBgqMeDjU/s640/IMG_6451.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet helpers in the kitchen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mHbKbn9TyaQ/VqWM5rQlhQI/AAAAAAAAFko/BKuUZPvdya4/s1600/IMG_6452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mHbKbn9TyaQ/VqWM5rQlhQI/AAAAAAAAFko/BKuUZPvdya4/s640/IMG_6452.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone is willing to help EAT the cookies!</td></tr>
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When the kids were younger and I stayed home full time, we baked a lot. Back then we didn't eat a ton of sweets except for what I baked in my own kitchen. Today, with everyone running hither and yon and kids making choices at school for lunch that include cookies and sugary snacks every day, we just don't have time nor caloric back space to fill with sweets at home. On Wednesday, though, when I came home from work and most of the kids were out playing in the snow, I decided to grab cookie ingredients from the cabinet and throw together a batch of goodness like I did when the kids were smaller and times just seem to have been simpler.<br />
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It may sound small, but this act was a simple one of love, of tugging out memories that are fading so quickly from the brain spaces. I am so grateful that this week we were able to slow down on a snowy day to enjoy an afternoon at home at a slow enough pace that we could enjoy the sights, smells, and tastes of this childhood treasure: warm chocolate chip cookies dunked in a glass of creamy cold milk. <br />
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Yum - oh.<br />
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<br />Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-19524729724516955802016-01-17T20:50:00.000-08:002016-01-24T19:15:41.236-08:00Week 2: Interpret a Song - BreatheMy favorite song right now is <i>Breathe</i> by Jonny Diaz. Every time it comes on the radio, Meiners says, "Mom! The right song at the right time!" because really? I need that song every moment of every day. After the millionth moment of absolutely losing my marbles this week, I posted this in our kitchen:<br />
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"No Drama Momma" became my battle cry. I have to admit - it helped. Mostly. I would guess my moments of complete and utter loss of control of my patience reduced by...maybe 10%? Nah. I kid. Mostly. </div>
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Way more like 12%.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma and Grandpa came for pasta dinner and a sold out Beginning Violin concert!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grammie enjoyed dinner and the concert, too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yikes. Just breathe? Baby?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ouch. Breathe. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xopenex helps her Breathe!</td></tr>
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In addition to BREATHING and REMEMBERING that Jesus wins in the midst of the chaos of single-parenting while The Mister worked out of town with a winter concert this week and extra rehearsals, basketball practices, breakfasts and dinners and crazy school lunch spending, three different school starts, work, two hour bean bag snuggle conversations discussing painful childhood moments for one of my people, and additional doctor's visits because someone broke his arm, we also enjoyed an exorbitant amount of coughing that led to a stethoscope to a chest and every-four-hour breathing treatments. Oh yeah. Breathe. And Just Be. Because chaos calls and all I really need is for Him to blow air into my lungs (and into hers!) and to keep me moving and going and ultimately worshiping because truly, that is the only point. He reigns. He gives. He wins. It is good. It is good to rest at God's feet, and to just be. Take it in. Fill your lungs with the peace of God that overcomes. Lay down what's good and find what's best. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love this kid!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He is just the best!</td></tr>
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Love.</div>
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Lyrics to Jonny Diaz's song Breathe:<br />
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Alarm clock screaming bare feet hit the floor<br />
It’s off to the races everybody out the door<br />
I’m feeling like I’m falling behind, it’s a crazy life<br />
Ninety miles an hour going fast as I can<br />
Trying to push a little harder trying to get the upper hand<br />
So much to do in so little time, it’s a crazy life<br />
It’s ready, set, go it’s another wild day<br />
When the stress is on the rise in my heart I feel you say just<br />
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Breathe, just breathe<br />
Come and rest at my feet<br />
And be, just be<br />
Chaos calls but all you really need<br />
Is to just breathe<br />
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Third cup of joe just to get me through the day<br />
Want to make the most of time but I feel it slip away<br />
I wonder if there’s something more to this crazy life<br />
I’m busy, busy, busy, and it’s no surprise to see<br />
That I only have time for me, me, me<br />
There’s gotta be something more to this crazy life<br />
I’m hanging on tight to another wild day<br />
When it starts to fall apart in my heart I hear you say just<br />
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Breathe, just breathe<br />
Come and rest at my feet<br />
And be, just be<br />
Chaos calls but all you really need<br />
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Is to take it in fill your lungs<br />
The peace of God that overcomes<br />
Just breathe<br />
So let your weary spirit rest<br />
Lay down what’s good and find what’s best<br />
Just breathe<br />
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Just breathe, just breathe<br />
Come and rest at my feet<br />
And be, just be<br />
Chaos calls but all you really need<br />
Is to just breathe<br />
Just breathe</div>
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And the video:<br />
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Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-77304306359484782562016-01-10T20:20:00.000-08:002016-01-24T19:17:29.248-08:00Week 1: Beginnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
2016 is upon us, and I am challenged by the beginning of a new year <i>and</i> a dear friend. Let's get started!</div>
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I do try to keep the kids' activities to only one apiece, but this year I threw all restraint to the wind. The kids are doing more than ever, and so are The Mister and I. First up, ice skating lessons.</div>
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The kids' big brothers and big sisters invited them to ice skate in December. The idea is a great one in theory, but only Sashi has ice skated before. With the fear of Pookie falling and the awareness of how sore my back was after helping only Sashi skate with Girl Scouts last year, I knew having them go with the med school kids would be disastrous. Insert ice skating lessons as an experience gift for Christmas. Great idea! Only The Mister didn't think so. He was convinced someone would get hurt. "But the first thing they'll learn is how to fall safely! What could go wrong?!" I questioned repeatedly. </div>
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First Ice Skating Lesson Day came on Friday. All the kids were excited! A few of them eagerly awaited the start of class so impatiently that they insisted on going out on the ice before lessons began. Initially, I firmly said, "No!" but my resolve abated and out they went. Except the oldest. He said he would stay put. My absent-minded-because-I-was-intensely-preoccupied-with-worry-about-the-three-already-on-the-ice response of "Do whatever you want T" came across as a taunt, so out he went. He made it to the middle and back - I was thrilled! When he shuffled out one more time, however, he took a tumble while I wasn't looking, and the rest, as they say, is history. Arm broken, skating lessons, snowboarding lessons, and basketball on hold. (I said I had thrown our cautious schedule to the wind, right? Maybe this is God's way of saying I really should slow down. Maybe.)</div>
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Another first and new beginning is CYC basketball for Meiners. He played with Upward for five years but looked for a more competitive league this year. Unfortunately for my little athlete, he didn't make the Junior High team :( :( :( so he decided to try the catholic league. It hasn't been without bumps in the road - boys who have played together themselves for years found it difficult to welcome a new boy, but his second game was this weekend. They didn't win, but last year his team was Division III and they won the league, so they were moved up to Division I. Then, the team they played yesterday was the team who won the entire championship last year. Great competition for Meiners to improve upon! He came off the court red faced and sweaty, having loved every minute of it! Seems it will work out just fine.</div>
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Other beginnings include new books for Sashi. At Barnes and Noble this week, she chose the newest American Girl book. She was thrilled to discover Lea is from St. Louis! I love that the St. Louis heroine is traveling to Brazil and will be studying animals. Little S thinks for now that she herself will be either a vet or a teacher. We also bought her a pristine, new Kumon book to practice her multiplication. That particular book thrills her far less. I'll take the good with the bad. ;)<!--3--></div>
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For me, the end of my quiet, leisurely mornings by the tree before dawn, sipping on toasty chocolate-laced coffee and immersing myself in bible study, listening to the newest Amy Grant Christmas CD or simply reading for pleasure has come. Instead, 5AM workouts have begun again. 6AM kid wake up calls have returned. Slurping cold coffee between trips to school and hopping in the shower at the last minute before running to work has become my new normal again. I've contemplated words for the year and resolutions, loosely landing on "Joy" and "Prayer," neither finding itself on a necklace or refrigerator magnet. Resolutions are more contemplations in my mind than decisions, yet this one - this 52 week challenge - came at the right time. A good time to begin photos and writing, connecting and catching up. <br />
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Here's to Happy Beginnings in 2016!</div>
<!--3-->Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-1365697917161558582014-11-01T00:00:00.000-07:002014-11-01T05:23:15.826-07:00November 1st: What We Did in OctoberI spent a lot of time yesterday morning re-reading a whole bunch of my blog. The overwhelming theme I read was the same theme I now write. I'm a mess, there's no time, and I want to get this season in writing.<br />
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There must be a lesson there.<br />
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So, I thought I would recap October - a truly incredible month of living here at our house, and worth repeating.<br />
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Early:<br />
Early in the month, J spent a lot of time preparing our yard for new landscaping. We decided the overwhelming amounts of ivy needed to go. He dug it all out himself, pulled out all the old bushes and trees (except those two awesome burning bushes), and ended up needing to grind a stump or two.<br />
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Right after I snapped this picture of my man hard at work, our neighbor came out and said this stump belonged to him. This led to a couple of land surveys - his and ours - that ultimately determined he was correct. It was a bummer, because our little spot on the planet grew a little smaller, but we aren't persnickety about it. It was disappointing, but that was all. Well, that and we now have to move the landscaping that went in before the surveys. <br />
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Didn't it turn out beautifully, though? We love it! I can't wait to see the new bushes bloom in the spring!<br />
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It made me laugh that the kids were *this* into watching the men planting:<br />
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This month we also trekked to a food truck fundraiser for some friends of ours who started a foundation when one of their twin daughters was born with a congenital heart defect. It was pretty chilly, but the food was tasty, it was for a fabulous cause, we saw one of my four chambered heart Bazouki, and Family Time is always fun, regardless!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">isn't that sunset beautiful?!</td></tr>
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We tried out our new Six Flags Season Passes by attending Fright Fest. I was not looking forward to this - I *hate* roller coasters, but, like I said, "Family Time is Fun" and the Mister was WAY into it, so I tagged along;). I road the Mine Train, came off it shaking like a leaf and nearly sobbing, and J let me off the hook the rest of the day. (Thank you Jesus.) Meiners did a pretty good job trying a few coasters, too, and Sashi? Holy Cow she tried a few I don't think she should have, but she only cried after Screamin' Eagle. She was VERY brave. The twins, of course, were Dare Devils. They rode EVERYTHING. Oh - it was also chilly and a lil rainy, but no one's spirits were dampened by it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">riding the ferris wheel - just about my speed ... and I forgot, that morning we all spoke in front of church about our family's summer mission trip (see shirt)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moon Cars were *always* my favorite as a child!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me -n- my sweet girl</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me -n- my other sweet girl! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">smart alec</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">to J's surprise - I road this one. Several times. I admit, I was freaked out, but not *that* much. Love this pic!</td></tr>
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I needed some pictures for work and for a new phone case, so we grabbed a few spare moments (and a lot of yelling as two kids duked it out) to achieve these:<br />
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In the middle of the month, during the coldest weekend, J prepared for his survival weekend re-do with his two buddies. They nearly froze to death, but I think they enjoyed it in spite of the cold. Plus, that temp of 37 degrees in a grass hut adds to the storytelling possibilities!<br />
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The twins went to their first overnight church camp:<br />
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And these two thought they might sleep out under the stars in this:<br />
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I said no.<br />
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I ran-ish the St. Louis Rock-n-Roll half marathon in J's place on a cold Sunday morning.<br />
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Oh man was it excruciating. I haven't really run since the same weekend last year in San Francisco. And that's a long time not to run but to decide to run 13. lol.<br />
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The following weekend, and nearing the end of October, it was time to go Cub Scout camping. J and Meiners built an award-winning catapult.<br />
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Pookie got new glasses:<br />
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Our annual bike trip along the Mississippi turned into a hike when Meiners' bike broke 200 yards into the excursion...but we made the absolute best of it, on the prettiest weekend of the month!<br />
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After the hike and a drive through the adorable village of Elsa, we ended up in Grafton - with treats for the kids and treats for the adults - who knew there was a party cove on the Mississippi? It was just a little bit perfect.<br />
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We came home to a busy week of crazy hair days, doctors' and orthodontist appointments, as well as last minute Halloween costume shopping.<br />
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And that brings us to Halloween. This was our first Halloween at our new house. The kids were excited to go trick-or treating with the neighbors; of course, the twins went to friends' houses. It was a successful and fun, albeit cold, night for all.<br />
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Here is to the wonderful blessing of a grateful November.Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-59515626957476373132014-10-31T08:03:00.000-07:002014-10-31T08:03:44.871-07:0031 Days of Writing and Why It Won't Work for MeI'm too busy! <br />
<br />
I wake up at 4:30 in the morning to work out. Even when I decide it is just not a morning I am going to get out of bed hours before sunrise, I still wake up. Every day. {That kinda stinks for someone who spent 39 years of her life as a night owl.}<br />
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I worked almost every day in October. Judge me as you will, but I still have not adjusted to this whole "working mom" gig. Clothes go unfolded. For weeks. Floors aren't vacuumed. Despite my yelling. Dinner is pizza. Again. And again. And again.<br />
<br />
And again.<br />
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I think I used to blog during nap time. Oh how I loved nap time. Or I blogged late at night, whereas now, I am headed for bed at the same time as the kids cuz 4:30 comes VERY early if my eyes aren't dark by 9:30.<br />
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It's a good life. It's a good busy. It's passing too fast and I want it to slow down, I will it to do so. The reality is, though, that every time I brainstorm ways to cut the extracurriculars or see myself serving pizza. Again. I see value in the things that we are doing that are making us busy. <br />
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So there was one day of blogging in 31 days of October (two if you count today). I guess that's a good place to start.<br />
<br />Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-30032025431594921532014-10-08T09:23:00.000-07:002014-10-09T07:21:57.705-07:0031 Days: Day 8 and I'm already 7 days behindI created a loose goal as "<a href="http://write31days.com/what-is-31-days/"><i>31 Days</i> October</a>" neared. My goal became writing. Period.<br />
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I don't remember why I decided recently to look at the blog again, but I did. I rediscovered what I once knew more readily - that countless meaningful memories are documented here. Yet literally for years, the blog lay dormant. I decided to "try" to write for 31 days in October. I'm not writing for critics - good gracious they are plentiful, probably well-intentioned(?), and, while free to their opinions, best kept out of mind. I am writing for myself mostly and maybe for my children a little, as well. <br />
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When I opened the blog recently, I recounted a story to Mr. T who happened to be close. I asked him about <a href="http://6byhisdesign.blogspot.com/2010/12/seriously-creative.html" rel="nofollow">his skyscraper gingerbread hous</a>e, whether he remembered it. The next time I opened the computer he uses, I found the blog opened on his home page. <br />
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<3 br="">
I remembered that it matters. It matters to me and to my children to journal, to document, to ponder in a space. I don't believe it needs to be a public space - perhaps it would be best, in fact, if it weren't. But this blog does allow my children easy access into their mother's thoughts today and years from now, plus the venue is open and available and fun, actually. Plus, I always felt connected to others from the blog.<br />
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I loosely created a goal to write for 31 days to see how it went. I am already 7 days behind. I guess Yoda was right. "There is no try. There is only do or do not."<br />
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And so I do.<!--3--><!--3--><!--3--><!--3--></3>Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-78378080927374761082014-10-08T09:09:00.000-07:002014-10-09T07:22:12.928-07:00October 7th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She is light and fun, sassy but so sweet, a dear and genuine friend. When Pookie had her seventh open heart surgery last spring, it was she who texted at midnight to say, "I am headed to bed. You were the last thought in my mind before sleep" and another day at 6AM to say, "Thinking of you, and praying for you right now." Quiet love. Constant but not overbearing. I told her I wanted to be her when I grew up. To be that kind of friend.<br />
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Today is her birthday. I sent her a text while shopping. I said, "Did you know there are no birthday cards that read: Today sucks. Happy Birthday anyway?"<br />
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She is 41 today. She has cancer and starts 10 days of round-the-clock chemo tomorrow. I love her and do not know how life would look without the fourth chamber of my Bazouki heart.<br />
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Please pray for her, for her three sweet babies. For their strength. And for their hearts. Complete earthly healing Lord, God of Miracles. That is all that is acceptable.Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-52638236521697144952014-10-08T08:58:00.002-07:002014-10-09T07:22:25.223-07:00October 6thMonday.<br />
<br />
Diana is on vacation, so Kids Day Out is insane. Those kids need a little Diana-style "don't take prisoners but follow the rules people" kind of leadership. Kisses don't get wet paint paper pumpkins to dry before 1:00 and little ones to stop sobbing over a transition to chapel that makes a twin echo the sentiment. Even though he separated so beautifully from his momma right out the gate this morning.<br />
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I am not proud, but it was a Margarita Monday.<br />
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After work of course. <br />
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Praise God for healed tummies. And progress with 2 year-olds, even if it ends up being two steps back. And naps in the car during musical theatre, a husband who baked the go-to last minute pizza meal, and early bedtimes.Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-65635734615978123812014-10-08T08:45:00.000-07:002014-10-09T07:22:43.110-07:00October 5thIt's a soccer time of year. We have three in soccer this year. It's a first. It's crazy.<br />
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This weekend, we have three soccer games at three different times (thankfully, really) at three different locations. Apparently, it's also against the rules to post pictures of CYC games without written permission from the other team. So we won't be doing that. <br />
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But here are some from the Baptist league - they aren't so picky:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-32KBrLx-QZs/VDVafHlGXFI/AAAAAAAAFac/zPtR9M-2XlY/s1600/IMG_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-32KBrLx-QZs/VDVafHlGXFI/AAAAAAAAFac/zPtR9M-2XlY/s1600/IMG_0017.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's Mr. T in the blurry electric blue shorts in the middle yellow shirt - goalie!</td></tr>
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It was also a "Let's Make This Place Festive and Get Out of This Funk" kind of weekend, so out came the Halloween decorations. The kids helped a little. I really need to let go of that control more. Everything Meiners put out was perfectly positioned, but my first response when they ask, "Can I help?" is like fingers on a chalkboard and dissonant noise in my ear - I hike my shoulders up to my earballs and sneak off like I didn't hear. Poor kids. <br />
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Happy Fall!Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-33963956621507412922014-10-08T08:34:00.002-07:002014-10-09T07:22:54.126-07:00October 4thHappy 16th Anniversary Honey. I love you. Looking forward to celebrating soon. Right now, I think that Orange Beso from Canyon Cafe wouldn't sit well. Soon. You're the best!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pre-celebrating - last week</td></tr>
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<br />Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-37301655522507876252014-10-08T08:29:00.001-07:002014-10-09T07:23:07.498-07:00October 3rdWe went to dinner last night, and my stomach felt a little off. The hairs on the back of my neck were up since The Mister came home sick from work in the middle of the day two days ago with a stomach bug. And he *never* comes home sick from work.<br />
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Indeed. Whereas I woke to this handsome face this morning and the prospect of a sweet day spent together celebrating our 16 years of marriage...<br />
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I was sick, and his face turned into this:<br />
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Mine too.<br />
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He went and bought us new phones, and the twins new phones, too. Which made their faces look like this:<br />
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Those expressions are actually pretty tame compared to the screaming Pookie exhibited as she came running upstairs to see her "surprise" after school.<br />
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I watched the high school parade in isolation from the bedroom deck. <br />
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And stayed home alone while three went to the football game and two went to a Homecoming party. I watched Mom's Night Out and folded laundry. It was a fiesta for my soul while my body rested. I look forward to feeling better as soon as possible.Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-7429376848297678232014-10-08T08:14:00.004-07:002014-10-09T07:23:29.815-07:00October 2ndWhen I blogged before, I was a stay at home mom.<br />
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Funny, but to this day I still write "SAHM" on intake paperwork at doctor's offices and such, even though I now have two paying jobs <i>plus</i> the gig of Mom. It's just kind of easier to say. Plus, it's all the same phone number, and not enough space to explain, so "stay at home mom" works. No one asks questions. And I don't make much money, anyway, so they won't be coming to me as "Party Responsible for Payment."<br />
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At social parties when people ask what I do, I start out by saying I'm a preschool teacher. And that's true. Mostly. I work in Kids Day Out and am paid as a "caregiver" ...but I prefer to say "teacher" because that sounds more significant and meaningful, and because I believe our work in the classroom is not only a job of providing care - changing diapers, etc., but one of teaching, as well. "We use a chair for sitting, not for hitting." "Crayons are for paper, not to poke in noses or to color on walls." That kind of thing. I work with my best friend, and I get paid to kiss on 2 year-olds all day - my favorite age to teach, so it's a double win.<br />
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I go on to tell attentive party listeners that my second job is a bit more "convoluted" and difficult to explain. Knowing they are enraptured at this point, I continue. "I am a parent actor at the children's hospital where I play the role of mom at the bedside in their simulation department. They recreate medical scenarios like code situations using a robot baby and real doctors and nurses, and I pretend to be the robot baby's momma. I actually run their family actors program." <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of my family actors comforting our SimBaby before our scenario begins</td></tr>
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I never know if I've lost my audience by then or not. OK, usually I have. But if they were to understand, or if perhaps I was better at my delivery, I would tell them how incredible the Family Actors Program is, how much fun I am having this year leading it. I would tell them about the incredible team I work with and how we are affecting important change in the lives of 100s of medical students and professionals who may one day be better prepared to compassionately interact with and save the life of one our loved ones because of the moments they spend pretending with me and my team. That's good stuff. That's important work. <br />
<br />
It's groundbreaking, really, as most hospitals - if they have simulations at all - use paid actors or other staff to stand in as parents. We are real family members who are invested in the hospital because we take our children there. Over and over we hear from staff how having us there makes the scenario far more realistic as they practice, and that's because we *are* real. We are being ourselves. <br />
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That's what I did today. I raised my babies, taught others' babies, and changed lives for babies. All in a pretty darn good day's work.Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-57302759994038730292014-10-01T21:19:00.002-07:002014-10-09T07:23:49.318-07:0031 days of Tired and Worn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">I'm tired, I'm worn, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">My heart is heavy</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">From the work it takes to keep on breathing </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’ve made mistakes</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’ve let my hope fail </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">My soul feels crushed by the weight of this world </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">And I know that you can give me rest </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">So I cry out with all that I have left </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/tenth-avenue-north/worn-lyrics/#ZMUcu6FecIoTsq6o.99</span><br />
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Like a tired pair of shoes, I sit at the computer tonight, determined to be renewed. Today was a remarkable day of new hearts for a 19 year-old beauty queen, fear of leukemia in a Bazouki friend, and an overriding sense that God loves. Even in our tired, worn-out days. </span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Thunder cracks against the night sky as I sit and love Him in return. We don't deserve it. I don't "get it." But He reigns. He wins. And in that alone is any hope I have in this screwed up world.</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Thank you, Lord, for a new heart for Angela. Though my own heart breaks for the family who made the decision to save another in the midst of their loss, God reigns. He wins. May Angela live the life He dreams for her!</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I pray for my Bazouki Nation. Rally the Troops. He reigns. He wins.</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Good night, dear friends. Supernatural Rest for all.</span>Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-15733624743250609992013-01-03T19:39:00.000-08:002013-01-03T19:39:16.976-08:00New Year, New Traditions?A new year begins with new resolutions. A resolve to change, improve, or at least revise. A do over. Start again. Refresh.<br />
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I am grateful that God gives us these times. Sometimes a new school year. Sometimes a new season. Now a new calendar year. A fresh start.<br />
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Starting new this year means thinking of that half marathon looming yet again come spring. Fewer trips to Bread Co. Healthier eating and more regimented living. Inevitably chaos wins. I am somehow OK with that.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e9SQ_nZTyH8/UOZJpgL510I/AAAAAAAAFF4/WS_1yP8NtGo/s1600/IMG_7637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e9SQ_nZTyH8/UOZJpgL510I/AAAAAAAAFF4/WS_1yP8NtGo/s640/IMG_7637.JPG" width="640" /></a>This year I think also of traditions. What continues? What evolves? What fades? Do we spend enough time forming these bonds of ritual in our family? Should we spend more time, do more things? What about less?<br />
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You know what thought came to me while I hashed and rehashed these thoughts during the first few hours and days of 2013? I began to wonder what my kids will want me to pass down to them when the time comes. Those things - items wrapped in the sentimentality of the tradition behind them - are strangely caught up in my mind as the stuff that matters tonight.<br />
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I guess I'm thinking of Christmas mostly. It is certainly a time of sweet remembrance. The wooden advent calendar, the Willow Tree nativity, the ornaments. These are the things that come out, even when we head to Disney World instead of doing our normal, more "traditional" routines. <br />
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So much to think about. To be grateful for. To anticipate and celebrate. <br />
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Here's to the moments of 2012 ...and to the living of 2013. <br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">Happy New Year everyone!</span></div>
Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-76758549757298895002012-10-24T20:43:00.002-07:002012-10-25T13:00:36.814-07:00when blood is thicker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday the boys clammered into the van after Read Right Run practice. "Mom," Meiners whined. "Today T made me be buddies with him and I wanted to be buddies with my friend."<br />
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I paused to inhale a big breath. My Wednesday small group ladies have been devouring Lysa Terkeurst's book <em>Unglued</em>, and this could definitely become one of those destructive meltdown mommy moments if I wasn't careful. First of all, that whole whining thing? It immediately shoves me angrily plummeting over the rocky ledge. But loyalty to family is a trait we constantly impress upon our children and here was my son bucking that concept. Boldly.<br />
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"Son," I exhaled. "I don't care what friend or what girl is on whatever team or space you are in from here to eternity." I began. "When your brother asks you to help him by buddying up, you buddy up. Period. The end."<br />
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I don't suppose this concept flies everyone's kite out in the world, but that is how this family rolls. <br />
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Two hours later, I sat in the van in the driveway of T's violin teacher with the two little kids. The radio played; the rain poured; I may or may not have taken a nap. Apparently, the lights of the van were left on. When I turned the key in the ignition to take us all home, there was a *click click click.* And then there was nothing.<br />
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My brother- and sister-in-law live just around the corner from violin lessons. We live a long way from there. I called my sister-in-law and, within a few minutes, her husband was on his way to save us from our cul-de-sac nightmare.<br />
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Later, as we drove home, my boys marveled at how blood really is thicker than water.<br />
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Thanks, Uncle Michael, for saving the day ~ and for giving your nephews a nice little object lesson. You're a family hero!Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-61345850110089995232012-10-09T21:07:00.006-07:002012-10-24T21:09:54.627-07:00my life by iPhoneI have 607 photos on my iPhone. I know this because tonight I went to upload a few photos to share here as a ~ sort of ~ monthly memoir, and as I pushed the buttons to transfer the photos from one device to the other, the number 607 popped up.<br />
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Why on earth would anyone have 607 photos on her phone? It's not like I use my phone's storage to share photos of my kids with strangers I'm just meeting or anything techno-savvy like that. I enjoy a nice perusing once in a while that jogs memories of that lunch at Bread Co with Sara or the 16 funny faces Pooks took of herself at the pumpkin patch Saturday, but 607 random photos on an iPhone seems extreme.<br />
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That's why I'm uploading 607 photos to my laptop tonight. Apparently, storing them on a laptop carved out specifically for only my eyes seems like a much more legitimate location to store 607 random photos of my life.<br />
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I hope it's not a mistake.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RkQi4xJbrEI/UIi4IRLnj3I/AAAAAAAAFCU/8yIYgEgtnYY/s1600/IMG_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RkQi4xJbrEI/UIi4IRLnj3I/AAAAAAAAFCU/8yIYgEgtnYY/s320/IMG_0068.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare one with me and my pooks. Love that girl.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OCyV7B_JlyQ/UIi4M2psEYI/AAAAAAAAFCc/KsIb6h8dXRc/s1600/IMG_0124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OCyV7B_JlyQ/UIi4M2psEYI/AAAAAAAAFCc/KsIb6h8dXRc/s320/IMG_0124.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A favorite Bread Co moment with Sashi and her Daddy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QudA-InjcmY/UIi4TmxWgfI/AAAAAAAAFCk/lnXnMayV1Zo/s1600/IMG_0383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QudA-InjcmY/UIi4TmxWgfI/AAAAAAAAFCk/lnXnMayV1Zo/s320/IMG_0383.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh my gosh - isn't she so cute?? At Rocky Mountain National Park.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-81gz-JGBTF8/UIi4ZsOlN9I/AAAAAAAAFCs/bKJoR74Dnww/s1600/IMG_0506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-81gz-JGBTF8/UIi4ZsOlN9I/AAAAAAAAFCs/bKJoR74Dnww/s320/IMG_0506.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a scavenger hunt in Chicago during family mission trip. "Hug an employee." Check.</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rbS0NzcBYJo/UIi4edmlkFI/AAAAAAAAFC0/_SR5fkBoQW8/s1600/IMG_0562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rbS0NzcBYJo/UIi4edmlkFI/AAAAAAAAFC0/_SR5fkBoQW8/s320/IMG_0562.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a date with my sweet boy. After Pi? Cupcakes Baby!</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_X2JLnq8oFU/UIi4i5rhb_I/AAAAAAAAFC8/spxzEvb9sWo/s1600/IMG_0567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_X2JLnq8oFU/UIi4i5rhb_I/AAAAAAAAFC8/spxzEvb9sWo/s320/IMG_0567.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really there are no words. He is an original. At pick up at heart camp.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J8o5CD_D-uw/UIi4n08MiII/AAAAAAAAFDE/9gXbDoMbTcU/s1600/IMG_0599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J8o5CD_D-uw/UIi4n08MiII/AAAAAAAAFDE/9gXbDoMbTcU/s320/IMG_0599.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oooooooh! Flying across the northern coast of south america!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S9ipHOXTOFc/UIi4qS9G4gI/AAAAAAAAFDM/rPq2bZLDZWo/s1600/IMG_0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S9ipHOXTOFc/UIi4qS9G4gI/AAAAAAAAFDM/rPq2bZLDZWo/s320/IMG_0018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my baby daddy before his company Christmas party. Quite a night.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ldP7WTCTXA0/UIi4vvuyi1I/AAAAAAAAFDU/546eqB-L2pU/s1600/IMG_0139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ldP7WTCTXA0/UIi4vvuyi1I/AAAAAAAAFDU/546eqB-L2pU/s320/IMG_0139.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hahaha! The day after Meiners took a hit to the face in basketball. <br />
He refused to go to school, so we went to the zoo.<br />
Don't tell anyone.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xlG5fkRrgi4/UIi4z_ytyFI/AAAAAAAAFDc/q1-L88ouiNM/s1600/IMG_0744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xlG5fkRrgi4/UIi4z_ytyFI/AAAAAAAAFDc/q1-L88ouiNM/s320/IMG_0744.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peace.<br />
My last morning in Lima before my private tour guide arrived.<br />
Love.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yXXenjEhTHY/UIi49PUIapI/AAAAAAAAFDk/wZFWIwnZIkE/s1600/IMG_0859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yXXenjEhTHY/UIi49PUIapI/AAAAAAAAFDk/wZFWIwnZIkE/s320/IMG_0859.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous sunset at Parents vs. Teachers football game.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTYV2ws6x9g/UIi4_42FlxI/AAAAAAAAFDs/NBvHybxYUyo/s1600/IMG_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTYV2ws6x9g/UIi4_42FlxI/AAAAAAAAFDs/NBvHybxYUyo/s320/IMG_0039.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What mom is doing at every school event through the eyes of Pooks.<br />
PTO Photographer</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qX0r82P6kGI/UIi5C52k04I/AAAAAAAAFD0/hRePMeVsSW4/s1600/IMG_0476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qX0r82P6kGI/UIi5C52k04I/AAAAAAAAFD0/hRePMeVsSW4/s320/IMG_0476.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting my lil niece for the first time last summer.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tiQUUJI8YYo/UIi5Ikzl-pI/AAAAAAAAFD4/fUTcyJeVsnQ/s1600/IMG_0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tiQUUJI8YYo/UIi5Ikzl-pI/AAAAAAAAFD4/fUTcyJeVsnQ/s320/IMG_0772.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First pair of earrings I made for Monarch.<br />
I wear them constantly.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nLnu8Jget7Q/UIi5MNaDouI/AAAAAAAAFEA/IsAQSZkHREA/s1600/IMG_0545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nLnu8Jget7Q/UIi5MNaDouI/AAAAAAAAFEA/IsAQSZkHREA/s320/IMG_0545.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty impressive mother-daughter pancake duo, <br />
if I do say so myself.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPOtz4IOxMc/UIi5SdquW_I/AAAAAAAAFEM/kaKdOPa27zs/s1600/IMG_0866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPOtz4IOxMc/UIi5SdquW_I/AAAAAAAAFEM/kaKdOPa27zs/s320/IMG_0866.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow. Such a great shot at the zoo! Love this guy.<br />
Who's watching who at the St. Louis Zoo?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nvyPBWo5HLc/UIi5YnDRITI/AAAAAAAAFEU/nv4gsTLeiaw/s1600/IMG_0920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nvyPBWo5HLc/UIi5YnDRITI/AAAAAAAAFEU/nv4gsTLeiaw/s320/IMG_0920.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to snap a photo of Meiners with his pets for his<br />All About Me page in scouts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F-vhtWsZbms/UIi5f3dA2bI/AAAAAAAAFEc/5dctzXO74y8/s1600/IMG_0904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F-vhtWsZbms/UIi5f3dA2bI/AAAAAAAAFEc/5dctzXO74y8/s320/IMG_0904.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fashion Documentary<br />
Some days are better than others.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-85295558935155806762012-08-22T21:53:00.000-07:002012-08-22T21:53:22.542-07:00So ~ What about Compassion??I <strong>have</strong> to tell you about Compassion International. I firmly believe it is <em>imperative</em> that you understand what Compassion is doing for the children in Peru ~ and around the world, I am sure, but I can speak from experience about Peru!<br />
<br />
First, I went on this trip with a misguided sense of what Compassion does. I've read blogs and followed Compassion-sponsored trips for a few years, yet I envisioned a school with a giant billboard, arrow pointing down at some sort of pale colored building, reading "Compassion School!" Of course, this makes little sense, as much mission work is frowned upon in Peru (as in many other countries, as well). So, it took some time to process the realities of what we were going to see and then what we did see.<br />
<br />
Compassion is not a school ~ in the sense that children attend public and private schools for their readin', writin', and 'rithmetic, if you catch my drift. No, Compassion partners with the local church, and focuses on four needs: spiritual, economic, social and physical. At the project we visited, these areas are addressed in before or after school programs.<br />
<br />
*screeeeeeeeeeech!* (brakes, friends. Puttin' 'em on for a lil demo-demo...)<br />
<br />
This is my Nicole:<br />
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Oh my goodness isn't she adorable? Look at that smile!!! *I miss you sweet baby!*<br />
<br />
Monday, Nicole and I sat for <em>two hours</em> doing this:<br />
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For two hours! We sat and played with these little blocks - I can't think what they're called --- but they are very similar to blocks that we use in the US during intelligence testing. For two hours I asked her about animals and colors and numbers, and home. I discovered my spanish is <em>just</em> good enough to communicate with a 6 year-old ;)! Three times adults came by and told me in perfectly fluent spanish (!!!) about Nicole's life. I found a translator, and this is what I heard about this sweet angel baby:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Today Nicole is six. When she was three, she was a very hyperactive child. She was so uncontrollable her mother locked her in her room all day because she was not able to control her. Nicole would scream and cry and bang on the windows in her efforts to escape the room. The neighbors called the church and asked them to intervene. She began attending Compassion classes. But she would escape her classrooms and climb the walls of the church. The pastor was afraid for her safety. He asked the psychologist who works weekly with some of the Compassion kids to work with her. Meanwhile, the Compassion folks helped her father find a steady job. Now three years later, she sits, plays, and is super, super intelligent. Pastor Jose described her as, “intelligentissimo!” VERY smart!</blockquote>
Seriously ~ wow, right? What would have come of this amazing human being if not for God's grace through Compassion?? Here's more. Nicole clung to this petite tangerine. Here's a pic of another little girl holding tight to a similar piece of fruit way past lunchtime:<br />
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Nicole hid her tangerine in her lap, behind her back, one time it sort of rolled away and she crawled across the floor to retrieve it.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you eat your fruit?" I asked her.<br />
"I save it for home," she answered.<br />
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Like a stab to the heart. Here's what Compassion feeds these kids while they are at the project:<br />
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That is a <span style="font-size: large;">huge</span> plate of food. Made from scratch, friends. Compassion has strict nutrition guidelines the cooks have to follow ~ no pre-fab chicken nuggets or any ketchup considered to be a fruit in those kitchens! The children receive a meal like this three times per week through Compassion ~ every day they attend.<br />
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Here's another - oh man my mouth is watering!<br />
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Look at these adorable ladies who cook for the kids every day ~ aren't they super?!<br />
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With our two crazy gringa friends ~ they sure had a good time together that day in the kitchen! I loved watching them interact ... <br />
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But back to my story. Why did Nicole save her fruit for home? Because this may well have been her kitchen:<br />
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It was 10 year-old Melanie's. And I can tell you there may be days when a tangerine from Compassion is all there is to eat in that place where Momma struggles to work for a few coins each day and five mouths to feed.<br />
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But there's MORE! MORE FOOD! MORE that Compassion does for these kids!<br />
<br />
So I've told you how they feed these sweet children and teach them about Jesus and provide counselors and psychologists and even developmental screenings and medicines. But also? Also? They help kids learn skills that will help them get jobs that will help them <em>break the cycle of poverty.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
This is a <strong>cooking class</strong> at Compassion:<br />
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And that food tasted sooooooooo amazingly good!<br />
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I had to fight them off like wolves I tell you...<br />
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Oooooh yeah. You gotta know I loved <strong>that</strong> heavenly morsel to post <em>that</em> awful picture! Aaaack.<br />
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Classes. To teach the children job skills. Classes in cooking, sewing, other trades. A future. <strong>A future that breaks the cycle of poverty.</strong><br />
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That's what Compassion is doing in Peru. That's what Compassion is doing around the world. That's what God is doing through Compassion around the world.<br />
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And you wanna know how much it costs? Seven icee mochas a month. Yeah ~ I went there. Pretty convicting. $38 per month.<br />
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<a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/sponsorship.htm">Here's</a> where you need to go now.<br />
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Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-64298870817580726512012-08-20T22:23:00.001-07:002012-08-20T22:23:23.378-07:00"How Was Your Trip?!"She smiles at me from across the hall, 28 shiny faced kindergardners in tow. She asks across the table over doughnuts at church and on the phone and in a text. <br />
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The question is posed by people I love the most in my life. Their genuine desire to hear my answer ~ unquestionable, to be sure; but how do I answer it ~ enough ~ when our expected interaction in the halls of school or the doughnut line at church or in that text message is a moment and I just need a lifetime? How do I answer so that they will see my words not as my mouth forms them but as my heart cries out?<br />
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I don't have an adequate answer to their question. I don't know how to answer any of them the way my brain says I should. My words seem cold and flat against a warm fiery ember that burns and has always burned but snatches at the wind and catches a spark and feeds a flame. I went to Peru to find a little girl named Keila. I went to Peru and found Nicole and Natalia and JammiLuz and Diana and God ~ and then ~ Me. And I can't wait to go back. Right now - Today.<br />
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My prayer is that over time, words will come fast and God will fill in the blanks, but for today my words are broken and inadequate. And I am not going back ~ Yet. I am here in my comfortable home on this fluffy friese and the two inch pad and just wondering at the wonder of it all. How God can be so big there where their needs are so great and yet here we make Him seem so small. Yet He is Him. The great I Am. He doesn't need us to make Him big or small or anything at all. He just is. Why is that? Why is it that we cling to Him as the plane crashes yet we turn away when the captain turns off the saftey belt sign?<br />
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Crazy. It's a crazy upside down world where I have a heart full of love for my four babies here at home yet I have to fly to Peru to feel my heart swell big enough to fit them all inside. That's what God did to me on this trip. He tipped my world upside down and inflated my heart so that I could see His children are my children.<br />
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I am startled by the magnitude of His love for us, startled by the love He gave me for my four children here and all the beautiful little ones we met along our paths in Peru. I am irrationally jarred by His grace and love. I am so grateful for such a time as this, a time to reflect and narrate and think upon His blessings.<br />
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And I answer her. I answer her with a tear in the corner of this eye and a smile that radiates through both: I am changed.<br />
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"How was your trip?" she asks.<br />
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"He changed me," I answer. "And I can never be the same."Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-66761737034150327312012-08-19T20:48:00.000-07:002012-08-19T20:48:01.801-07:00Summer's End: PeruMy prayer this evening is to write for Him. So often I have evaluated and reavaluated blogging and motivations and time and inspiration. Tonight, I lay on my fluffy friese carpet with the two inch pad and I desparately want to say something meaningful on my blog, and the best I can bring to word is: Him.<br />
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I sat with four young girls today and explained away the gifts their sponsored child sent them through me. I arrived home just yesterday ~ literally 24 hours ago at this writing. With delays in Lima and further delays in Miami, the coming home was challenge, yet full of time that I seem to lack here in the every day.<br />
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"It's like The Little Drummer Boy," I explained as we gazed at a styrofoam plate shaped and colored to look like a swan, at crepe paper twisted and sculpted into heart shapes, and at foam shapes pasted meticulously into fish and hippo faces. The little girl who lives on the other side of the world from my daughter and her friends sent what she had to give ~ no gift fit for a king or for what I may have deemed right for these American princesses, yet she gave her best for them, and they ogled and giggled and loved every item, passing each piece around and deliberately choosing which one to keep. They still get it better than I do.<br />
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I am reminded time and again that God smiles at me when I simply do my best for Him. Sometimes that's writing about my messes. Sometimes that's writing about the babies He gave me. And sometimes, it's writing about Peru and life and change.<br />
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For Keila in Peru and four young girls here at home, it simply meant a backpack of school supplies and a styrofoam plate. Isn't that beautiful? <br />
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I took 2,500 photos last week. I promise I won't share them all. But my goal before my trip to Peru was to write and photograph all that I saw and did while there. To care for people and to make a connection. I wanted to learn what Compassion is doing in Peru.<br />
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My voice has been quiet on this blog. As time sped away and I spent summer moments with my children, my words were absent. This week, my prayer is that I can suggest to you through my words the powerful impact that is occuring in Peru through the Christ-centered Compassion organization. I pray to get my voice back to write ~ with time and with inspiration. I pray that you will be inspired to seek God's will in your life. Maybe sometimes it is true to "Never mind searching for who you are. Search for the person you aspire to be." ~Robert Brault~ <br />
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Or better: Ask who He wants you to be. And be ready to listen!Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-39307250293594620312012-06-12T21:37:00.002-07:002012-06-12T21:46:45.993-07:00meiners heartsYesterday it rained. I sent the boys out to cover the sand box in case more rain came. Meiners flew back in the house and deposited a plant in my hand. <br />
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"Here," he said casually before racing back out the screen door.<br />
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I looked down at my hand. There lay a stem with three pristinely shaped heart leaves hanging breezily from its end. I sucked a breath in and let myself smile slightly. <br />
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<br />Meiners.<br />
<br />My all American rascally athletic rugrat who throws his arm tightly around my neck and draws me in for a morning kiss but chases out the van door with a thoughtless wave backwards in the school yard. So intent to find beauty in his surroundings and to share it with his mom, yet careful not to stick around long enough to be thought sweet or nostalgic.<br />
<br />Meiners Heart.<br />
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<br />Love.Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160213108916038720.post-64567026098603604702012-06-11T22:39:00.000-07:002012-06-11T22:45:51.533-07:00SOMEone turned FIVE this weekend!A little bit of cuteness celebrated a milestone birthday Sunday! I remember my fifth birthday! I wonder if she will remember hers...<br />
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<br />The night before her birthday, I waited and waited for Sashi to finally fall asleep so I could dec out her room in the style the kids have become accustomed! Two of the sibs were still awake and helped blow up and distribute the balloons! I sure appreciated the help!<br />
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<br />I left the doorway unfettered since the last time I paper~taped one shut Mr. T busted through it instead of the intended recipient (Meiners!)! I also didn't want little Sashi to get scared or have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and have no way out of her room! Taping the doorway shut may be an older kid fun-omena! Taping up the bed with a distinct escape route was top notch for this five year-old!<br />
<br />Sash insisted we not do Bread Co in spite of our long-standing Sunday morning ritual. She wanted pancakes. What Momma could say no to that face? Pancakes for a princess indeed! And they always get their number, so I of course had to oblige!<br />
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<br />Saturday Dad and the boys built this stellar playhouse ~ so that was the primary entertainment while Sashi waited for <strike>her cake</strike> I mean party! <br />
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<br />I've wanted one of these for the kids for a decade! How cool would it be to be little again and have this house in the backyard for hours upon hours of imaginative play?! Three of them played all afternoon in there, taking orders and answering phone calls! Loved it!<br />
<br />Between playing and cleaning up for the family party, the kids decorated Sashi's birthday cake. She wanted a cake with her face on it. My friend Christi made a stellar RAINBOW cake last week for her daughter, so when I suggested <a href="http://sweetapolita.com/2011/04/rainbow-doodle-birthday-cake/">this one</a> to Sash, she was all smiles, and a birthday cake concept was born!<br />
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Oh man ~ I may complain about the details along the way (and I use the term 'concept cake' loosely! Rosie sure makes it look easy on her blog!), but I loved the anticipation of eating this fun cake! I have a few lessons to learn about fondant, but when you're five, do you really care if your cake has extra cracks and pleats? Wouldn't Fancy Nancy just call that "unique enhancements?" I think absolutely. :)<br />
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<br />Everyone had a chance to put something meaningful on the cake! From her love of flowers and all things watering them, to her desired 'face picture' alongside siblings...to maybe even a few of those siblings' favorte things...Using the edible markers was a challenge, but we got the hang of it, and I really love how it turned out! Wrinkles in fondant and all!<br />
<br />Sunday was a busy and fun-filled day for our five year-old super star! Here are five of the top reasons why I truly think she <strong>is</strong> a super star!<br />
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1. She is very responsible. (It may not be fair to say <em>the most responsible sibling</em>, but it's true and life isn't fair!) When you tell Sashi to do something, you can turn around, and she'll have it done!<br />
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2. She is a hard worker! This goes with number one, but not only that, she said yesterday, "I love to work hard Dad" and that is Truth. She desires to vacuum like the big kids. I vote we let her!<br />
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3. She colors constantly and has a great eye for putting colors together in unexpected ways that turn out beautifully! She loves to color with me, too! (Except my color combinations are not as fun as hers!)<br />
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4. She has a sweet tooth that just won't end, but she'll eat any combo of fruit, vegetable, or other to get her hands on a piece of the sweet stuff! She's one of my best eaters! (As long as I don't let her snack all day!)<br />
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5. She is just the most adorable, squeezy, sweet, little cuddler and baby girl around and I love her to pieces!<br />
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Love you Sashi~girl! To the moon and beyond! Can't believe you're five! I'm so proud to continue to watch you grow and mature and develop while being your momma! God's got the greatest of plans for you! <br />
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Happy Birthday Baby Girl! And yes, you'll <em>always</em> be my baby!<br />Karin @ 6ByHisDesignhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18359744428745009730noreply@blogger.com