tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56177037092092728342024-02-07T05:09:06.008-05:00Amy's Just SayingAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-16237037196693594782024-01-11T11:43:00.004-05:002024-01-11T13:39:38.028-05:00The GOAT<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">The Greatest-Of-All-Time coach in college football
history retired yesterday. That’s right…I said it. I don’t think ANYONE can
dispute this fact, and I haven’t seen anyone even try since the announcement.
The lovefest for his unparalleled success and impact on the game is in full
force (as it should be) and will probably continue on for the days/weeks/months
(YEARS!) ahead, which this man has earned.</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToLtblAWkR157AljFQXhmJyUFcKGO1SU9_zes8gon3elsWszlwzpHZ0aJE7_I7SDGV2DDdPB7GedAK-vzrTm3ILiUgLu7GWTzFsbRpX3j87YFsYvw11NDJzbJYvcmLj1crx8f33c4lqkIEbRMiBi9vwbvX7YhIXDAmLNFNimpvlMXHO_tJdk858Uchv50/s900/Lloyd.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="900" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToLtblAWkR157AljFQXhmJyUFcKGO1SU9_zes8gon3elsWszlwzpHZ0aJE7_I7SDGV2DDdPB7GedAK-vzrTm3ILiUgLu7GWTzFsbRpX3j87YFsYvw11NDJzbJYvcmLj1crx8f33c4lqkIEbRMiBi9vwbvX7YhIXDAmLNFNimpvlMXHO_tJdk858Uchv50/w200-h160/Lloyd.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It should come as no surprise to anyone that the rest of the
college football world took a giant, collective exhale when the news broke. The
gridiron just leveled out a bit. Something new is on the horizon. ANYTHING is
possible now where – let’s face it – it seemed an impossible dragon to slay for
17 years. Sure. The rest of us had our moments when we caught the dragon
slipping or off his guard. Nobody is perfect. But those moments were very few
and far between. In the immortal words of Lloyd Christmas, the feeling today
is, “SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THERE’S A CHANCE!” <br /><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">Now to my brothers & sisters in <span style="color: #cc0000;">crimson </span>- </p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">To be shocked and horrified that every other fanbase – especially that of your “little brother” as you like to call us – is celebrating, is just silly.
You know who else is celebrating? HIM! The GOAT. The dragon…and every person
who loves him and is looking forward to the days to come when <b><u>he</u></b> can finally exhale
and relax and be the husband, dad, grandpa, friend, (commentator?) that all of
them (dare I say…<i>us</i>?) want him to be and that he wants for himself. Nobody died, for crying out loud! He chose this. He deserves it. He’s earned it.</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">Look. I know you know this. We all know it. And I know you're sad
that this truly historical era has come to an end, but I implore you to have a
little perspective. You had a coach for 17 years who built the kind of unprecedented
legacy that is impossible to compare to anything else…because it’s never
happened before! Why waste your time being outraged by the inevitable little celebrations
that are popping off like fireworks in the distance. Why not just sit up there
on your precarious throne and be smug and “above it all”…while you still can?</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5g9IT2hop9hpRlXMeqY6ACd6ZYzuCNxlzaVD6YuzqPD5_yGeTFp_Mj2X6RlBa4nO-w6n8tV75BqRYvCjtaIL2QjaToo0B_IXuOTfPxaihedoHN8ycoME1u6UKIiSdM6s7NHPv3QumrVNVJ9tL1GTbstbOO5u8l_kp6hpUaMiFTgiidFHWPGxGjRKYbHJ/s1262/Toomers.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="1147" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5g9IT2hop9hpRlXMeqY6ACd6ZYzuCNxlzaVD6YuzqPD5_yGeTFp_Mj2X6RlBa4nO-w6n8tV75BqRYvCjtaIL2QjaToo0B_IXuOTfPxaihedoHN8ycoME1u6UKIiSdM6s7NHPv3QumrVNVJ9tL1GTbstbOO5u8l_kp6hpUaMiFTgiidFHWPGxGjRKYbHJ/s320/Toomers.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>Now…if I may be so bold…I will speak just for my “<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">f</span><span style="color: #de6800;">a</span><span style="color: #0b5394;">m</span><span style="color: #e06900;">i</span><span style="color: #0b5394;">l</span><span style="color: #e36a00;">y</span></b>”
(I know you hate that we call ourselves that). Congratulations to the GOAT, his team, his
school, and his “nation” for everything that you’ve all accomplished together. Good
for you. But we are certainly not going to apologize for admittedly walking
around with a little twinkle in our eye and spring in our step today that wasn’t
there two days ago. You’re like Superman who just stepped out of that glassy, icicle
phonebooth looking thing and became mortal like the rest of us. Welcome back. I
know you think we should be embarrassed that a few college kids went out and
threw a couple of rolls of toilet paper in some trees last night. We’re
not. You probably won’t believe this, but (speaking strictly for myself now) this is not even the best thing that has happened in my world this week…but it
sure does put a smile on my face. <br /><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">I look forward to the future when at least one playoff
spot in the ever-changing game that we all love is no longer a foregone conclusion.
I look forward to the Saturdays when you can once again know the thrill of victory
as an underdog instead of the relief that comes with just meeting expectations…astronomical
as they may have been. And believe it or not…I look forward to the day when I
can fully appreciate the man…the myth…the legend without rubbing the bruises he
left behind. Maybe then I can say (or type) his name without
the taste of gravel in my mouth…but I’m not quite there yet.</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Enjoy your retirement, GOAT. Your presence on the sideline will be missed by many...but not by me.</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span>WAR.</span></b> </span><span style="color: #e36a00;"><b><span>DAMN.</span></b> </span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>EAGLE.</b></span><o:p></o:p></p>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-91130932841910345172020-06-19T17:00:00.006-04:002024-01-11T11:55:07.109-05:00Their Lives Matter<div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;">Hello, my friends ~</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">If you're anything like me, lately you've experienced strong feelings of anger, sadness, frustration, and just plain helplessness. I’ve spent the last few weeks listening, learning, and searching for something – ANYTHING – I could possibly do to offer some measure of support to those who are particularly vulnerable and heartbroken.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWeRnrxYhK8UQZxgMCSaXuNFzTkKncALlBI0-mFzXHyu4KYAFcdQaBtT_d_gGZr7Md1faTut1Z_Xoi4GdbRhvnmPsKU4_smaChYAD8fakAP8C8Bfn3tZTeZ82P-TQcRVGKyHOTSobGhByS/s719/MTCxmas.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="558" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWeRnrxYhK8UQZxgMCSaXuNFzTkKncALlBI0-mFzXHyu4KYAFcdQaBtT_d_gGZr7Md1faTut1Z_Xoi4GdbRhvnmPsKU4_smaChYAD8fakAP8C8Bfn3tZTeZ82P-TQcRVGKyHOTSobGhByS/s320/MTCxmas.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">Many of you already know that I have a deep passion for serving my community through prison fellowship. At Christmastime in 2018, I told you about the women at Atlanta’s Metro Transitional Center who were in desperate need of basic personal care items. I asked for your help in gathering those items so that we could present them to the women as Christmas gifts, and WOW did you ever come through!! For about a week or so, I came home from work each day to mounds of Amazon boxes at my door. It was so overwhelming (in the best possible way) that I felt the need to put a sign on my door so that the Amazon delivery personnel would know the part they were playing in serving the MTC women. That whole experience was such a joy, and there’s no way it would have or could have happened without YOU.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="color: #1d2129;">Once again, I am coming to you today to ask for your help in serving the women of Metro Transitional Center. Living at MTC is a privilege that these women have earned. They work so hard in preparing for their release by participating in personal and professional development as well as a work release program. COVID-19 hit this community of women especially hard. Not only did they have an outbreak of the virus within the facility, but the work release program was suspended to help minimize the spread. Like many others across the US and the world, the only source of income for these women was abruptly cut off through no fault of their own, and the progress they were making toward their release came to a screeching halt.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9vvnw6wQtsRKvUSlQzHXOePfswx4w3_dNU-fKzkInBJm1Dw5fTu1kb15QZbLf1GB9yR9IsehqMfMT-aN3OxiIYVSXIiWvG2zBGAQ_RAXXLZN3BELS01BamRTw4q_LqQ2zib7j3YDNYaH/s722/ChapSandra.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="722" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9vvnw6wQtsRKvUSlQzHXOePfswx4w3_dNU-fKzkInBJm1Dw5fTu1kb15QZbLf1GB9yR9IsehqMfMT-aN3OxiIYVSXIiWvG2zBGAQ_RAXXLZN3BELS01BamRTw4q_LqQ2zib7j3YDNYaH/s320/ChapSandra.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">In addition to the devastating impact of COVID-19, a disproportionate number of the residents at MTC are women of color. They are hurting and scared by what is happening in the communities that they will soon rejoin. Chaplain Sandra Anderson is doing everything she can to serve their personal, emotional, and spiritual needs with the very limited resources available to her. Along with a list of very modest and basic items that she is collecting, Chaplain Anderson expressed a desire to provide journals to each of the women. She wants to give them an outlet to express their thoughts, feelings, fears, and plans for how they will make their own communities a better place when they are allowed to return to them.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">This is where you come in!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">I have set up an Amazon wish list to collect journals for the women of MTC. If you feel led to do so, just click on the link below to purchase a basic black notebook (or several!) which can then be shipped directly to me. As I receive your donations, I will personally deliver them to Metro Transitional Center myself.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">If you have been asking yourself, “What can I do?...How can I help?” – here is your answer. You can do THIS. You can show these women that…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/S200CD1LOC55?ref_=wl_share" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="517" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwtlm1-d9OsThZFhq6xhha83LkHhmDKqtYR4UzKAHnnX5XU53UqTtfF84ezWlikKFv8oU1iG4gAgyQvQPCY49joUPcF75zLzYV9hwsHFm3ttN2vPQoeS7zPC2MYoUwO2oMNljXUcBs0Xo/s320/journal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">They have not been forgotten.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">They are loved.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">THEIR. LIVES. MATTER.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">*********************</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></p></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-74513853525152635952019-12-12T12:30:00.003-05:002022-03-30T12:50:13.976-04:00Take Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfjbJB6_Z75zpD8VY7tXTN599pPlwCXkUp52eU10o_PJrVPKnwPS8U09akP-vKQ8dx2rAKw9poMVxeFaHtjf0F3DD0vf8psqvxQB6941_avEaWh9fot5S5XUYAaUC5u_1JgWC5as-27d6/s1600/devotional+cover2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="510" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfjbJB6_Z75zpD8VY7tXTN599pPlwCXkUp52eU10o_PJrVPKnwPS8U09akP-vKQ8dx2rAKw9poMVxeFaHtjf0F3DD0vf8psqvxQB6941_avEaWh9fot5S5XUYAaUC5u_1JgWC5as-27d6/s320/devotional+cover2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Back in the summer, I got an email from the Associate Pastor at my home church, <a href="https://www.prumc.org/" target="_blank"><b>Peachtree Road United Methodist</b></a>, asking if I would be willing to write an entry for this year's Advent Devotional. </div>
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Willing?! Are you kidding?</div>
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No one has ever asked me to write something for a specific purpose. I was thrilled and humbled by this request and immediately knew the story I wanted to share. </div>
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My entry was slotted for today, so here it is. I hope it might warm your heart a bit...</div>
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*************</div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><span><a name='more'></a></span>December 12, 2019</b></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>John 16:33</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">“I have told you these things, so
that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. <b>But take
heart!</b> I have overcome the world.</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Finding things in the dark is pretty difficult, and it
was dark that day – <b><i>really</i></b> dark. It wasn’t dark outside, mind you, but I felt
nothing but darkness all around me. My heart was so heavy because of a very
difficult situation that I’d gotten myself into. There was no one else to
blame. It was all on me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I can’t even remember where I was going that day when I
called up an Uber ride, but I remember getting in the car and being greeted by
a very cheerful woman who told me her name was Deborah. I could tell that
Deborah was going to be a talker which, under normal circumstances, I would
have loved, but on this day, all I could think was, “UGH.” I was right about
Deb. She chatted with me about the weather (it was a beautiful day outside),
and she asked how I was doing to which I responded, “Eh. Pretty good. How are
you?” She went on to tell me about her daughter who would be graduating soon
and how proud she was of her. She told me about how the extra income from
driving for Uber would help with the expenses of having a kid in college.
“Every little bit helps!” she said. As she continued telling me about her life,
I was thankful that I didn’t have to do any of the talking. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As we reached my destination, Deborah turned and looked
at me in the backseat and said, “Well, it was great meeting you, Amy. Can I
give you this?” She handed me a postcard with a lot of handwriting on the back.
I took it from her, and she told me, “I like to give these out sometimes or
just leave them around town in random places. Maybe you could leave this one
somewhere for someone else later.” I said, “ok” with confusion in my voice,
thanked her for the ride, and closed the door as I stepped out into the
sunshine to read what she had written.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is what the postcard said…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>“Hello. I know we’ve never met before but I am writing
this for you. Yes you. You are an incredible person. I hope your day has been
okay so far and you have been able to find a few silly things in this wacky
world to make you laugh and smile. You do have a beautiful smile. You are loved
and cared for by many people, and you deserve love and care. You make the world
a better place just being you. You don’t need to do anything extraordinary. Who
you are is enough. You are enough. You are unique. You are irreplaceable. You
are needed. You have purpose. Thank you for all the wonderful things you do. I
hope the rest of your day is amazing. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FqvbIR_D4NHaoopx2a7Af4R_VNm_qUlzULGElgIJVGVfOZX1MnHEITfrJH4nI7-3-lV0oIPh3CiUI89VXSgw4MXfxoAaMQikBiJCms5JjLX_d_yJvxHlFWaHGZ91Ob8DIfuGa3G4Xa_I/s1600/postcard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1242" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FqvbIR_D4NHaoopx2a7Af4R_VNm_qUlzULGElgIJVGVfOZX1MnHEITfrJH4nI7-3-lV0oIPh3CiUI89VXSgw4MXfxoAaMQikBiJCms5JjLX_d_yJvxHlFWaHGZ91Ob8DIfuGa3G4Xa_I/s320/postcard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>YOU ARE OKAY NO MATTER WHAT”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />And just like that, a little light crept in bringing with it the warmth of love and peace that I desperately needed. I saw Jesus in Deborah that day, and I didn’t even know it until after I’d gotten out of her car. <br /><br /><b> Take heart, my friends!</b> Look around today - and I mean <b><i>really</i></b> look - at the people that cross your path. One of them might be Jesus, and he or she may have just the kind of peace that only Jesus knows that you need.<div>
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<b style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">M</span><span style="color: #274e13;">E</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">R</span><span style="color: #274e13;">R</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">Y</span> <span style="color: #274e13;">C</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">H</span><span style="color: #274e13;">R</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">I</span><span style="color: #274e13;">S</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">T</span><span style="color: #274e13;">M</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">A</span><span style="color: #274e13;">S</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">!</span></b></h2>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-22290095334737446982018-12-03T13:14:00.002-05:002022-03-30T12:54:08.272-04:00Angels<br />
The <b>SECOND</b> thing I do each day is take Beasley out to take care of his morning business. I really do mean this is the 2nd thing I do. I literally just throw on some shoes and a jacket, and out we go – in all my Medusa quaffed glory. Apologies to my neighbors for the atrocities that I greet you with each day. Anyway, when Beasley and I go to his potty area the sunrise is behind us. Today when we turned around for the short walk back home THIS is what greeted us:<br />
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But let me back up a little...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiuKzhFFENWQdv8Xd8NItRxTy8hI0P0nNWbwMo9hUPp3T_T-D9SG0Ntbe1-af8mC2EWTUm_oDsZvRrrbaXXnZvzAEMcb2J4gUKp89M8AIkznBweZ6PEmIu3GJjWm10AqV92eqOisojZhQ/s1600/Image_1+2018-12-03_23-40-28+%25282%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="211" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiuKzhFFENWQdv8Xd8NItRxTy8hI0P0nNWbwMo9hUPp3T_T-D9SG0Ntbe1-af8mC2EWTUm_oDsZvRrrbaXXnZvzAEMcb2J4gUKp89M8AIkznBweZ6PEmIu3GJjWm10AqV92eqOisojZhQ/s200/Image_1+2018-12-03_23-40-28+%25282%2529.jpeg" width="132" /></a>For Lent earlier this year, I worked my way through a daily devotional called “<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Pauses-Lent-40-Words-Days/dp/0835815048/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1543902095&sr=8-2&keywords=pauses+for+advent" target="_blank"><b>Pauses for Lent</b></a>” by <b><a href="https://twitter.com/trevor040451" target="_blank">Trevor Hudson</a></b>. I really loved its simplicity in that each devotion included a different “word of the day” and an easy “daily practice” that helped me stay present throughout the season. I even created iPhone wallpaper for each word, and I changed it out everyday so to be reminded of it every time I looked at my phone. I liked it so much that I am now following it up with Trevor’s “<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Pauses-Advent-Wonder-Trevor-Hudson/dp/0835817105/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1543902095&sr=8-1&keywords=pauses+for+advent" target="_blank"><b>Pauses for Advent</b></a>.” Reading this devotion is the <b>FIRST</b> thing I do each day.<br />
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So today’s word of the day was…ANGEL.<br />
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The “daily practice” for today was just to stay alert and present to God’s surprises throughout the day and watch for angels in every encounter…and WOW did he deliver!<br />
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Enter that stunning sunrise. Of course, the picture doesn’t do it justice. It was one of those perfect ones where you could actually see the clearly defined beams of light breaking through the clouds. I stood there and giggled to myself thinking, “show off.” Since it started with that sort of unexpected gift from my Main Man upstairs, I was actually excited for the rest of my Monday. I just knew it was going to be good. And it was.</div>
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When I got to the office, I showed the sunrise picture to my co-worker and tried to explain what it really looked like. Her response was, “You know when I see things like that, I think that’s God just doing his thing.” Yes, girl. YES. ALLL the yeses! The rest of the work day was pretty standard. There were a couple fun surprises here and there, but then… <br />
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THIS was the sunset that guided me home at the end of the day… <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtE51Dvd6hqGyD6ALPSAw0Woewd5BbyW0xJLOTlkAx-0eyZLTEHr7laIDaUsDT0_zUy3-kJ4MalwN1RBD0BLO2Qryyxf-cenR0QfdSePIGzDdi31n39Ch1ISl0yA-tlFSUl4uFWOz9GWY/s1600/Image_1+2018-12-03_19-48-36.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="1600" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtE51Dvd6hqGyD6ALPSAw0Woewd5BbyW0xJLOTlkAx-0eyZLTEHr7laIDaUsDT0_zUy3-kJ4MalwN1RBD0BLO2Qryyxf-cenR0QfdSePIGzDdi31n39Ch1ISl0yA-tlFSUl4uFWOz9GWY/s640/Image_1+2018-12-03_19-48-36.jpeg" width="640" /></a><br />
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COME ON! Are you kidding me, God?!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDSEsjDvNClFxxc9nQHzHFoQpbjRcu3-_wmjFCIm_raRx4NQk9ZjhaisoSgHRxVlu9lb0ihXvXRBrlNuhKyip4VJfkU2NXA2Q_Ea6tV34Y4-Ena32_NnunIQLT_F29rNHApYf-znPAEi2/s1600/doritos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="489" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDSEsjDvNClFxxc9nQHzHFoQpbjRcu3-_wmjFCIm_raRx4NQk9ZjhaisoSgHRxVlu9lb0ihXvXRBrlNuhKyip4VJfkU2NXA2Q_Ea6tV34Y4-Ena32_NnunIQLT_F29rNHApYf-znPAEi2/s200/doritos.jpg" width="200" /></a>As I approached the traffic light that marks the halfway point of my commute, I noticed a man with a sign who needed some help. I knew I didn’t have any cash (because I never have any cash. Shout out to all of the forgiving parking attendants out there!). Instead I grabbed the apple that I had in my purse – intended to be a nice healthy snack at some point in the day, but instead I opted for Cool Ranch Doritos (stop judging me! GAH!). I am going to choose to believe that if I had eaten the apple, then I couldn’t have had this next encounter, so those were divine Doritos, you guys. Anyway, I rolled down my window, and he walked over to my car. Before he could say anything, I told him, “I don’t have any cash on me, but I hope this will help a little,” and I gave him the apple. He looked at the apple and then looked back up at me and said one word, “ANGEL.” I was speechless. In my silence, he spoke up again saying, “Money is not the most important thing, you know. Thank you.” I asked him his name (it’s <b>Matthew</b>…because OF COURSE it is) and he asked me mine (it’s Amy). I told him I’d pray for him. He said he’d pray for me and blew me a kiss as I drove away. I’m not sure who the Angel was in the situation, but I don’t think it really matters.<br />
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The last thing I did before turning my car toward home was stop by CVS to pick up a few things. As I was about to check out, I noticed that there was something going on in front of me at the register. A woman – white, probably late forties to early fifties – was profusely thanking a young man – African American, probably in his 20s. There were two CVS employees witnessing whatever was going on and their expressions were positively giddy. I had to ask what I had missed. Turns out, the woman couldn’t find her wallet, so she didn’t have a way to pay for the 3 gallons of water she intended to buy. Apparently this young man had been in line behind her and quickly offered to pay for her items himself. He did, and the woman immediately paid him back through Venmo on her phone (I mean, this is 2018 after all). As he left the store, the woman continued to pour out her gratitude, and just as he put his hand on the door to leave, she said to him, “You are”…wait for it…”an ANGEL.”<br />
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When I got home, I immediately sat down at the computer to tell you about this wonder-filled day. <br />
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In Sunday's sermon at <b><a href="https://www.prumc.org/" target="_blank">Peachtree Road Methodist</a></b>, Senior Minister Bill Britt talked about the wonder and hope of Christmas, and that if we pay attention, we can see miracles - and yes, ANGELS - if we train our hearts to recognize them. His closing charge to us was to think about the angels who are already in our lives. These are the people that give you living breathing proof of God’s constant presence and amazing grace through their words, actions, and love for us. In addition to the ones I met today, here are just a few of my angels: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvyIAN7IDpOJEzfcScIGsERT0jS-PipOzhi7vDJP6ftgodaTcXdyDHXPFufFT_RvoHBNyFMMa1o8r_JggANaaIGK6E0p6filWYVjyyLa9ZwMgb_DWgcf9_ughUdzKGcO5kT3EPGtnm11T/s1600/Image_1+2018-12-03_22-41-18.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="574" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvyIAN7IDpOJEzfcScIGsERT0jS-PipOzhi7vDJP6ftgodaTcXdyDHXPFufFT_RvoHBNyFMMa1o8r_JggANaaIGK6E0p6filWYVjyyLa9ZwMgb_DWgcf9_ughUdzKGcO5kT3EPGtnm11T/s200/Image_1+2018-12-03_22-41-18.jpeg" width="185" /></a></div>
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My dear friend <b><a href="http://sarahcrossmansullivan.com/" target="_blank">Sarah</a></b> who will send me text messages like this <span style="color: orange; font-size: x-large;"><b>→</b></span><br />
on any random day at any random time…except I don’t believe it’s random at all. She serves as the hands and feet of Jesus in everything she does. I hope you have someone like her in your life.</div>
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There is my friend, <b>Amanda</b> who is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. Her greatest joy is helping the people that she loves, and I am so fortunate to be one of them. <br />
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Then there’s <b>Ed</b>. He is 'Christian Soldier' personified. He has a heart on fire for service and has been teaching Sunday School to 3rd graders for I don’t even know how many years and has probably been an adult Bible study facilitator for almost as long. I am so grateful to have learned from him and been a witness to his leadership. I look forward to all of the things we have yet to learn together. <br />
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My college roommate and lifelong friend, <b><a href="https://courtneydefeo.com/about-courtney/" target="_blank">Courtney</a></b>, is on a mission to fill up every family with <b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/This-House-We-Will-Giggle/dp/1601426062/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1543943898&sr=8-1&keywords=in+this+house+we+will+giggle" target="_blank">giggles</a></b> and <b><a href="https://courtneydefeo.com/lightemup/" target="_blank">light up</a></b> every community with loving kindness. She never gives up and is always looking for new ways to offer a blessing to someone else. <br />
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And my yoga teacher, <b><a href="https://www.jennykontosyoga.com/aboutme/" target="_blank">Jenny</a></b>. She is a warrior. She has been dealing with the kind of heartache that no one should have to experience. I never know what to say, because it's one of those things for which there are just no words. Yet in every one of her classes, she pours love into us through her silliness, encouragement, and gratitude. She is a bright shining light.<br />
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There are also angels like <b><a href="https://www.prumc.org/bill-britt/" target="_blank">Bill Britt</a></b> and <b><a href="http://northpoint.org/" target="_blank">Andy Stanley</a></b> and <b><a href="https://www.louiegiglio.com/" target="_blank">Louie Giglio</a></b> and <b><a href="https://www.churchofthehighlands.com/about/pastor" target="_blank">Chris Hodges</a> </b>and <b><a href="https://www.msrachelhollis.com/about/" target="_blank">Rachel Hollis</a></b> and <b><a href="https://lysaterkeurst.com/lysas_story/" target="_blank">Lysa Terkehurst</a> </b>and<b> <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/about.htm" target="_blank">Jen Hatmaker</a>.</b> They have that way of digging deep into your heart – into the broken places, the hurting places – and holding space for you there while saying or writing the things you desperately need to hear. <br />
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There are countless others in my life who bless me in every way imaginable and some unimaginable. I couldn’t possibly name them all. I don’t even know all of their names. <br />
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<span style="color: orange;">☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</span><span style="color: orange;">☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</span></div>
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<i><b>Who are the angels in your life?</b></i></div>
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<i><b>How does God reveal himself to you through them?</b></i></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</span><span style="color: orange;">☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</span></div>
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It’s Christmas time – a season of hustle and bustle, family and friends, happiness and, for many, sorrow. God shows up in every circumstance and emotion every day of the year in the mundane, hum drum, routine of doing life. He’s always there. We just have to look for him and the angels he sends to deliver his indescribable love straight into our hearts. My prayer for you, dear friend, is that you will be alert to God's blessings all around you. My hope is that your Christmas season is filled with wonder, expectation, and mindfulness. A season of surprises. A season of miracles. <br />
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After all, the very first Christmas was the greatest miracle of all. Even that holy event began with a deeply personal and quiet message from God to a poor young girl in her ordinary life delivered by...who else? <br />
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An ANGEL.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">MERRY CHRISTMAS!</span></b></div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-36694387263008606972018-09-10T20:00:00.005-04:002022-03-30T13:03:47.153-04:00September 10th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Monday, September 10, 2001, a family had dinner together for the last time. A dad put his children to bed and kissed them goodnight for the last time. After a long day of meetings, a tired business woman looked forward to the morning flight that would take her home...but that flight wouldn’t reach its destination. A little boy went to bed in PJs with fire trucks all over them. They were his favorite, because his daddy told him stories about how he gets to go to work and ride those trucks everyday. His dad was his hero, and the next morning his dad would be the very real hero to countless others, but he wouldn’t be home for dinner that night or any night after that.<br />
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Another woman lay awake in her bed worrying about her 8am job interview the next morning. She finally fell asleep with only the possibility of a couple of hours of rest. Her exhausted body slept longer than she intended, and she was frantic about how late she would be for such an important meeting. It saved her life.<br />
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Life is so fleeting. So precious. Imagine if any one of those people and the almost 3000 others had known that they only had a few hours left on this earth. What would they have done differently? What would you have done if that was you? Because it could’ve been you. It could’ve been any of us.<br />
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We are every person who went to bed on September 10, 2001, thinking we have an infinite number of days in front of us. We have things that are undone, burned bridges that haven’t been rebuilt but can and should be. We’re going to bed without saying ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m sorry’ to someone who desperately needs to hear it. We are worrying about things that we can’t control. We’re putting off that crazy dream, because the fear of failing at it is overwhelming. We’ll get to it someday...or will we?<br />
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The one thing that differentiates us from all of those people who were just doing life on Monday, September 10, 2001, is that we are here doing life on Monday, September 10, 2018.<br /><br />
In their memory, let’s spend September 11, 2018, honoring them by saying, ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m sorry’. Let’s hug and laugh and cry and take a longer lunch and eat ice cream, because we can. Let’s be filled with gratitude for the countless blessings in our lives. Let’s do the thing that scares us, because NOW is the time.<br />
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I, for one, am going to make sure that you, my friends, know how loved you are by me. I love doing life with you even if it’s mostly through social media. You have impacted my life in small and huge ways. I pray that you go to bed tonight with full hearts. I hope you wake up tomorrow - Tuesday, September 11, 2018 - with a renewed spirit to say all the words and do the all things, because it could’ve been you in 2001...but it wasn’t.<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-16527173644994517312018-05-29T11:36:00.002-04:002022-03-30T12:56:34.424-04:00Orange Starburst<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Poor orange Starburst. Undesired. Unloved. Unwanted. REJECTED.
Just like the unathletic kid in PE, they are the last ones left in the bowl.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Who hasn't felt like the orange Starburst on occasion? I know I have.<br />
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I’ve spent most of my life desperately trying NOT to be the orange
Starburst. I worked hard at trying to fit in. I wanted so much to get picked. I
remember this conversation with one of my friends in elementary school:<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Who’s your #1 best friend? (<i>inner monologue: say me. Say ME.
PLEASE SAY ME!</i>).<br />
<b>Her: </b>Sabrina.<br />
<b>Me: </b>But Sabrina moved away. She doesn’t even live here anymore.<br />
<b>Her: </b>She’s still my best friend.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Ok, but who is your #1 best friend who lives in Columbiana?
(<i>inner monologue: MEEEEEEE!</i>)<br />
<b>Her: </b>I don’t know. You, I guess.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Oh my gosh! You’re my #1 best friend in Columbiana too!! (<i>inner monologue: Victory is mine!</i>)</div>
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<span style="color: black;">That worked for me. I was at least somewhere in the line-up. This philosophy
carried over into my 4<sup>th</sup> grade love life as well. Yeah. I had a "boyfriend". We were "going together." Where did we go, you might ask? Well, we went to the lunchroom and we went to the library and we went to the car rider line together. So I guess you could say it was pretty serious...except for one little thing - actually, make that three. My boyfriend had
three other girlfriends (all named Kim). We were like sister wives or maybe the
80’s version of prepubescent contestants on the Bachelor. It was fine with us. Would
I accept this dandelion? Yes. Yes, I would – as long as I could
avoid being the only one left standing on the playground without one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">As I got older, that desire to belong and it’s ugly sister – the fear
of rejection – never went away. It just got more complicated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I became painfully aware that I can be straight up TOO MUCH for a
lot people – too loud, too excitable, too talkative, too emotional. I hated my
too much-ness, and if it had a color, it would be bright orange. Impossible to
ignore - sticks out like a sore thumb - subtle as an air horn - <b><span style="color: orange;">ORANGE</span></b>. I desperately
tried to hide it. I wanted to push it down inside as far as I could. Sometimes it actually worked, but inevitably,
every shade of orange inside me would work it’s way to the surface. The more I
tried to disguise myself, the stronger the fear monster grew, and it was dressed evermore
extravagantly in anxiety, self-consciousness, doubt, and unworthiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">There’s nothing wrong with wanting to belong. God created us to be
in community. We are His personal expression of love, and we were made to crave
and express that infinitely huge love in our relationships with each other. But,
alas, we are humans, and we can get into trouble when we let that fear monster
creep in. Fear will tell you - <i>You’re not good enough. You don’t deserve to be
loved. Why would anyone want to hang out with you? </i>Don’t you listen to it. That
monster is the enemy, and the enemy is a liar liar pants on fire. It will lie to you until you believe those
lies to be the truth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;">The real truth is this: The orange Starburst is someone’s
favorite. There are people who will reach into the bowl specifically for the
orange Starburst and not because it's the only option left. And you know what's great about those people? They get me. In all of my orange glory, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, they pick me. They love me <i>because</i> of my glowing orange hue - NOT in spite of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;">God created us very much on purpose in every shade of every color in the rainbow...yes, even orange. We are all tied for the #1 position on His list of BFFs.
Every. Single. One of us. His love for us is not conditional on our color or
flavor or anything else. It just<i> is</i>. It doesn’t even matter if you believe in Him or not. We
have no choice in the matter. The choice we do have to make is whether or not we will receive that love and, in turn, live by it. God’s greatest gift to us is His
impossible-to-comprehend, all-encompassing love. If we accept it, then our gift
back to Him is how we reflect that love to each other.</span></div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-22627801684434444482018-04-02T00:00:00.001-04:002022-03-30T12:14:03.388-04:00I'm Naked!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6VfKtgoHjpJCkqtdmaE13e1BzAX7nepkG2kYa5dpawKBzQc0m-Ugv9DPKLDiZW2EO11Urp9B4JPw9MEVo2ncjOQ_rD75CRnnUtPTHxB7HQl04LVjOuIvAAuEZ1tVQl6aU1VgRfdReGW-/s1600/Common+Nightmares.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="328" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6VfKtgoHjpJCkqtdmaE13e1BzAX7nepkG2kYa5dpawKBzQc0m-Ugv9DPKLDiZW2EO11Urp9B4JPw9MEVo2ncjOQ_rD75CRnnUtPTHxB7HQl04LVjOuIvAAuEZ1tVQl6aU1VgRfdReGW-/s400/Common+Nightmares.jpg" width="248" /></a>A quick Google search for the most common <b>nightmares</b> reveals that many of us have nightmared (not a word, but "dreamed" seems too pleasant to use here) about being naked or "nekkid" as we say in my native tongue. You know the deal - you're on a stage, in a classroom, or down at (the) Walmart, and then the realization hits you...you ain't wearing a stitch of clothes.<br />
<div>
<br />
This situation, as it should, ignites an inner monologue of critical analysis:<br />
<ul>
<li>Everyone is staring at me! - OR - No one is even looking at me. Which is worse? </li>
<li>Did I come here in my birthday suit? </li>
<li>Did I just strip down spontaneously in aisle 7? Why? Why did I do this?</li>
<li>Why is Sponge Bob here? Maybe he will give me his pants. Why does he even wear pants? He's a SPONGE, for crying out loud.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Dreams are a weird bit of business, aren't they? Including naked situations, I have a few recurring classics from the "<a href="https://www.dreams.co.uk/sleep-matters-club/common-nightmares-and-what-they-mean/" target="_blank">Top 10</a>" list of most common nightmares:<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm back in high school or college, and one of two things is happening - I'm late for a final exam for a class that I never attended OR I'm wandering around in the hallways, because I can't find the rooms for any of my classes.</li>
<li>My teeth are multiplying or growing larger to the point where they are breaking off and falling out. A derivative of this one, I think, is getting chewing gum stuck in my teeth. I try to pull it out and some of my teeth come out with it. The gum is a never-ending, possibly growing pink blob of ick. It is surely the preferred gum in hell and is complimentary with your Comcast subscription. </li>
</ul>
<div>
Gross. If you are still reading this - I'm sorry and thank you. </div>
<br />
So where am I going with all of this?<br />
<br />
I'm no expert in dream analysis, but I think it is safe to say that naked dreams - and most nightmares in general - can be traced back to some form of fear at the root. Fear of being exposed, vulnerable, rejected, unlovable, alone. This fear monster has kept me from doing a lot of things in my life - including and especially writing. I have always felt like I could write my thoughts/feelings much better than I could physically speak the words, so what's the problem? Anytime I've received encouragement to write more, I get a surge of inspiration followed quickly by, "but why would anyone care about what I have to say?"<br />
<br />
Until now, I have let defeating self-talk and insecurity win in the battle of "to write or not to write" among many other personal struggles. Here's the thing though - Courage is NOT the opposite of fear. Being brave/courageous is having hope and faith in *spite* of fear, not in absence of it. In other words, It's not brave if you're not scared. In the words of <a href="http://www.anniefdowns.com/" target="_blank">Annie Downs</a>, "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Lets-All-Be-Brave-Everything/dp/031033795X" target="_blank">Let's all be brave</a>." So here I am - in the bravest pants (square or otherwise) that I could muster. Reviving "<i><span style="color: orange;">Amy's Just Saying</span></i>" is me taking a small step in what I hope is the right direction.<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-52445301028442106422016-11-11T09:50:00.001-05:002022-03-30T13:09:55.455-04:00Be the Bridge<br />Dear, my people -<br /><br />
I no more believe that you - my family and friends - are deplorable, racist, sexist, immigrant-hating, gay-bashing, gun-slinging rednecks than I believe that you - my family and friends - are nasty, abominable, God-hating, terrorist-enabling, baby-killing, freeloaders.<br /><br />Can we PLEASE stop painting each other with these GINORMOUS strokes??<br /><br />I (incurable optimist that I may be) believe that every single one of us on all sides of this circus, love this country and hopefully expressed that love through our votes. Maybe we can ALL just agree that we want what's best for America, even if we disagree on what (NOT who) exactly that is.<br /><br />Let's stop assuming the worst about each other and try to understand different points of view. I am so so very thankful for every single person that can read this post, and the diverse perspectives that you teach me about all the time (YAY for social media!). In this age of social media, we have an unprecedented opportunity to share our thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and experiences with each other. We can use this vehicle to separate ourselves even further or we can use it to LEARN...learn about the things that we weren't exposed to growing up and/or learn about what other people are experiencing in communities outside of our own. What a gift!<br /><br />I'm not going to unfriend/unfollow/un-like anyone. You all have a lot to teach me, and that is way too valuable in my limited view of my immediate surroundings. You are my people, and I love you!<br /><br />"<i>In a world so torn apart by rivalry, anger, and hatred, we have the privileged vocation to be living signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds.</i>"<br />
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- Henri J. M. Nouwen in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bread-Journey-Daybook-Wisdom-Faith/dp/0060663596" target="_blank"><i>Bread for the Journey</i></a></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-56742121103068181222014-12-08T17:44:00.005-05:002022-03-30T12:54:49.714-04:00Compassion<br />
I had an experience in church yesterday that rocked me to my core, and I want to tell you about it.<br />
A little background first...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1jT-RTn2jZblfETbbxcqtahJ0JV-nob3BC5GQkRgYktXYg7IwF3FTxZEINyp9QC3e6tbTD_nmgivypD_UtIHx21t8AUR7MK7Sc_T_rLqll8f3v_STSS6fkRcJqEOTrLaBHOXhi_WSbAV/s1600/Worship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1jT-RTn2jZblfETbbxcqtahJ0JV-nob3BC5GQkRgYktXYg7IwF3FTxZEINyp9QC3e6tbTD_nmgivypD_UtIHx21t8AUR7MK7Sc_T_rLqll8f3v_STSS6fkRcJqEOTrLaBHOXhi_WSbAV/s1600/Worship.jpg" width="320" /></a>I LOVE my church for lots of reasons. It is very traditional which reminds me of the little church that I grew up in in Columbiana. I love singing hymns that are a hundred years old led by a big choir. I love reciting the Lord's Prayer and the Apostle's Creed. Over the last two years, I've become more involved in the church, beginning with <a href="http://www.cokesbury.com/forms/ProductDetail.aspx?pid=447208" target="_blank">Disciple I Bible Study</a> last year and continuing with <a href="http://www.covenantbiblestudy.com/" target="_blank">Covenant Bible Study</a> currently. Through both of these experiences, I've met people that have supported and nurtured my faith and have helped me in ways I can't even number to grow in my personal relationship with Christ.<br />
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A little bit about my church...It is HUGE and is in the heart of the Buckhead neighborhood of Atlanta. If you're not familiar with the area, it is very much an upper-middle to upper class part of town, so the congregation is full of beautiful families and beautiful people dressed in beautiful clothes. Our sanctuary is equally beautiful as is the music from our choir and the message that our pastor delivers every Sunday. All of this was consistently true yesterday, but someone stood out to me in a way that I don't think I will ever forget.<br />
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Just as the service began, a gentleman came in and sat on a bench very near me under one of the church's several stained glass windows that line the walls of the sanctuary. Now, most people sit in the pews that face the front of the church. The benches along the wall are usually occupied by ushers, parents with fussy babies who might need a quick exit, late-comers, and/or overflow on Easter morning. That being said, for whatever reason, I am so thankful that he chose this bench, because it was the closest one to me. Something seemed so fitting about the fact that the window over this particular bench depicts Jesus with His arms open wide sharing His Word with all who would listen from a boat on the Sea of Galilee <a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/nlt/luke/passage.aspx?q=luke+5:1-11" target="_blank">(Luke 5:1-11)</a>. <br />
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I noticed the gentleman immediately. He was maybe in his 50s (I'm terrible at guessing people's ages), and dressed in, what looked to be, his "Sunday best". He was wearing faded blue pants, tattered and worn bright blue tennis shoes, a gray button-down shirt, a red, white, and blue tie, and a black overcoat. He carried with him one of those recycling bags that they give away at Publix - it was full and the handles were tied together in a tight knot. I don't know if he was homeless, but it was obvious that he didn't have much to call his own...maybe just what was in that Publix bag. I didn't know, and I tried hard not to make assumptions about him.<br />
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He participated in all parts of the service though he never used the printed bulletin for recitations or a hymnal. Typically when the Gospel lesson is read, the standard response from the congregation is, "Thanks be to God," but that was not the case for this gentleman. Maybe it was because I was acutely aware of his presence, but when he responded yesterday, I could hear his voice clearer than anyone else's as he said, "<i>Thank you, dear God</i>." He wasn't loud, but there was something about the way he said it. It was like he was <i>really</i> thanking God, and it was very unlike the response from the rest of us with our monotone words that roll off of our tongues seemingly on auto-pilot. His voice had real emotion in it. He was really thankful.<br />
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The service continued into the sermon titled, <i><b>Shaken by the Present</b></i>. This was the second Sunday in <a href="http://www.umc.org/topics/topic-advent-and-christmas" target="_blank">Advent</a> and therefore the second sermon in a series rooted in <i><b>A Christmas Carol</b></i> by Charles Dickens. The message centered around Mr. Scrooge's feelings of rejection and regret and how those feelings clouded his ability to see the human need around him. We are all God's children after all - none of us more valuable than the next but all of us precious beyond measure in His sight. Once we open our eyes to the needs of our brothers and sisters around us, our hearts soften with compassion, and joy is released. That's what happened to Mr. Scrooge, and that was exactly what was happening to me in that very moment.<br />
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After the sermon, it was time for the ushers to collect the offering. This is one of my favorite parts of the service, because it is always accompanied by a beautiful anthem from our choir. As we prepared our offerings, I noticed the gentleman to my right working earnestly to untie the knotted handles of his bag. Once he got them released, he reached in and pulled out two coin purses. He opened the first one and it was full of little pieces of paper. He sifted through those, closed it, and set it aside. He opened the second one and began pulling coins out...as many as he could. Most of them were pennies, but there was a little silver mixed in. He laid his offering on the bench beside him, carefully counted it out, gathered it up in his hand, and waited to offer what he had.<br />
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I was having a hard time keeping it together. In fact, I wasn't keeping it together at all. I knew what he was doing when he started pulling out the coin purses, and my tears started to flow uncontrollably. I'm talking SOBBING MESS, people. A million different thoughts and emotions were running through me and then, of course, that still, small voice whispering, "open your eyes."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVTRCYVJ-YsVMwItqjBIOZ7xNhyphenhyphenIHYDExAGKPJ1TTpffp8haiiAxtFELv5pUxqVk5LZ624Rw585nEqVGmxA6vDZjIgGsxor2sm5_u_5Nvu5nrb_ejdqw0qgZFWo6IRsZyL4Zt4tL9ur-D/s1600/widows-offering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVTRCYVJ-YsVMwItqjBIOZ7xNhyphenhyphenIHYDExAGKPJ1TTpffp8haiiAxtFELv5pUxqVk5LZ624Rw585nEqVGmxA6vDZjIgGsxor2sm5_u_5Nvu5nrb_ejdqw0qgZFWo6IRsZyL4Zt4tL9ur-D/s1600/widows-offering.jpg" width="320" /></a>When the usher put the offering plate in front of the gentleman he proudly placed his gift in it. In that moment, he gave me a gift...three gifts, actually - the gift of awareness; the gift of perspective; and the gift of thanks.<br />
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As we stood to sing the closing hymn, I kept my eyes straight down in my hymnal still trying to pull myself together. I took a few deep breaths and thought about what to do next. I wanted to meet this man. I wanted to know his name. I wanted to ask him to come back next week and sit with me. When I finally lifted my head up, I looked over to my right, and he was gone.<br />
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In the benediction, our pastor issued a challenge to the congregation. He said to look around. Find someone in need and offer them compassion. I was immediately filled with regret that I didn't take the opportunity to talk to the man before he disappeared. I was so disappointed in myself - I could've and SHOULD'VE done more - but then I prayed. I prayed that God would bring him back next week and give me another chance to shake the man's hand that had made such an impression on me and had taught me an invaluable lesson without even knowing my name.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><u>Mark 12:41-44 (NIV)</u><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">41 </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Jesus sat down opposite the place
where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money
into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. </span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">42</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">But a poor widow came and put in two very small
copper coins, worth only a few cents.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">43 </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Calling his disciples to him,
Jesus said, <span style="color: red;">“Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the
treasury than all the others.</span> </span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">44</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><span style="color: red;">They all gave out of their
wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”</span></span><br />
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<b style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">MERRY CHRISTMAS!</b></div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-4702363851948491222013-03-28T11:03:00.003-04:002022-03-30T12:57:38.428-04:00Above All ElseHere’s the thing.<br />
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I am a Christian, and I consider myself to be a person of deep faith. I come from a VERY conservative background, and I still live by the values and morals that were instilled in me by my amazing parents and family. I know who my Savior is, and I pray to Him every single day. I seek His guidance and counsel to lead me along the right path. God…well…HE knows I am a hopelessly flawed sinner, but by the power of His amazing grace, I know He still loves me. Powerful stuff. </div>
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Given all of the above, you might make assumptions about where I stand on marriage equality…and you would probably be wrong.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinY5nxW8yPAr2Ky-W5PzjFqPTj8rvyy-2ExExwCY3rvG-s4GzmKaHbFUf6Rwz9RLWb0X9ChCdyEffzgxl8HJKVSJyHs8ITlJqjP0-UoCP-j7u7x0x3eoSg26Wvk2Yz7Q5CinugEB64znVL/s1600/equality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinY5nxW8yPAr2Ky-W5PzjFqPTj8rvyy-2ExExwCY3rvG-s4GzmKaHbFUf6Rwz9RLWb0X9ChCdyEffzgxl8HJKVSJyHs8ITlJqjP0-UoCP-j7u7x0x3eoSg26Wvk2Yz7Q5CinugEB64znVL/s200/equality.jpg" usa="true" width="200" /></a>The struggles that our homosexual brothers and sisters face were put on my heart even before I realized I knew any homosexual people. I don’t know why. My only explanation is that God put it there. Even as a teenager in Columbiana, Alabama, I found myself being drawn to support gay rights and constantly struggling with the fact that this seemed contradictory to my faith-based background.</div>
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How could this be?<br />
Where does this feeling come from?<br />
I’m not gay!<br />
I don’t even know any gay people!<em> (Of course, I did, but I just didn’t know it yet.)</em><br />
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In college, these feelings only grew stronger, as I made several out and proud homosexual friends. In grad school, I did a project in my Multicultural Counseling class in which I had to choose a population of which I was not a member, and experience as much of that culture as I could. Some of my classmates chose to immerse themselves in cultures of racial or geographical difference. Still others spent a week in a wheelchair or blindfolded. You get the idea. I (and a few others in the class) chose to focus our assignment on homosexual life. With the help of a friend and classmate, I explored places and read things and went to meetings that I never would have experienced otherwise. It was eye-opening, and it only deepened my resolve to support the LGBTQ community.<br />
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Still the internal struggle continued. I prayed and prayed and prayed on it. I still do. How/why do I feel so differently about these issues than so many of my Christian brothers and sisters including members of my own family? As Christians, we are commanded to put our faith in our Almighty Father, even when we don’t understand His mysterious ways. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rEEqDwOrEFbANKR-EDRx4bKnAr4lTKY1-OeG8VmurPtuxuO7TfzfozjGCyTlLY9vrheqsloAZp9UVAVwz_rLwtQFmXU_SETsaPrQOWNXZHscplrPMMeJIJw3u8aOf4aNhpUR4hTCwRdb/s1600/platypus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rEEqDwOrEFbANKR-EDRx4bKnAr4lTKY1-OeG8VmurPtuxuO7TfzfozjGCyTlLY9vrheqsloAZp9UVAVwz_rLwtQFmXU_SETsaPrQOWNXZHscplrPMMeJIJw3u8aOf4aNhpUR4hTCwRdb/s200/platypus.jpg" usa="true" width="200" /></a>Why do bad things happen to good people? <span style="color: blue;">No idea.</span></div>
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What difference does prayer make if God already knows our struggles and the help that we need? <span style="color: blue;">I don’t know, but I do it every day and I know it works.</span></div>
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Why does the duck-billed platypus look so goofy?! <span style="color: blue;">I mean, really! Look at this thing!</span></div>
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Clearly, I’m no theologian. I can’t really answer any of those questions with certainty. I just don’t know. But isn’t that the beauty of how He works in us? We don’t have to have the answers. We don’t have to know why. We just have to have faith, and above all else LOVE ONE ANOTHER. <br />
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It was when I had that epiphany that I realized, I don’t have to know why God put this issue in my heart…but I do have to accept it and go where He leads me. There’s no other explanation for why I feel so strongly about marriage equality and gay rights in general. I have no answer to the question I’ve gotten several times, “How can you call yourself a follower of Christ and openly support such things as gay marriage?” I know all of the scripture that those who oppose homosexuality quote to prove their point, and I know the counter arguments. I read my Bible every day, and there are parts of it I know I will never understand, but I also know that I don’t have to understand. <br />
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As hard as I’ve tried, I can’t come up with an answer for how or why loving anyone could ever be wrong. That was His greatest commandment to us, after all. I don’t believe that being gay is a choice any more than I chose to be left handed. God made ALL of us, and God doesn’t make mistakes! We are who we are, and we are ALL precious in His sight. There are so many people whom I dearly love who fall on absolute polar opposite sides of this issue. I’m not writing any of this to convince anyone to see things my way. I just want to make it clear where I stand, and I hope you’ll continue to love me anyway.<br />
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This is who I am. A God fearing, Jesus following, left-handed, supporter of marriage equality and gay rights. And as confusing and contradictory as it may seem, I passionately believe, fully and whole-heartedly, that God led me to this position, and who am I to question Him?<br />
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Today is <a href="http://christianity.about.com/od/easter/qt/maundythursday.htm" target="_blank">Maundy Thursday</a> in the holiest week of the year for the Christian faith. This is the day that Jesus gave his disciples his last commandment -<strong><em> “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13: 34-35)</em></strong> <br />
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I can think of no better way to celebrate the sacrifice and grace of my savior, than to celebrate any and all forms of love. That’s how He and everyone else will know that<strong><em> I am His</em></strong>. <br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-70488386670627169422011-09-16T12:22:00.002-04:002022-03-30T12:58:10.279-04:00Not So SurprisingI love feel-gooder stories that boost my faith in humanity, so here's one for you on this fine Friday. <br />
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I take you to last Saturday. A lovely day on The Plains, and a great day for a win against <a href="http://espn.go.com/blog/sec/post/_/id/27635/final-auburn-41-mississippi-state-34">Starkpatch</a>. My Uncle Mark came to Auburn to enjoy the game (as usual) and was also bringing with him 4 tickets for <em>this </em>Saturday's game against/at Clemson. He had the tickets in tow, because my brother was buying two of them from him, and they were to make the exchange at halftime. <br />
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When Mark arrived in Auburn, he checked to make sure he had the tickets (he did), and started his walk from the car to the stadium. When he got to the stadium - horror. He discovered he no longer had the Clemson tickets on his person. Figuring they were lost for good, he recounted the story to us at halftime at our standard family meet-up on the ramp outside of one of the scholarship sections where <a href="http://www.amysjustsaying.com/2009/05/happy-birthday-dad.html">BG (my dad)</a> sits. We were all saddened to hear this tale and felt bad for Mark and baby bro who were planning on using the tickets the following (this) weekend. But wait....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Mark </td></tr>
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Behold! The happy ending...<br />
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I don't have the full details of the story, but I'll give you the general jist. As it turns out, a faithful, wonderful, and TYPICAL Auburn Man found Uncle Mark's tickets and contacted the Auburn Ticket Office with hopes of finding the rightful owner and returning them to him/her. As luck would have it, Mark did indeed buy his tickets through Auburn, so they were able to track them back to him. This wonderful Auburn Man gave Uncle Mark a call and said he would overnight the tickets to him, so he would have them in time for Saturday. Mark, eternally grateful, offered/insisted to reimburse the gentleman for the shipping expense, but he wouldn't hear of it. "Just do a kind deed for someone else in the future," the Auburn Man said. And that was that. All was right with the world (well, that might be overstating, but that's what I do).<br />
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So let this little story roll around in your soul a little bit today. It's so simple and something you would hope any decent person would do, but, when you hear it, it's a little surprising in the best possible way. Surprising, that is, if you don't really know Auburn people. Was I suprised? Delighted. Grateful. Inspired. Yes. But, surprised? Not really. <br />
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That's just the Auburn Family, and it is real.<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-54562289882739622432011-02-18T11:55:00.013-05:002022-03-30T12:59:23.805-04:00Strong as Oak<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well this has been quite a week. I started off feeling all lovey dovey on Valentine's Day, and I'm finishing up with some heartache. The internet is overrun with articles, blog posts, status updates, and tweets about the trees at </span><a href="http://ocm.auburn.edu/news/oaks.html"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Auburn's Toomer's Corner</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. I don't know why anyone would want to read another person's lament, but here it is anyway.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-26dbHr3mC5BLngSZm4m7-m2rQ0h4oBNrCUXosdprOfPFqTPrp45QSNobhU7KbD2vF-okPq_eubHPdtTI7u5I4m-c8wXOcAjbaG_9OX58rA3gz9u8rhBpbuUleZzbifqrjPLaDvx9-Aq/s1600/toomertreejpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-26dbHr3mC5BLngSZm4m7-m2rQ0h4oBNrCUXosdprOfPFqTPrp45QSNobhU7KbD2vF-okPq_eubHPdtTI7u5I4m-c8wXOcAjbaG_9OX58rA3gz9u8rhBpbuUleZzbifqrjPLaDvx9-Aq/s320/toomertreejpg.jpg" width="244" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am heartbroken. I just can't believe something like this has happened. Like so many before me have said, it's one thing to play pranks in the world of college sports. These things are to be expected, and, really, enjoyed. Even the teams/schools/fans on which the prank is played can usually eventually find humor in it. What happened to our beloved Toomer's Corner Oaks was not a prank and will never be funny...at least not to Auburn people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've been amazed by the outpouring of support from fans of our rival schools and particularly <a href="http://www.al.com/sports/index.ssf/2011/02/alabama_athletic_director_mal.html">Alabama</a>. Rightfully so, sane and reasonable Bama fans are just as outraged as we are and are embarrassed to be associated with a complete loser like <a href="http://www.al.com/sports/index.ssf/2011/02/arrest_made_in_toomers_corner.html">Harvey Updike</a>. It warms my broken heart to hear and read all the <a href="http://twitter.com/tidefortoomers">love</a> being sent our way. I've also loved the support we've gotten from <em>some</em> of the unbiased media. Let's face it. There's a lot of opportunity here for poking fun at the ol' Cow College and our affection for a couple of trees, but, by and large, it seems like most people "get it". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And of course, there are a few who don't. There's more than one Harvey Updike in the world, and every fan base has them. I've made the mistake of reading through some of the comments at the bottom of articles and have seen the nastiness being slung around. I'm not really surprised. That being said, I'm happy to report that I've only seen one Alabama fan that I know personally who seems to be having fun with all of this. <em>(Sidebar: Defriending someone on Facebook can be quite liberating)</em>. I really have nothing more to say to her or the others except - You don't get it, and I'm fine with that. You should be embarrassed, but the fact that you're not says way more about you than I could ever write here. </span><br />
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<em>And to Harvey-</em><br />
<em>You will have to live with what you did for the rest of your life. You are Public Enemy #1 as far as the Auburn Family is concerned. I feel sorry for your family and anyone who has ever called you their friend. You are a disgrace to the school and team that you claim to love and they think so too. I hope you realize that you failed. You may have killed our trees, but that's it and that's all. Your actions have made the Auburn Spirit stronger and more united than we were before all of this. Thanks for that, Harvey. <a href="http://www.al.com/sports/index.ssf/2011/02/toomers_corner_alabama_reaction.html">As confirmed by officials at the University of Alabama</a>, you never set foot in a classroom there, which is no shock to any of us. I hope you get the help you need and someday grasp the hurt you've caused. I have a feeling it won't ever make a difference to you. We know you hate Auburn. I think I actually prefer it that way. Just know that ALABAMA is ashamed of you. ALABAMA wants nothing to do with you. And ALABAMA hopes you get what you deserve. That's gotta sting a little.</em><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So much of what I've read this week has truly inspired me and reminded me how strong the <a href="http://www.al.com/sports/index.ssf/2011/02/toomers_corner_trees_auburn_fa.html">Auburn Spirit</a> is. We ARE a family. That will never change. Other Auburn men and women have expressed their feelings and emotions way more eloquently than I ever could. Below are some of my favorite things I've come across as this story has unfolded this week:</span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "tahoma" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span class="textexposedhide2"><strong><span style="font-size: small;">And The Whos Kept On Singing</span></strong></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "tahoma" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span class="textexposedhide2"><span style="font-size: small;">This whole thing with the Toomer's trees reminds me of the story of "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas". Perhaps "Al" aka Harvey Almorn Updyke, from Dadeville ought to read that book. The Grinch could no more steal Christmas by stealing the Whos' presents than "Al" can steal the Auburn Spirit by poisoning our Toomer's trees. Do you remember what happened when the Whos woke up and their presents were gone? I am sure they were upset at first but it just made them realize even more that the Christmas spirit isn't contained in boxes or bows-just as the Auburn Spirit isn't contained in those trees, so they still celebrated, and kept on singing. Spirit comes from and exists within, and no one, not even "Al" the Grinch, can take that away. In fact, hurtful and hateful acts only make the Auburn Spirit stronger because we realize how invaluable and intangible it really is.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "tahoma" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span class="textexposedhide2"><span style="font-size: small;">"And the toilet paper, the trunk, the branches and leaves, I'll bring it all down with poisoned disease. Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, all the fans down in Auburn will all cry BOO-HOO! That's a noise," grinned "Al" from Dadeville, "That I simply must hear!" So he paused. And the Grinch called "Al" put a hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the Plains. It started in low. Then it started to grow... But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Auburn! "Al" popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every Tiger down in Auburn, the tall and the small, were still celebrating without any trees at all! He HADN'T stopped the Auburn Spirit from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the Grinch called "Al" stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so? It came without paper or shakers or trees, it came without all these things indeed. And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore. Then "Al" the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe Auburn's spirit" he thought, "means a bit more!" And what happened then...? Well...in Auburn they say that "Al" the Grinch's small heart hopefully grew three sizes that day, after of course, they locked him away!"</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "tahoma" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span class="textexposedhide2"><span style="font-size: small;">War Eagle (internal shakers stirring and toilet paper flowing)! </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "tahoma" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span class="textexposedhide2"><span style="font-size: small;">No Retaliation! </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">-- amyb </span><a href="http://bit.ly/igkGhn"><span style="font-size: small;">http://bit.ly/igkGhn</span></a><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><em>This was posted on an Auburn message board by "amyb". I'm not the Amy B that posted it (I wish I was!), but I'm proud to share a name and an Alma Mater with her.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><a href="http://lee-magazine.com/blogs/if-toomers-could-talk"><span style="font-size: small;">If Toomer's Could Talk</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">- posted by Lindsay Waits</span></div>
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<a href="http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2011/writers/andy_staples/02/17/toomers-corner/"><span style="font-size: small;">Toomer's Corner Poisoning should enrage all college football fans</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">- by Andy Staples - SI.com</span></div>
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<a href="http://sassysouth.livejournal.com/108336.html"><span style="font-size: small;">Toomer's Corner - More than Tradition</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">- posted by my friend, Sassy South, on her blog</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><strong>RUMOR SQUASHED:</strong></span><br />
<a href="http://www.thewareaglereader.com/2011/02/did-auburn-students-celebrate-bear-bryants-death-by-rolling-toomers-corner/"><span style="font-size: small;">Did Auburn Student's celebrate Bear Bryant's death by rolling Toomer's Corner?</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">- The War Eagle Reader</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"We will take every step we can to save the Toomer's oaks, which have been the home of countless celebrations and a symbol of the Auburn spirit for generations of Auburn students, fans, alumni and the community," said University President Jay Gogue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Gogue asked members of the Auburn Family to "continue to be 'All In' in upholding its reputation for class" and not allow anger to be expressed inappropriately or undeservedly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"It is understandable to feel outrage in reaction to a malicious act of vandalism," Gogue said. "However, we should live up to the example we set in becoming national champions and the beliefs expressed in our <a href="http://www.auburn.edu/student_info/student_affairs/students/aucreed.html">Auburn Creed</a>. Individuals act alone, not on behalf of anyone or any place, and all universities are vulnerable to and condemn such reprehensible acts."</span><br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-25179898902085463642010-10-25T20:33:00.004-04:002022-03-30T12:59:54.928-04:00One<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now that I’ve had a day to process this whole #1 business, I have a few thoughts on the matter (shocking). <br />
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As I watched the “BCS Countdown” show last night (still not sure why we need a 45-minute show for this) and saw the top ten tick away, I’ll admit – my heart was racing a bit. When that big<strong><span style="color: #38761d;"> O</span></strong> popped up in the #2 slot, I actually squealed. Yes, I squealed. People, I know this ranking doesn’t mean anything right now – Alabama, Ohio State, and Oklahoma have definitely proven that in recent weeks. It’s just different for us. The aforementioned teams have all had their time at the top, and all three of them have had national championships in this century. This week is different, because, as the Auburn family, we are in uncharted territory. We’ve never had “1” by our name in the ESPN ticker. As simply as I can state it, this is a first, and it feels good. <br />
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Bama fans, I know it sucks for you to see us on the top of that list (or any list, for that matter). <strong>BELIEVE ME. </strong>I know. But I have to tell you that no amount of negativity that you send in our direction will change how much fun we're having right now. It simply has nothing to do with you. We have a good team and a GREAT quarterback. What more can you say about it? We have beaten everyone in our path – some (if not most) in heart-pounding fashion. One way or another, we’ve come out on top every week…so far. </div>
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In a lot of ways, Auburn and Alabama fans are so similar, but there is one area where we couldn’t be more different. The Auburn family is, by and large, a group of realists – cautious optimists – even downright pessimists depending on the day. Being a generally positive and optimistic person, this outlook challenges my sensibilities, but I respect that my people tend to deal and live in reality – a very good thing when it comes to sports. We don’t make outlandish predictions before the season starts, and we don’t claim mythical national championships. That’s just not our style. And I like it. In the last 24 hours, I have heard/seen a lot of you remind us that we still have to play Alabama. Thanks for that. This will be the 64th consecutive year that our little battle has taken place, but I sure am glad you feel the need to keep that in the forefront…you know, in case anyone forgets. But let me tell you what is in the forefront of OUR minds right now – Ole Miss. Next week it will be Chattanooga. The next week it will be Georgia. We’ll get to you soon enough. </div>
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I have no idea what is going to happen in the coming weeks, but there is one thing of which I am completely sure – it won't make a bit of difference in how proud I am to be a part of the Auburn family. It isn’t a choice. I was born this way. It’s part of who I am. It doesn’t matter if we lose every game, I would still love it just as much and be just as proud to claim it as my alma mater. I would rather be an Auburn woman on our worst day than anything else on their best. </div>
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Auburn fans will enjoy this week, but we will take it for what it is – just <strong>one </strong>week. Just <strong>one </strong>ranking. The only <strong>one</strong> that really matters is the <strong>one</strong> in the end, and we are nowhere close to thinking about that yet. We’ll leave the fantasy and speculation to you, Bama. We’ve got work to do. See you in November.</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-89255919504696244012010-05-24T21:36:00.002-04:002022-03-30T13:00:31.060-04:00Luxury<div style="text-align: left;">
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I present to you the Rolls Royce of toilets:</div>
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At first glance, it might look like your average toilet, but it isn't. I came across this little gem in the Tokyo airport on my way home from China. Look a little closer. It has an armrest, but this is no ordinary armrest.<br />
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That's right, ladies and gentlemen. This thrown has a CONTROL PANEL!!</div>
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I will admit that, although fascinated, I was quite intimidated by this complex bit of advanced technology. Allow me to break down the elements:</div>
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I could not muster the courage to attempt the <strong>"spray"</strong> or <strong>"bidet"</strong> functions, but I am still curious as to what the difference between these might be. The graphics suggest a varying stream, but I cannot confirm. </div>
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That being said, I simply could not resist testing the <strong>"Flushing Sound"</strong>! Really?! How genius is that?! Obviously meant for cases of...shall we say...stage fright, this is an option that not only benefits the individual user, but let's face it - it's a win/win for everyone. I can tell you that it does indeed sound like flushing, AND you can adjust the <strong>volume</strong> as your particular situation requires. </div>
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Speaking of win/win - <strong>"Powerful deodorizer"</strong>?! The adjective "powerful" alone, was enough to keep me from pushing that button. Exactly how powerful are we talking? Seeing as how I was about to board a 14 hour flight, I didn't think it wise to risk possibly smelling like a pine tree or some such fragrance for the duration. But, really, if necessary, this is another feature that obviously serves the greater good. </div>
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In addition to all of these options, it appears you can even control the <strong>pressure</strong> and <strong>temperature</strong> of the "spray" and/or "bidet" water, and you can <strong>warm the seat</strong>! </div>
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Luxury, indeed.</div>
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How and why these toilets are not standard around the world - or at least in the good <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ol</span>' US of A - is a matter worthy of an international investigation, in my humble opinion. I think we can all learn a lesson from the Japanese here - they are not only interested in creating a delightful individual experience (spray, bidet, warmer, etc), but they have gone above and beyond to create a more pleasant environment (flushing sound, powerful deodorizer) for all patrons. The journey to world peace is a long one, my friends, but Japan is making their contribution one stall at a time.</div>
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<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Domo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">arigato</span>, Japan.</div>
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Bravo to you.</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-89504082962908118332010-03-24T13:27:00.024-04:002022-03-30T13:01:02.746-04:00All dogs go to heaven - especially THIS one.Death is a complicated thing to handle for those who are left behind. No doubt about it. I don't know anyone that hasn't had to deal with it in one way or another. For animal lovers, losing a pet can be, and usually is, like losing a child. That is what we are going through right now...<br />
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Dude lost his precious Maddy last week, and it has been absolutely devastating. Maddy was almost 16, and she and Dude have been together since she was only a few weeks old. He adopted her in the nick of time from an animal shelter in 1994, and, since then, they have been virtually inseparable. Man's best friend, indeed. Maddy has been by Dude's side through all of the peaks and valleys along his path, and was loved, I'm convinced, more than any dog in the history of the world.</div>
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Though I didn't quite spend a whole year with Maddy, she quickly secured a place in my heart forever. She accepted Beasley and me into her family with Dude and Foster without hesitation, and was always so sweet and loving to us. As the only two girls in the pack, we bonded right away. I took her for manicures and to get her hair did (grammatical error INTENDED), and we shared a lot of girl talk. She was always an independent woman and wanted to do things for herself even when her aging body started to fail her. She was particular too. This gal knew what she liked. She's been known to jam to Smashing Pumpkins on more than one occassion, and she considered her favorite "chefs" - Miss Wendy, Miss Krystal, Kenny (Rogers), and Ronald (you know the one) - to be among her close personal friends. In fact, I think she had at least one friend in every species walking the earth, and I'm sure she is missed by each and every one of them.</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452364744007123458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4__W7f7bfPsI49FR-1Ah-toNqUWR-tBvIdTKLZe8_4ARMtbh64Kg9TJzyJa_8STecHl_rMVY_z0Jgzh-kf9shjAfFA2QVwSG28tgZ4IGcmpGMQaPYWPeE3lKjF5h97x4wQzJyFebXauyN/s200/IMG_0382.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 137px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 200px;" />If you have room in your life for a pet, particularly a dog, they teach you so much about yourself and bless your life in ways beyond what seems possible. Certainly, it's not always sunshine and roses. In fact, sometimes it's CRAP! LITERALLY. But even in those more trying moments, they are teaching us patience, tolerance, restraint, and showing us just how much we can really handle. All they want is to be loved. That's it. It's that simple. If you can give them your love, they will give you a friendship so loyal and true and will work everyday to show how much they love you in return. As heartbroken as we are when they leave us, we were even more blessed just to have had them in the first place.</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452364111493153442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ONpgLjdYa_JXMtZK_nY-uIJqxvNT7g3azc6q6eEteH4UmeY3qs9QTBIznaABWg89WLn8LTGYayg-0d4kNvShfPDfoEa7f4BSjhQDcKVhVXpCrwybD615qZhq6IEgTsCyTCJgSK7ek00R/s200/DSCN0117_2.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 140px;" />Yes, death is a complicated thing...and so is love. Dude loved Maddy so incredibly much and did everything he possibly could to keep her with us as long as possible. He gave her a happy, healthy, safe, and long life that was full of love and the kind of companionship that is rare even in human relationships. Maddy had the heart of a lion and was one of the sweetest, sassiest, toughest, and bravest souls I've ever encountered. I am so thankful that Dude brought her into my life. I consider myself lucky to have known her even if for a short time and even luckier knowing I have a person in my life who is capable of loving her as much as he did and always will.</div>
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Maddy, we miss you so much every single day. I will keep the promises I made to you...the ones I whispered in your ear. Thank you for everything you taught us and for your loyalty, your friendship, and most of all your love. You will always be a part of what made us who we are together and as individuals. </div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-86374294999039734792009-05-28T17:45:00.011-04:002022-03-30T13:04:48.136-04:00Amazing Person #2One of my dearest friends gave me a slap on the wrist this week for being a bad blogger. She is so right. I have neglected the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blogosphere</span>, so I thought it apropos to dedicate this post to her! Now, she needs a nickname. Let's call her.......<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Shiksa</span>! That is a fitting name, and I think it will give her a much needed giggle.<br />
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So my girl, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Shiksa</span>. Where to begin?! We are kindred spirits. We met through her now husband, Dr. Bop (I'm on a roll!) and my ex, Mr. Microphone (somebody stop me!). Bop and Mic have been friends since childhood, and when introduced, I felt like I had known <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Shiksa</span> about that long too. We were instant <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">besties</span> (a word I learned from her). The beginning of our friendship was mostly long distance - me in Atlanta with her in Chicago THEN me in Chicago with her in New Jersey. But really it wasn't until she moved back to Chicago, (at last, putting us in the same city) that our friendship grew some roots...and just in the nick of time.<br />
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Chicago was an AMAZING life experience for me, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I learned more about myself in those 3 years than I ever had before. But as we all know, life lessons can bring some seemingly insurmountable challenges and heartache. THANK GOD FOR <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">SHIKSA</span>! She was my lifeline in so many ways - particularly in a time when the newness of my new city had worn off; I was severely homesick; Mr. Microphone had left town for an internship; and I was in a job that I hated. The perfect storm.<br />
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ENTER <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Shiksa</span> with a big ass umbrella.<br />
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She was there for me in every possible way, and to make it all that much sweeter, we had an unbelievable number of things in common from politics to particular <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">obsessive</span> tendencies. Many a hardy chuckle have been had over unintentional "coincidences" that have made us wonder if we had that twin-like psychic connection between us. More than once, we have both arrived at our designated meeting point at the exact same time without breaking our stride. That even happened when I last visited in December. One of our favorite things to do was to get take-out ribs (zesty) from Twin Anchors and go to my place to watch Grey's Anatomy.<br />
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<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Shiksa</span> was always at her best, though, when I was at my absolute worst. Eventually my relationship with Mr. Microphone came to it's inevitable end, and even with the obvious loyalty conflicts, she never left my side. Mr. Microphone is a compassionate guy, and he knew how close <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Shiksa</span> and I were (are). After our break-up he told her to take care of me. Now, that's kind of a normal thing to do with mutual friends in such a situation, but I've never met anyone who took that assignment more seriously than she did. In fact, I think Mr. Microphone eventually came to regret making that request of her, as she became my consummate protector even if it meant putting him in his place. There were days when I wasn't sure I could even get out of bed. No worries. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Shiksa</span> was there with a Dr. Pepper and a frosted cookie to save my day. Through anxiety attacks, car accidents, break-ups, and muggings via knife-point, she (and many times Dr. Bop too) came to my rescue.<br />
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Now we are back to where we started - me in Atlanta and her in Chicago. When my last days in Chicago were winding down, that was the good-bye that I was most dreading. It didn't matter that I'd see her again in two months at her wedding, or that I knew we would keep in touch. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Shiksa</span> had become one of those fixtures in my life such that, saying good-bye to her was like leaving a piece of me behind. Actually I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">ok</span> with that though, because I know that piece couldn't possibly be in better hands.<br />
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I love you so much, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Shiksa</span>, and I miss you everyday. I hope I have been, and can be, half as good a friend to you as you have been to me.</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-52667680316650940832009-05-01T11:56:00.010-04:002022-03-30T13:05:38.175-04:00HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BG</span> turns the big 6-2 today. Happy Birthday, Dad!<br />
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Anyone who meets my dad immediately falls in love with him. He is one special person. He grew up in the same town where he still lives today. He and my 2 uncles were raised on a farm by two of the most humble and warm-hearted people on the planet. Nothing is more important to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">BG</span> than family and God with Auburn football - well, Auburn in general - coming in as a close 3rd.<br />
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<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">BG</span> is the quintessential Southern Gentleman. He's a jolly, fun-loving guy who is so conservative he makes Rush Limbaugh look like a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">hippy</span>. He has been known to call me his 'liberal daughter' which, to anyone who knows me, would seem hilariously inaccurate. Compared to him though, it is absolutely true. In the little corner of the world where I grew up, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">BG</span> is one of the most respected and loved members of the community, and with good reason. Stranger or old friend, he loves nothing more than to make someone laugh. As long as you don't say 'Roll Tide', after 5-minutes of knowing you, he will consider you a friend. Not long after that, he will dazzle you with his steak-grilling skills and/or his precision on his high-powered complex lawn maintenance system. To call this piece of machinery a lawn mower, would be a gross understatement. It has a steering system that is so complicated, the average person would find themselves spinning in circles on the first attempt at operation. I am convinced it could reach speeds of at least 50 miles per hour though I've only seen him go up to about 30. Sheer genius at work, I tell you. But I digress...<br />
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My dad, has travelled the world and has stood in some of the most historic and amazing places in existence, yet his <em>favorite</em> place is simply anywhere his family happens to be - especially if that place happens to be Auburn, Alabama. From the womb, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">BG</span> has <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">instilled</span> a love of the orange and blue in me and my brothers that runs so deep there was never any question about where we would seek higher learning. My dad spent his life around boys. He has 2 brothers and 2 sons. My mother once told me how I (the only girl for a while) have always been such a mystery to him. True, there is a lot about me that I'm sure has been hard for him to understand, but one thing we could always connect with was Auburn. No matter what - silly little girl, angst-ridden teenager, college co-ed, young professional - we always had Auburn. For my 12<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">th</span> birthday my dad and I went to the Auburn/Georgia Tech game in Atlanta - a real treat for me as I had him all to myself while usually my football knowledge was overshadowed by my all-knowing brothers. I remember a lot about that day, but most of all I just remember how great it was to hang out with my dad. We saw a pretty spectacular game too.<br />
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Five years ago today, my dad dropped me off in Chicago and made the long drive back to Alabama. While I was excited and nervous about starting that new chapter in my life, I was heartbroken and terrified to know, for the first time, there would be that many miles between us. I'm sure leaving his baby girl in a big strange city wasn't a great way to spend his birthday either, but he knew it was something I needed to do. Two years ago, as I was unpacking my boxes in Atlanta once again, I sent him a birthday card and promised that I would never move that far from home again.<br />
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<span class="blsp-spelling-error">BG</span> has always been my hero. He has saved me figuratively and literally more times than I can count. I have never made a major decision without his input. His guidance is a lifeline for me. I don't say it nearly enough, but I love him more than he could possibly ever know. I've recently had some moments that have made me realize just how lucky I am to have such an incredible and loving dad. I know how much he loves me. I know he is proud of me. I know I can always count on him when (not if) I need rescuing. I just hope he knows that I feel the same way about him.<br />
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Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you so much.</div>
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<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-20748997958870191032009-04-12T20:46:00.031-04:002022-03-30T13:06:51.166-04:00Easter in Small Town Alabama looks like...THIS.<br />
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To frame this up properly, I have to tell you. One of the things I love most about me is that I come from a tiny - and I mean TINY - small town in Alabama. You can count the number of traffic lights on one hand. Everybody knows everybody. When I was a mischievous teenager, my parents knew about the trouble I had gotten into, before I got home. Time stands absolutely still in places like this. It is virtually the same place that I left when I went away to college. But anyway...<br />
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We are nothing if not an informal bunch. I'm not sure if this is an indigenous trait to small town living or just my family. Presentation is completely lost on this lot. I am so mad at myself for not taking a picture of our Easter Sunday lunch spread to share with all of you. It was a mish-mosh of Tupperware bowls, re-used butter tubs, plastic utensils, plastic cups, paper napkins, and paper plates. Martha Stewart would have had a heart attack. The philosophy is essentially that, "fancy presentation doesn't add one lick to the taste, so why bother?!" Now if it DOES improve the taste, then it is absolutely worth it! Case in point: My brother got up several times throughout Saturday night slaving over his <strong><a href="http://www.biggreenegg.com/"><span style="color: #cc6600;">Big Green Egg</span></a></strong> smoking a turkey to perfection. This all makes perfect sense to me and my people.<br />
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Now, once all the worshipin', fellowshipin', and eatin' is done, the Easter Eggs have been dyed, hidden, hunted, and found - what's left to do? Why, launch said Easter Eggs down the street with a giant slingshot, of course. DUH! <br />
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See, you have to be resourceful in a small town to keep yourself entertained. My brother's neighbors have the right idea. Who knew slinging hard-boiled eggs through the neighborhood could be so fun?! Well, we did, obviously. I'm sorry for all you yankees and big city folk who have never had the pleasure of experiencing this little-known Easter tradition. It's a great time to catch up with the neighbors while displaying some athletic prowess - two things that Southerners LOVE to do - and if it involves two big pick-up trucks - well, then, ALL THE BETTER!</div>
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Hope y'all had as much fun on Easter as I did!</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-3675265582411081012009-04-04T10:43:00.018-04:002022-03-30T13:07:27.961-04:00April 4, 2008<div align="left">
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This was a VERY exciting day in my world. Something I never thought possible became official. Five faces I never thought I would see in the same place again...were in the same place again. There were rumors. Lots of them. There were rumblings. There was reason to believe in the weeks prior to April 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>. But that day it became real. Very real.<br />
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Now those of you who are reading this and are not New Kids on the Block fans, I am sure you are rolling your eyes at me right now. That's quite alright. I've been watching people roll their eyes at me for 20 years now because of this. I know it is impossible for you to understand. I know it doesn't make any sense to you. I am not embarrassed. I am proud. This has been one of the best years of my life, and it's because of them.<br />
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One year ago, I was lying on my sofa watching the Today Show...and waiting. They teased us the whole morning about this exciting announcement that was to come. It was not a very well kept secret, mind you. The plaza was FLOODED - flooded with torrential rain and RABID BLOCKHEADS! Then the time came...<br />
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That red curtain dropped and there they were. Once again. I was 13 years old again. For anyone who isn't a fan, I KNOW this will seem <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ridiculous</span>, but I was overcome. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. All 5 of them. Together. Smiling and loving every minute of it. They talked about new music. They talked about a tour (THUD), and they talked about how great it was to be back with their friends...US INCLUDED. Just amazing.<br />
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I had no idea at the time, but that was the first day of one of the most AMAZING YEARS of my life. I have met some INCREDIBLE people who are now my friends for life. I have had some of my WILDEST DREAMS come true (pun intended, Blockheads, HA!)...twenty years in the making. These adventures have not been without some drama, mind you, but I wouldn't change a single solitary second of it.<br />
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<strong>Kristin and Brittany</strong> - So happy we met you in Florida! You gals need to come to Atlanta, so we can hang out again soon!!<br />
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<strong>ORIGINAL GUTTER GIRLS! Jenn, Whitney, Kristi, Sarah, Kerri, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Myka</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Sanya</span>, Kat, Katie, Logan</strong> - Thank you so much for adopting me! I feel like I've known all of you for years! What a special group!! It has been such an incredible pleasure getting to know you. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">LNS</span>!<br />
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<strong>(PICTURE TO BE ADDED THIS SUMMER!!! WOOOTTT!!!)</strong></div>
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<strong>Jenny and Stacey</strong> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">GREENVILLE</span> 4! I HEART YOU SO MUCH! We have made some GREAT memories together. You are my sisters! I wish we lived closer so we could have slumber parties every weekend!! </div>
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<strong>Amanda</strong> - Girl. What to say?! You are one of the sweetest and most loyal people I have ever met. Thank you for all of your support when times were REALLY crazy. But mostly thank you for your amazing friendship now. I'm a lucky Blockhead to have a friend like you. I know there are MANY MANY good times ahead!! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">EEEEKKKK</span>!!!!<br />
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<strong>And Ashley</strong> - WOW! What a year it's been! One year ago, I sent a PM to a girl from Atlanta who, like me, was making plans for an NYC trip in May. Little did I know what we had started! Can you believe all the things that have happened in the last year?! IT'S ALL HAPPENING! We have made some INCREDIBLE friends all while becoming best friends ourselves. Through our EXTREME highs and EXTREME lows (bipolar much?!), you know that I'll always be here for you. IT'S <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">MILEY</span>! You are my friend for life.<br />
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Last but not least...<br />
<strong>Chanda</strong> - You certainly are not a NEW friend, but one of my oldest, dearest, and most treasured. You have been with me every step of this amazing journey, if not in person, in my heart. I would not have wanted to experience May 16<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">th</span>, 2008, with anyone else. It was the MOST PERFECT 24 hours EVER!!!! Thank you for being who you have always been to me!! I can't wait to be with you on MAY 29TH!!! Just as it should be.<br />
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I'm now at the end of another crazy week due, in no small part, to these 5 gentlemen. I have bought tickets this week for what, I am PRAYING, will NOT be the last ride of this crazy adventure. But if it is, at least I will know that I made the VERY BEST of it. I have absolutely NO REGRETS. And my love has been renewed for at least another 20 years!!!<br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: 180%;">BH4<span style="color: #cc0000;">LIFE</span>!</span></strong></div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-9609901140214407442009-03-25T20:30:00.002-04:002022-03-30T13:07:58.889-04:00Amazing Person #1I have a very dear friend who lives in Chicago. He is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">truly</span> one of the coolest people I've ever met. I'm going to give him a nickname here, but I have to tell you a little bit about him first. He and I met through a mutual friend and hit it off instantly. He is one of those people that can instigate bouts of side-splitting laughter in me easier than most...not that it's difficult for anyone, mind you (I'm a giggler), but he's just one of those people that is funny without really even trying. On top of his sheer talents as an accidental comedian, he has quite a story.<br />
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My friend has a genetic condition called bilateral acoustic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">neuromas</span> or NF2. This condition began effecting him in his 20's and, at first, presented few problems as I understand it. Eventually though, he had to undergo surgeries to remove tumors and cysts around the base of his brain. The first signs of this condition presented themselves as hearing problems, and as a result of the condition as well as the surgeries, he has now lost the majority of his hearing, but that would NEVER slow him down. This guy has a successful career in marketing, is married to an equally amazing woman (also equally funny, of course), and has 3 beautiful children.<br />
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For the purposes of this blog, said dear friend is hereby nicknamed <strong>Loud & Clear</strong> or <strong>LC </strong>for short. LC would totally appreciate the humor in that name for the sake of its irony, but that's only one reason I think it works for him. Though he can barely hear what I'm saying most of the time and we hardly ever see each other since I moved away from Chicago, he's one of those people that just gets me and my humor. I think we have a mutual appreciation for each other's funny-factor, though I would say mine is FAR inferior to his. We have been known to trade emails that would make little sense to anyone else, but we find each other so funny that we just go back and forth as long as we can until one of us (usually me) just can't think of anything else funny to say. There is a little "funny pressure" in this friendship, but I'll take it considering the quality laughs we have shared.<br />
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LC and I don't get to catch up as much as I would like, but I have saved a lot of those emails. That is my go-to stash when I'm having a bad day or just need a giggle. No matter how many times I read them, laughs are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">guaranteed</span>.<br />
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Here's a little email banter we had a while back. For it to make sense (or at least as much sense as possible), you need to know that we have a mutual appreciation for "The Office" and more specifically, we both love Dwight. As such, we also love quoting Dwight as frequently as possible. Another note is that LC HATES the term 'HOTlanta'. Proceed...<br />
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<em>*<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">AJS</span> is me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">cuz</span> nicknames are just fun.*</em><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: black;"><strong><span style="font-size: 100%;">LC:</span></strong> How's Atlanta? I mean "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">hotlanta</span>"....<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">HAHAHAHAHAHAHA</span>! Whew! That's good stuff.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 85%;">So anyway, I've now added "those are the money beets" to my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">everyday</span> lexicon. It kills me every time and is an excellent way to quickly weed out the funny from the not-so-funny if you ever find yourself in a group of new people. Even if someone doesn't know the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">dwightness</span> of the source, just the phrase "money beets" should be enough. It makes me want to start a band. People would throw beets on stage when we played, it would be just like a Bare Naked Ladies concert, only with more beets, of course...and fewer <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Canadians</span>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><em><span style="color: #333333;"><strong><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">AJS</span>:</span></strong> I'd like to play the tambourine and/or triangle in the band. I'm really good.</span></em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: black;"><strong><span style="font-size: 100%;">LC:</span></strong> We're actually auditioning cow-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">bellists</span> all week. We can't seem to find anyone with that certain indefinable cow-tone that we're looking for. If you think your skills on the triangle are transferable then we'd love to hear you.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><em><span style="color: #333333;"><strong><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">AJS</span>:</span></strong> I see your dilemma. Good hand-held percussionists (that is to say, those that play handheld percussion instruments as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">opposed</span> to very small drummers) are hard to come by. I believe I can fill this void. I'll have my people call your people.</span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 85%;"><em>WHAT THIS BAND NEEDS IS MORE COWBELL!!</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><strong>LC:</strong></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxBDVQUArVjXApappXLdFErzI_t-ucnune6-6RxQfHGKT0gvL9ItaAdfBcVRYUppLRjXF5WOzZ4iOHD9oDL1wwHBedzLJDFmIwJIA5m1PDmHOWPBCXYJZNPNBzGsKp4CROGnBFJr4Zdi4/s1600-h/InfantDrummer.jpg"><span style="font-size: 85%;"></span></a><em><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></em><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 85%;">"Hand-held percussionists"</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 85%;">That's the kind of stuff that makes me sad that you moved far away. I once developed a mad crush on a girl in high school because we were on a mission trip to a Choctaw Indian Reservation and passed a house with an old lawn-mower in the front yard displaying a sign that read "Small Engine Repair", to which she saw and responded "hey - we found the pediatrician!" You would have wanted her too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><em><span style="color: #333333;"><strong><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">AJS</span>:</span></strong> Excellent Research on tiny drummers.</span></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><em><span style="color: #333333;">Did said mission trip take you to Alabama, by chance? If so, I think I know this repairman/pediatrician. He also sold fireworks. Pretty awesome. I mean seriously, where else can you get your weed eater (small engine family) serviced and shoot bottle rockets while you wait? Together at last.</span></em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: black;"><strong><span style="font-size: 100%;">LC:</span></strong> I think it was in Philadelphia, Mississippi, actually. But when you're from up here, Alabama and Mississippi are really the same place...and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">everything</span> we learned about those states came from movies or shows like 'A Time to Kill' or 'Designing Women'. So needless to say, I've been aware that everyone in your general part of the country is an interior decorating/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">klansman</span>, sweats a lot, and is often subject to unwelcome visits by either the NAACP or genial African-Americans named Anthony who drive deliver vans.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">.</span></span></span><em><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 85%;">*How could I compete with that?! And scene.</span></em><br />
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I miss you, LC!! Let's banter again soon. :)Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-9291218041615551812009-03-24T09:52:00.010-04:002021-07-24T17:38:27.896-04:00IT'S A BOY!!!!<div align="center">
I AM BEYOND THRILLED TO ANNOUNCE THAT I WILL WELCOME </div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">MY FIRST NEPHEW</span> </span></strong></div>
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TO THE WORLD IN AUGUST!!!</div>
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Don't get me wrong. I LOVE LOVE LOVE all of my nieces, but I cannot wait to have a little prince in the family. And BELIEVE ME he will be treated as such. <br />
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I called my dad yesterday - who shall heretofore be referred to as BG - to share in the PURE JOY of this news and wasn't able to reach him. Never fear. He always calls right back, but rarely leaves a message. Clearly, he was overcome with exuberance, and left me the following message: <strong></strong></div>
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<strong>CLASSIC BG</strong><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzpynOVeTWI1wMPASDPyG0ibmco0Vs148LyDfGwxNHfG3sjGR7SvqRqtS54-5LlVcNWTNhUZQZy1mV-RCXZ7A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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To know him is to love him.</div>
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Let's be very clear - THIS IS NOT MY CHILD. I AM NOT PREGNANT. But anyone who knows me can tell you, I am one of the world's biggest doting aunts. I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL AUGUST!!</div>
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No doubt, there will be lots of BG antics to come, but now you, at least, have a little taste. :)</div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5617703709209272834.post-56722164651570202632009-03-21T17:50:00.004-04:002022-03-30T13:08:35.228-04:00BeasleyLet me tell you a little something about my best bud. His name is Beasley. He'll be 4 in June. He is black and white. He loves me unconditionally and is always happy to see me...and everyone else. All he wants in life is to be near me and occasionally some food, water, and a squeaky toy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglyagVWZ8T7AwAMMO_wnw9px43LBhXNQlm_Sf4S6NgfSIYzK2vrfJ84-yEz3oAlaRqPNRlfc_mqWMYkDb6R9SZV6iQSLFVJPw2Sn4HZX4PXcg5qPSEZj74dd1pIgzQ0EV9_U4C4vu5n9vS/s1600-h/P1010004c.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315770247206276162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglyagVWZ8T7AwAMMO_wnw9px43LBhXNQlm_Sf4S6NgfSIYzK2vrfJ84-yEz3oAlaRqPNRlfc_mqWMYkDb6R9SZV6iQSLFVJPw2Sn4HZX4PXcg5qPSEZj74dd1pIgzQ0EV9_U4C4vu5n9vS/s200/P1010004c.jpg" style="float: right; height: 143px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a></div>
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Slowly but surely we got to know each other. He learned that his favorite place to take a nap was snuggled into my legs on the sofa resting his little head on my knees. He learned that those little rubber squeaky things could provide hours and hours of the most fun he'd ever had. And most importantly he learned that I loved him and would never ever do anything to hurt him. From that point on we've been a package deal. We moved from Chicago where he loved the snow and walks along Lake Michigan, to Atlanta where he can run and run outside in the warm sun almost year-round. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XIkwCU6xj8Ks2GY_qLqFJxw28ByxmrvGlTH-PW5UuEBzvf7wnA0e7uBEs2SoqM1IEb1okMWKi6CVU1xaCMNK3KIBqwY-pQktDiHn2283lXppVY9Cd_mK5BSAWxWoV8A8GPUBARpMtxLQ/s1600-h/Beasley07+006b.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315774253762219090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XIkwCU6xj8Ks2GY_qLqFJxw28ByxmrvGlTH-PW5UuEBzvf7wnA0e7uBEs2SoqM1IEb1okMWKi6CVU1xaCMNK3KIBqwY-pQktDiHn2283lXppVY9Cd_mK5BSAWxWoV8A8GPUBARpMtxLQ/s200/Beasley07+006b.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 160px;" /></a>As the man in my life, he is my consumate "protector" - letting me know when ANYTHING (and I do mean ANYTHING) may possibly be afoot outside. Although it may annoy me sometimes, I love him for that and so many other things. He has licked a lot of tears off of my cheeks and jumped around with me when I've been excited about one thing or another. He's the last face I see before I go to sleep and the first one I see when I wake up. </div>
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He's my little man. My best pal.<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18038313873825254338noreply@blogger.com2