tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49407697090551460672024-03-13T18:19:07.128-04:00Baby Girl's ObservationsIn this blog I will reflect upon my observations of my mother and other folks at the nursing home facility where she lives. In general, I will try to get inside the heads of her and some of the other folks there to try to come to a better understanding of what's going on with them. It is hard to see a parent in this situation, but I think I will be able to work through this pain through writing about it.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-87628082138641739872012-01-08T22:08:00.003-05:002012-01-08T22:08:02.150-05:00Time to say goodbye<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I haven't reposted here in a while, and won't be back. I do thank those of you who were encouraging to me while Mother was still living. It's time to move on. Thanks</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-55235708766062666622011-07-21T14:15:00.001-04:002011-07-22T10:35:53.878-04:00Heaven Is For Real????<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our VBS this year is food themed and called Shake It Up! Each night the children learn about different stories from the Bible that are food related. Last night they learned about the Last Supper. The jist of the whole theme, though, is really that we should GIVE. Give to others who may be less fortunate and Give Happily To God!!!! <img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMRgNDITBRU-6ciMILJyGBljaWMWkmlDTuTFu5F6NompZIgONti7_WSmW6CCjs3j9CcDCqfGG-MUtOhXka83L7kjieCtv58UysIYMxmdcNoLQYmmpi3dJBdyPRswY1GREZOQlwBEG0JAA/s320/100_8414.JPG" width="320" /></div>My Sunday School Class has been studying the book <u>Heaven Is For Real</u>, which is about a 4 year old boy who had a near death experience. Over the next few months, etc... he starts talking about the things he saw in Heaven. I had already read this book. I can't think off the top of my head what the boy's dad's name is, who authored the book. Anyway, I went to a couple of classes and decided that I didn't want to talk about Heaven with a large group right now. I'm not quite ready, even though it's been nine months since Mother died. I still have questions that I know will never be answered by another person on Earth anyway. I just still need to pray and search my own heart and soul. I may never, ever have answers until the day that my soul leaves my own body. I guess that's okay. I just don't think that a 4 year old boy should determine what I think of Heaven, either. Our new pastor told me he has some more books that he thinks I should read that might help me come to some kind of calm place. We'll see.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-4186975788235518612011-06-18T13:22:00.000-04:002011-06-18T13:22:15.313-04:00My Mom was My Dad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Since my father was not in the picture for most of my life, and when he was it wasn't usually very pleasant, I am going to honor my mother's memory on this Father's Day! </div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-51632280271320959912011-06-03T11:25:00.000-04:002011-06-03T11:25:37.956-04:00EVERYDAY Five Minute Friday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="http://thegypsymama.com/"></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3Y0U73EVUuhzIxfZsGO35PBQRo6NopkmU-V_B6WPTbC6sBGaGWvpimYe-r32_-CmE2Son5xrKWi0r97JZtde8NeqiCu7tNZuM9Kei4atJBJZjpGAjFf0SCRYKAFFlGtnadmyAihENLQi/s1600/100_8182.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3Y0U73EVUuhzIxfZsGO35PBQRo6NopkmU-V_B6WPTbC6sBGaGWvpimYe-r32_-CmE2Son5xrKWi0r97JZtde8NeqiCu7tNZuM9Kei4atJBJZjpGAjFf0SCRYKAFFlGtnadmyAihENLQi/s320/100_8182.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3Y0U73EVUuhzIxfZsGO35PBQRo6NopkmU-V_B6WPTbC6sBGaGWvpimYe-r32_-CmE2Son5xrKWi0r97JZtde8NeqiCu7tNZuM9Kei4atJBJZjpGAjFf0SCRYKAFFlGtnadmyAihENLQi/s1600/100_8182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is Friday, isn't it? I've been away from blogging just long enough to get out of the swing of things, but I'm trying to get back in gear. I am linking to gypsy lady's blog and her <a href="http://thegypsymama.com/">Five Minute Fridays. </a> The rule is to check out her topic for the day and write non-stop for five minutes and five minutes only without any editing, etc......</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcM_d-VrBR1QB7ky6xeEKQm9pcK3NdEmUc78QzqL9gQDL2aSbZZ-z5_Ncd5GOf2KVTZikrswgrc96rU5wkuBNmQy5UvN9Mib6zN-CYsESXmkx_B-bD9lvZ-fSBKSYxT1uj4jWwJRMLcIwT/s1600/5-minute-friday-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcM_d-VrBR1QB7ky6xeEKQm9pcK3NdEmUc78QzqL9gQDL2aSbZZ-z5_Ncd5GOf2KVTZikrswgrc96rU5wkuBNmQy5UvN9Mib6zN-CYsESXmkx_B-bD9lvZ-fSBKSYxT1uj4jWwJRMLcIwT/s1600/5-minute-friday-1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">Everyday</span> is the topic for this week.<br />
Here goes.......<br />
Everyday, I get up, brush my teeth, take a shower and then decide what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. That is what I do if my day hasn't already been planned for me, that is.<br />
I used to go to the nursing home everyday, usually twice a day. I would go at meal times to feed my mom. Now, though, my days aren't so structured.<br />
I usually sew some every day. I have been writing in my journal almost every day.<br />
But, that isn't really what I want to write about in this post. Everyday is a new day with opportunities for new ideas, creations, fun, reflections, relationships (and to renew the ones I already have), etc........... Most days I look forward to what I can accomplish by nighttime. In the evenings, I usually look back over the day to see what I have done. Some days I am very disappointed with myself, other days, I'm amazed by what all I did do!!!! Then there are the days that I am glad I just got through halfway sane. <br />
Everyday, though, I thank God for my many blessings!!!! <br />
Well, times up. This was very rambly wasn't it?</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-32314410441468698532011-06-02T13:14:00.002-04:002011-06-02T13:14:52.631-04:00Billboard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Did I tell you that the photo in the last post is on a billboard in my town? I've only had one person mention to me that they recognized me and Mother. There are two other photographs of other folks on the same billboard, and it's not in the most prominent location. But, that's ok. I'm honored that they wanted to use this photo.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-55583567173697830502011-05-05T10:02:00.000-04:002011-05-05T10:02:09.540-04:00My Mother and Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQc4_mHtWMj8Ax0rx-bGu13IOgKM6SJJLHOJxLHY59Hu67ZwcPVgieMrFPYVDmzU0njXEoyK6EIXRsHClHNWDaODpOk_J6O8nQVm_DX-gKaaIOsIt5WrYK2ozfBkfm2y2hSzogjFWI7eD/s1600/100_5490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQc4_mHtWMj8Ax0rx-bGu13IOgKM6SJJLHOJxLHY59Hu67ZwcPVgieMrFPYVDmzU0njXEoyK6EIXRsHClHNWDaODpOk_J6O8nQVm_DX-gKaaIOsIt5WrYK2ozfBkfm2y2hSzogjFWI7eD/s320/100_5490.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">May 24, 2010</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Mother's Day!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This will be the first Mother's Day without my mother-in-law or Mother. </div></div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-35446947985309579362011-05-01T23:58:00.000-04:002011-05-01T23:58:38.856-04:00Five Minute Friday on Sunday.......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://thegypsylady.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsH6vGMCORre9FC8NK2jsD4-OkUhFGXb2NmS9dtl6S3LWsDeuJFN9Ff3jPi5jVmOJmqOz_YlqrcfMW1yr4_uCc7zV8LN8ioy8Wij_uOHeTpjuz7e9wAn9lAVTtXn_nEKIxw0U3J2yTxoG/s1600/5-minute-friday-1.jpg" /></a></div>Does it count if I write on Sunday for the <a href="http://coloradolady.blogspot.com/2011/04/five-minute-friday-if-i-knew-i-could-i.html">Five Minute Friday challenge</a>? On Friday we were on the road coming back from SC. We brought our daughter and her two little ones home with us for a week. So, we are having too much fun for me to be on the computer very much.<br />
Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka the gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.Only five minutes<br />
And the rule is that whatever you write about in that five minutes is what you posts. No editing your thoughts. Today, her topic choice is "If I Knew I Could, I Would…...."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This week's topic is <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>If I knew I could, I would..........</b></span><br />
do so many things that I have always wanted to do, like write a series of children's books. I would design a line of clothing for children. I would paint well enough to sell my work. I would bake and design unbelievable cakes. I would write a book for parents and teachers that would help them help their children who are students be more successful, and by that I don't necessarily mean make better grades, but that they would be happier. I would cure allergies, cancer, COPD, staph infections, heart disease, arthritis, etc........................! I would slow down time when I am sewing and/or when I am with my grands and daughters. I would earn enough money to not ever have to worry or need for anything ever again. Oh yeah, I think the number one thing I would do is figure out how every person in the world, especially older people would have better health care and not have to worry about the cost of it!!!<br />
Times up! That was quick.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-23640681651880780362011-04-27T09:21:00.000-04:002011-04-27T09:21:57.158-04:00My peonies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB1wvT-8g4ORqdcRXHwmh-7O6fuTQdq2iLhGaYdXU86xfuzLi0DrtJgo8kHudqcx_Uyz-RXO2mDSo63QmiYiAb82Bwm5yujwQVlobL_8Nl1l5tIS1S0dXW6tn3W0LGjsO_nfqISAoD8Mp/s1600/100_8109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB1wvT-8g4ORqdcRXHwmh-7O6fuTQdq2iLhGaYdXU86xfuzLi0DrtJgo8kHudqcx_Uyz-RXO2mDSo63QmiYiAb82Bwm5yujwQVlobL_8Nl1l5tIS1S0dXW6tn3W0LGjsO_nfqISAoD8Mp/s320/100_8109.JPG" width="304" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrNq7gm7Mr0CDdopHByXiBGc_lhTEeWIAYVHRL985Ksq9KRl0w5aq_RHa-QNayoGvJNXZByc2zMYYIIMEk2jHJu_UwcJb9hKMeh_yulSqOYM7TWDaFq6iRvB1gEfcJNRPiGxZXt8y08iO/s1600/100_8115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrNq7gm7Mr0CDdopHByXiBGc_lhTEeWIAYVHRL985Ksq9KRl0w5aq_RHa-QNayoGvJNXZByc2zMYYIIMEk2jHJu_UwcJb9hKMeh_yulSqOYM7TWDaFq6iRvB1gEfcJNRPiGxZXt8y08iO/s320/100_8115.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj196M5Jw2OxrS-OHsOX_s2uLXDBxShCmKWlqxk2ly36gFb_bLpcGeCpzEPxMTNZGFXFvU0dSJ2dkyDIL5r2oplmjymZukQ5KrikU20VCko_f_tbTltJ2A19VBWI4KTqX5mLcKIbZMg93VB/s1600/100_8116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj196M5Jw2OxrS-OHsOX_s2uLXDBxShCmKWlqxk2ly36gFb_bLpcGeCpzEPxMTNZGFXFvU0dSJ2dkyDIL5r2oplmjymZukQ5KrikU20VCko_f_tbTltJ2A19VBWI4KTqX5mLcKIbZMg93VB/s320/100_8116.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGRyk6kNozpc0EdNrOSGxS5gFcTOzUHwhiSu_Dy6_o0a4V-goB6RLjx3jLnKxcU7jihVkKDW9bAa-yanprraE_LKwwx_4HUZDoNJa5wmoO1h5pkalMFbqSLr4QPPeTGhe5h21nJJtp7Jv/s1600/100_8117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGRyk6kNozpc0EdNrOSGxS5gFcTOzUHwhiSu_Dy6_o0a4V-goB6RLjx3jLnKxcU7jihVkKDW9bAa-yanprraE_LKwwx_4HUZDoNJa5wmoO1h5pkalMFbqSLr4QPPeTGhe5h21nJJtp7Jv/s320/100_8117.JPG" width="188" /></a></div>This last one is right outside of my sewing room window. I sit facing this window when I am sewing. <br />
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Please go to my other blog <a href="http://juliassewsweetandspecial.blogspot.com/">juliassewsweetandspecial.blogspot.com</a> to vote on a name for my dress form. I have a poll set up on my sidebar. Thanks.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-13339391799919807682011-04-26T09:20:00.000-04:002011-04-26T09:20:57.631-04:00A Pretty Picture<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32QcOY4Aaqztoq77vFn3ChbS4YgMxn1xoWyJnUcdtEBlli43-Ne661aO7hHT5qBRSyXpHod1OFMrnpPij9-LvjJk9iY2sUpcsMbUwsvwUSNY3iF2yiP0Vcwr4uhdsdIW5GiuZJYPNWEap/s1600/DSC03860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32QcOY4Aaqztoq77vFn3ChbS4YgMxn1xoWyJnUcdtEBlli43-Ne661aO7hHT5qBRSyXpHod1OFMrnpPij9-LvjJk9iY2sUpcsMbUwsvwUSNY3iF2yiP0Vcwr4uhdsdIW5GiuZJYPNWEap/s320/DSC03860.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>This is a photo I took at one of my daughter's house a couple of years ago. I haven't had time to take any photos, let alone do any posting lately. I thought this was so pretty. I've been working in my yard lately. I've got to get photos of my peonies! I started with one bush. I dug it up several years ago and separated it. I've done that a couple of times. Now, I have 11 separate peony plants. They are starting to bloom and are beautiful!</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-90292524255177989782011-04-08T16:47:00.002-04:002011-04-09T12:15:34.470-04:00Me - A flower girl? Reminiscing with old photos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVwcgJSsXsVDNLEuV7XdyqaEhf2Wb0hfE5sJIHK83C60xNkc1yUL4YI9iTLtfo5L7sCMStzgy_D3lc4g_okU2gPXrEU_F0hC802FBphbID5LcZU4cWV4u6XekbRLPlBY3jZJV7sHbgqkj/s1600/100_8027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVwcgJSsXsVDNLEuV7XdyqaEhf2Wb0hfE5sJIHK83C60xNkc1yUL4YI9iTLtfo5L7sCMStzgy_D3lc4g_okU2gPXrEU_F0hC802FBphbID5LcZU4cWV4u6XekbRLPlBY3jZJV7sHbgqkj/s320/100_8027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> I was a flower girl in 1957. The beautiful bride in the photo above is still just as beautiful today as she was then. I tell her all the time that it isn't right that she looks younger than her flower girl, now, 50+ years later!!! Her husband died yesterday. I am sending my thoughts and prayers her way.<br />
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••<br />
Below is a photo of my mother that was taken in the 40s. Wasn't she pretty? She had strawberry blonde hair and blue, blue, blue eyes!!!!! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZb__Ex_odBioZvQi3_25XfoSSRi3LTaa3vClLvOYcX5GXge2DSPpEHSrPuc87CyIMflhiYipqZfPPyw-gxQojrKdqBxUemgdDEra3-AvKRyJ88uc87St8CXZ0VndXDDLIzK56FQVYv4L/s1600/100_8030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZb__Ex_odBioZvQi3_25XfoSSRi3LTaa3vClLvOYcX5GXge2DSPpEHSrPuc87CyIMflhiYipqZfPPyw-gxQojrKdqBxUemgdDEra3-AvKRyJ88uc87St8CXZ0VndXDDLIzK56FQVYv4L/s320/100_8030.JPG" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a photo of my Sunday School class when I was 3 years old. I'm the square kid who is the last one to the right on the back row. My cousin, Malinda, is next to me. She's the one with the pretty smile and curls. My brother is the tallest one in the middle of the back row with the bow tie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpAsVQ5El4wJ1Rr2Q4Th7_qN4XH_c2rlu6WgmKgU8od5vwiXCsGvX47tKng64eqw8DGv7SKQy4_y3Hq3WbcRDFvovWWL-nFXTGTVosYRHVmdlFuecbDLmDQgjRsYMW_UUhgGylYC9Dz24/s1600/100_6136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpAsVQ5El4wJ1Rr2Q4Th7_qN4XH_c2rlu6WgmKgU8od5vwiXCsGvX47tKng64eqw8DGv7SKQy4_y3Hq3WbcRDFvovWWL-nFXTGTVosYRHVmdlFuecbDLmDQgjRsYMW_UUhgGylYC9Dz24/s320/100_6136.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> *************************************************<br />
This is a photo of my grandmother, Honey, and her brother. He died shortly after this was taken. She's the one who taught me to sew and who wrote all the poetry and the journals. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIaXcH86qwVkTJYQIbu_2W842cSrPB-diag0XK599R_e4RT-LkAhy2Jw1hLJTPgVEuH9f3R7_2fqamMVKQnV5AGkRgfT0FP86hXbL8LfH8_RndDkU7EVF7DsY2j8KLkcXLKe4G0ss3jgs/s1600/100_4550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIaXcH86qwVkTJYQIbu_2W842cSrPB-diag0XK599R_e4RT-LkAhy2Jw1hLJTPgVEuH9f3R7_2fqamMVKQnV5AGkRgfT0FP86hXbL8LfH8_RndDkU7EVF7DsY2j8KLkcXLKe4G0ss3jgs/s320/100_4550.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Here she is with her parents.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMM-ZvGV_qsB-a2v0X2KZ4P_GNxv8GifQxajRze-k4UMl0eDnkuqecM-cTx-Pblk2_0au5ACDQbK2tBRyVYjBo3zZbgBU5dj216QDrE-YPuOZBVEc8EYsH38I4fWd0kksQV7kb2ESPIzA2/s1600/100_4552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMM-ZvGV_qsB-a2v0X2KZ4P_GNxv8GifQxajRze-k4UMl0eDnkuqecM-cTx-Pblk2_0au5ACDQbK2tBRyVYjBo3zZbgBU5dj216QDrE-YPuOZBVEc8EYsH38I4fWd0kksQV7kb2ESPIzA2/s320/100_4552.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• <br />
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This photo was taken in 1970 of my boyfriend (my husband of 38 years, now) and me at a formal dance. Sorry about the glare of the glass in the frame. I really need to get a scanner. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZNvZFuVyy906dC4zFbktsIaFGdhTiJ9oD1DOZdqOJkRMpnsna_-EevZZSjFVlcWry2jeh7xWqZXjbgBzKbTmzUo8bopRm99wV_ywke5GuuX7Q-kUoY8tjAaw6FKWMmNJ3xr33NbEjDSP/s1600/100_4555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZNvZFuVyy906dC4zFbktsIaFGdhTiJ9oD1DOZdqOJkRMpnsna_-EevZZSjFVlcWry2jeh7xWqZXjbgBzKbTmzUo8bopRm99wV_ywke5GuuX7Q-kUoY8tjAaw6FKWMmNJ3xr33NbEjDSP/s320/100_4555.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-75308010447590640782011-04-05T22:31:00.001-04:002011-04-05T22:34:27.986-04:00Update on My Brother<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><em>My brother woke up with a new hip prostheses in place! Yea!!!! Let's just hope that the infection really is gone!!! He is in a lot more pain this time around because while the spacer was in place his leg drew up and the tissue, etc.... grew around the "dummy" hip. During the surgery, they had to pull on his leg to fit the prostheses into place. Also, they had to remove a lot of tissue to test and to be able to fit the new hip in. But, he is now home, in great spirits. He is somewhat anemic. They are talking about the possibility of a blood transfusion! We sure are praying that he doesn't have to have that done!</em><br />
<em>His attitude is way better than mine would be if I were in his place. </em><br />
<em>We've been to the NE to see two of our daughters and their families. Two of our grands were in a musical. It was great! They are so talented! I am so very proud of them. We're home, and we're tired. The 14 hour drive is tiring but worth it to see our girls.Our other daughter has moved to SC which is just a few hours drive for us compared to the all day airplane trip we had while she was in AZ! Yea!</em><br />
<em><br />
</em></div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-4236686971980793512011-03-30T15:59:00.000-04:002011-03-30T15:59:32.254-04:00Prayers for my brother, again, please<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Tomorrow my brother is undergoing the 4th major surgery on his hip since last May. He had a hip replacement done in May, by June he realized something wasn't right. He had a major staph infection. They opened him up, drained more infectious gunk than you would believe from the hip area (4 liters!), took out part of the prostheses, cleaned the area, put the prostheses back in, and sent him home with antibiotics by iv for 6 weeks. He was off the antibiotics (off and on) till January. The infection would not go away. So, they opened him back up, took out the entire prostheses, and put an antibiotic filled "dummy" hip spacer in its place. He went home with another 6 weeks of antibiotic by iv. The past couple of weeks he's been off the antibiotics to see what would happen. The blood work doesn't look good, but the fluid they drained from his hip last week did look ok. So, tomorrow, they are going back in. They will take tissue samples and run tests on them while he is in the operating room. If they look good, he will wake up with a new hip prostheses. If it doesn't look good, he will wake up with another "dummy" hip spacer and will go home to another 6 weeks of antibiotic by iv and facing yet another surgery. He does not think the infection is gone because his hip is hurting again like it did when all this started. So, please pray that the tissue samples are clear of infection and that this is the last surgery he will have to have. Thanks</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-62101679842894532022011-03-29T09:11:00.001-04:002011-03-29T17:28:21.123-04:00It's going to be a sad day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">My father-in-law's dog, Honey, a beautiful boxer, is so very sick and old. My father-in-law loves this dog so much. Since my mother-in-law died, Honey has been his 24/7 companion, well, actually she was his and her companion for so many years. She was the delight of my mother-in-law's last few years!!!!! She used to slip her bites of food, let her do anything she wanted, etc.....then she'd say, "She's only a dog once."<br />
Honey has been really slipping for the past few months. We have noticed a considerable difference in her every day. Last night, we went over to watch the Lady Vols lose to Notre Dame ( BoooooHoooooo). Honey was just laying there, breathing with that short, little, fast breath that is the indicator, I've learned, that a person's (or dog's) life is coming to an end. She had that glazed look in her eyes, too. The saddest thing was to see her try to stand up and not be able to raise her hips off the floor. She hasn't eaten for a few days. My father-in-law got her up and took her outside, but it took him and my husband both to get her back inside. He took her out this morning and she couldn't stand up long enough to pee. I think he has come to the conclusion that her time has come. He's going to call the vet this morning to make an appointment to have her put down. He always said he wouldn't do this, but watching her suffer is more than he can stand to see.<br />
He is going to bury her in her dog lot, next to the rose bush that someone sent when my mother-in-law died exactly 11 months ago, today. Marie will be so happy to see her Honey again!<br />
So, please be thinking about and praying for my father-in-law today. It's going to be a hard one.<br />
This has been a rough year for our families, with my mother-in-law and my mother both dying, and our 19 1/2 year old cat, Vanilla, and now, Honey.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-46904720099900424962011-03-25T10:11:00.001-04:002011-03-25T17:31:54.709-04:00Still Off Track, Or Maybe, Just Going A Different Direction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For right now, I don't "feel like" getting inside my mother's head. I can't do it anyway, so for now, I'm going to go a different direction. It's not like I haven't been off the track anyway. So, today I want to share a prayer that I found in one of my grandmother's journals. It was written by my Aunt Cissy. She was in several clubs, etc..., and I have a feeling she wrote this to be prayed at the beginning or end of a meeting. It is titled:<br />
<br />
A Prayer For the Middle-Aged<br />
<br />
Lord, thou knowest better than I would know myself that I am growing older and that some day I shall be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.<br />
<br />
Keep my mind free from recital of endless details, give me wings to get at the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure with patience.<br />
<br />
I dare not ask for improved memory, but for growing humility, and a lessening of cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memory of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that, occasionally, I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet - - I do not want to be a saint - - some of them are so hard to live with, but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.<br />
<br />
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.<br />
<br />
S.M.B.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-20313388716317572952011-03-19T19:29:00.002-04:002011-03-19T21:58:36.917-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EWESFe09vK_EwoSUDEVAHJCnjzTxks1L8U5tbfL1UGozSQsQvZRwWjQG_fdEUFCMWjo45gg_F5EIE_jXbOoQnEs1bX7Icf0xGf1gSIL4fWF5K2w9lQwe1t6UhFIIUIIKpDTP_fGrU1Yj/s400/SAM_0510.jpg" width="266" /></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">I have read about Pay it Forward a couple of times and liked the idea. When I read <a href="http://sherry-blessingsfromournest.blogspot.com/">Sherry's post at Blessings From Our Nest</a> I decided I would sign up and give it a try. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">This is how it works. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"> The first five people who leave a comment on this post will receive a gift handmade by me for you. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">There is an important catch, <u>First</u> you must create a post explaining Pay it Forward 2011. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">Then for the best part, make and send a gift to the first five visitors who comment on your post and who agree to do the same. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">Don't worry you don't have to send these gifts out tomorrow, your gifts from the heart will take a little time. Also, your gift doesn't have to be elaborate or difficult to make. It could be as simple as a bookmark or whatever you feel like and have time to make.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"> This should be a fun way to make new friends and share your creativity. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">Pay it Forward is about friendship and sharing.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><i style="color: #274e13;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Julia</span></b></i></a></div></div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-43796797775982278912011-03-15T12:24:00.002-04:002011-03-15T12:24:19.449-04:00Sadness Is A State of Mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b>Sadness Is A State of Mind</b></i></div><br />
Sadness is a state of mind<br />
And of body and soul, I find.<br />
<br />
If all I see is darkness and gloom<br />
and sadness in my life, it will consume.<br />
<br />
So, when things just aren't right<br />
I must look around and seek the light.<br />
<br />
It is all around me every day,<br />
Even in just a smile that comes my way.<br />
<br />
I need to let the warmth of love come in<br />
And fill my heart to let happiness win.<br />
<br />
Without happiness there cannot be success.<br />
I sometimes forget this, I must confess.<br />
<br />
I will try harder to remember this<br />
When things don't go as I wish.<br />
<br />
JR March 2011<br />
<br />
After finishing my grandmother's journals, I felt very sad. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to read them, but it saddened me to realize how lonesome she was the last couple of years of her life. We were all too busy to see it. I could have spent more time with her. I'm not going to beat myself up over it, because I didn't know. I hope this will help me to see that sadness in other people's eyes, and perhaps I can bring a little joy to them with a smile, an extra "hello", a note, a card, a phone call, or a visit.<br />
<br />
</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-89709285797511358502011-03-12T11:27:00.001-05:002011-03-12T11:29:53.399-05:00I Have Strayed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I haven't kept this blog on the right vein, or at least not on the vein I intended when I started it. Of course, things changed drastically when Mother died. BUT, I have been reading my grandmother's journals and it has taken me way back to when Mother was a young mother and wife. I think I will try to get in her head, just a little bit, from way back then.<br />
A little background info:<br />
My mother had a college degree in Zoology from the University of Tennessee. She went to Atlanta for training at Grady Hospital in lab technology. That is where she met my dad. He had been off to "war". Actually, he quit high school to join the Merchant Marine's. He wasn't able to get into one of the three big branches of the military due to a heart condition he had since birth. His big brothers had joined up though, and I guess he thought he should, too. It's hard for me to imagine that my grandparents let him quit high school to join the war effort, but that was a different time. He never did finish high school.<br />
<br />
Mother and Daddy met on a blind date. I don't know a lot of details, but I did find a letter that Mother's best friend from home wrote to her. Mother had saved a whole box of these letters, but when I found them they were very mildewed. I only read one, and then decided that what they wrote to each other wasn't my business, so since they were in such bad shape anyway, I threw them away. Sometimes I wish I had read the rest, but.......... Anyway, in that letter, Mother's friend said something like, "If you don't tell me more about this tall, dark, and handsome man you met, I'm going to go crazy." Daddy really was a tall, dark, and handsome man! He and his brothers all were. His mom had some Cherokee Indian in her ancestry. You could see that gorgeousness in him. In this letter, Mother's friend also makes mention of Mother going to meet his parents.<br />
<br />
Like I said, I know little about this period. Mother didn't talk about it much.<br />
They married in 1946 in an afternoon service at the church where I am a member now. This is the church where my great grandparents went. Anyway, the friend, who wrote the letters, and her husband (one of Mother's lifelong friends, too) hosted a reception for them at their tiny little house!<br />
My grandmother made Mother's dress. I still have it. It is short and has a detachable peplum. The fabric is yellowed now, so I really don't know if it was white or off white. My grandmother also made, by hand, not machine, a beautiful gown and robe for Mother. My parents went on a honeymoon in the Cherokee National Forest. They stayed in a friend's cabin.<br />
My dad worked for my grandfather, who owned a hardware/farmer's supply store in town. He must have had "issues" with my grandfather. He worked at various other jobs when we were little. I don't know all those details, either. My grandmother mentions that, "R___ worked his last last day at the store today. O____was sick in body and mind over it." So, like I said, I don't know what happened. I do know that my grandfather was a demanding person and perhaps he didn't like "something" about my dad's work habits. I don't know, this is speculation.<br />
My sister was born within the first year of their marriage. Mother almost died from toxemia. She was rushed to a hospital about 60 miles away. She had convulsions, etc.... My sister was born 2 months early by C-Section. She was tiny. However, she was able to leave the hospital before my mother was. Mother was told that she shouldn't have any more children. I don't know if birth control methods were just about non-existent was the reason that she had my brother three years later or not. He was also born by C-Section at the same hospital where my sister was born. Mother was in better health when he was born, however, and she actually recovered more quickly than she did with my sister. The doctors tied Mother's tubes when he was born.<br />
SOoooooooooooooooo, 18 months later when Mother fainted in a department store, she was taken to the same hospital where my sister and brother were born. It was then that she learned she was 5 months pregnant with ME! Uh....... back then, they only tied the tubes. They didn't cut, tie, and cauterize them as they do now. But, Mother always said I was her BONUS BABY. She had the least trouble with my birth of either of the others, even though she did have another C-Section.<br />
<span style="color: red;">I always thought that <i><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;">I</span></span></b></i> was the cause of the stress,</span> etc.... that caused my parents break-up. Of course, I know that wasn't the case, but really, it made sense to me when I was a kid. I was the third, and unexpected child, born when Daddy was not settled in a job. So, doesn't it make sense that my birth is what shook up their marriage. Our house wasn't really big enough for 3 kids, only 2. No one ever said anything to me to make me feel this way, but until I was an adult, I thought that I was the cause of their problems. I still have to stop and tell myself that this wasn't true. First of all, I had nothing to do with the fact that I was born. I think, they were having issues long before I came along, etc......... All of the sensible explanations in the world didn't make me feel any better, though. I never verbalized how I thought to Mother. I just felt guilty.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will stop here for today.......... I'll try to get into Mother's head during this period of her life in my next post. I am not going to go back to reread this and make grammatical or typographical corrections, so please just overlook any you see.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-32888789131489080742011-03-10T12:54:00.003-05:002011-03-10T18:43:41.648-05:00A Wonderful Day With Old Friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Yesterday, I went with one of my junior high/high school/life long friends to visit another of our j.h./h.s./l.l. friends. We visited, went to lunch, and shopped in some great shops. I should have taken my camera, but I didn't. These are two friends who knew my mother, as I knew theirs. We have many, many memories that we talked and talked and talked about. What fun we had reminiscing. </div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-76239968820993043082011-03-06T15:37:00.000-05:002011-03-06T15:37:12.886-05:00STOP, LOOK, and<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Really Listen was the theme of our sermon at church today. I am so guilty of not stopping to notice what's going on around me and in the lives of others. I am also guilty of not seeing (looking) at the body language of those I love to see how they are really feeling, rather than just going with what they tell me. Most of all, I am guilty of not REALLY listening to others. One ear is always hearing something else, somewhere else. I intend to do better!</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-86557010176393423972011-03-05T09:38:00.003-05:002011-03-05T10:13:17.740-05:00First, Fifth, Forever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUgT4A2cL-Liv4CiU8WarCaMJjouCg-ywBENIc0Mo18p1xRfPr3U-ebGUPTPkMxtsrP0eebKXBeMRdXP-IbP61Pn72KbfHn2A6Jv0DzXFvvGHPKqVdSs6poa_K8DO6l5V4F90aNLJ7tbQ/s1600/FirstFifthForever.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUgT4A2cL-Liv4CiU8WarCaMJjouCg-ywBENIc0Mo18p1xRfPr3U-ebGUPTPkMxtsrP0eebKXBeMRdXP-IbP61Pn72KbfHn2A6Jv0DzXFvvGHPKqVdSs6poa_K8DO6l5V4F90aNLJ7tbQ/s1600/FirstFifthForever.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">http://coloradolady.blogspot.com/</div><div style="text-align: center;">Last month, I linked up to <a href="http://coloradolady.blogspot.com/" style="color: red;">Coloradolady's </a>Letter Writing Challenge. As I love to get and send mail, this really isn't a challenge for me. Please visit her site and watch the joy on the face of this man as he opens his birthday cards!</div><div style="text-align: center;">This month, I sent:</div><div style="text-align: center;">1. A note to my friend who has just recently found out she's going to be a grandmom soon. I taught school with this lady for YEARS! I taught her daughter who is giving her this grandchild. </div><div style="text-align: center;">2. A 100th Birthday card to Miss Lena, with whom I worked in a fabric store when I was a teenager. She was such a great mentor to me. I loved working with her.</div><div style="text-align: center;">3. A note to my sweet, dear friend, who was also my mother's, aunts', grandmother's dear, sweet friend. She sits right behind my husband at church where she always sat with her husband and beautiful little girls when we were growing up. I'm reading my grandmother's journals from when I was a child. This dear lady is on every other page. She was always bringing a cake, or hosting the Women's Club, or the Circle Meeting, etc..... She lives alone now, and has recently celebrated her 90th birthday, even though you wouldn't believe me if you could see her. She is beautiful and doesn't look like she's out of her 60s!</div><div style="text-align: center;">4. A note to another sweet lady from our church who is now in an assisted living facility. She came to church with her son recently and told me how much she enjoyed my note from last month. Seeing that smile on her face has encouraged me to send her cards and notes more often. I used to go visit <b>her mother </b>when I was a teenager. I baked Snickerdoodles to take to her. Her daughter sings in the choir with me at church now.</div><div style="text-align: center;">5. A note to my dear cousin, Malinda. She is always doing the most thoughtful things for everyone!</div><div style="text-align: center;">6. A Sympathy Card to my friend whose mother recently passed away. Her mother and mine were roommates for a while at the nursing home. Her mother taught school at the elementary school when I was a kid. She was either 94 or 95 when she died.</div><div style="text-align: center;">7. A Get Well greeting to my friend, who is also the church secretary. She had shoulder surgery recently. </div><div style="text-align: center;">8. A Get Well greeting to yet another dear lady who goes to our church. In reading my grandmother's journals I am learning about just how much these families are tied to mine from many decades ago. This lady grew up down the street from where I grew up (and where my mom grew up). She lives just a bit beyond there now. She was in my mother-in-law's high school class. She's not felt well for a couple of months now. She's had a BAD COLD type illness and just can't seem to get over it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">9. A package to our oldest granddaughter who broke her thumb last week. I sent her the popcorn sweater that I knitted for her. I was going to wait until I finished her sister's sweater, but decided that she needed a pick-me-up now. Her sister will understand. I included a note.</div></div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-5788353632670393992011-03-03T14:11:00.000-05:002011-03-03T14:11:58.879-05:00ROW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;">Here is an inspiring poem that my grandmother, Honey, wrote. Her real name was Beulah, but we called her Honey. The oldest of the cousins thought that was her name because that's what our granddaddy called her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Row</div><div style="text-align: center;">When there's no breeze, row.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Bend to your oars and go.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Look up, not down</div><div style="text-align: center;">With never a frown</div><div style="text-align: center;">For the man with a smile</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wins the race worthwhile.</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, row, man, row.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #351c75;">I just heard a few minutes ago, that the lady who lived across the hall from my mom at the nursing home, died this morning. Her daughter and I became very close while visiting our moms. She had had a stroke and couldn't really move her body much, and could only speak very quietly. But, she was so very sweet. Her children were very devoted to her. The daughter I became close to was there every day. </i><br />
</div></div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-35248146963315302442011-02-28T13:11:00.001-05:002011-02-28T13:14:51.790-05:00More of Honey's poetry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">No Title<br />
<br />
A little more tired at close of day<br />
A little less anxious to have our way<br />
A little less ready to scold and blame<br />
A little more care for a brother's name<br />
And so we are nearing the journey's end<br />
Where time and eternity meet and blend<br />
The book is closed and prayers are said<br />
And we are a part of the countless dead<br />
Thrice happy there if some soul can say,<br />
"I live because she has passed this way."<br />
<br />
This sounds a little morbid, but I have a feeling it was written soon after my grandfather died. I'm reading her journals. She was pretty sad for a long while. She wrote that she didn't want to let anyone know how sad she was because she didn't want to make them sad. I know how she feels about this.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say that I do live because she passed this way, and not just because she was my grandmother, but because she was my role model, mentor, teacher of sewing, and a great and real Southern Lady!</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-38877648451934110242011-02-25T12:39:00.000-05:002011-02-25T12:39:48.374-05:00Another poem by Honey - this one a Prayer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">A Prayer <br />
<br />
Lord let me live from day to day<br />
In a most self forgetful way<br />
That when I hear Thee call, "It's just a little while."<br />
I'll be ready to fall asleep with a smile.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-37229684835386430282011-02-24T11:16:00.000-05:002011-02-24T11:16:20.564-05:00"House Cleaning" by our grandmother, Honey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div>This isn't really about house cleaning. <br />
<br />
House Cleaning by Honey Brakebill<br />
<br />
When winter is over<br />
With its clutter and muss,<br />
We clean all the corners<br />
And sweep out the dust.<br />
We climb the stairs<br />
From bottom to top,<br />
Rubbing and scrubbing,<br />
Until we're ready to drop.<br />
The house is all shining<br />
Gone the must and the mold,<br />
But there's something fine<br />
We've left untold.<br />
Have we let in the sun and pure fresh air<br />
And washed away prejudice, discontent and care?<br />
Have we opened the way for meekness,<br />
Self discipline, and inspiration<br />
And set up a pattern of self purification?<br />
By brushing out the cobwebs<br />
And brushing off the mold, have we<br />
Opened the windows of heart, mind, and soul?</div></div></div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4940769709055146067.post-75980872296684090032011-02-23T11:35:00.000-05:002011-02-23T11:35:10.727-05:00Honey's Journals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">My grandmother started keeping a journal the year I was born. Her first entry is to tell that my cousin Malinda had been born a few days before. Her first entry also was about her and my granddaddy's 38th wedding anniversary.<br />
My sister is visiting this week. We've had fun reading these. We have laughed and almost cried about some of the entries. <br />
Our mother started keeping journals the year our grandmother died (I think). My sister has those. She said she would bring them to me. <br />
I've now started keeping a journal. I hope I will be as faithful as my mother and grandmother were.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Itqa4xvtl1EfPdQIIDo86o0bko_1kEJ8OgwOSiGkaNCLkXTc57B8oim4bco7o0S0Z_ifz3qTFHZbtouiAzQZPQUqILt-YPKWz5xZhPOO5OHrJ6H4kf6zRmp-0u-y-WF5VCEjVnKLZp1W/s1600/100_7682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Itqa4xvtl1EfPdQIIDo86o0bko_1kEJ8OgwOSiGkaNCLkXTc57B8oim4bco7o0S0Z_ifz3qTFHZbtouiAzQZPQUqILt-YPKWz5xZhPOO5OHrJ6H4kf6zRmp-0u-y-WF5VCEjVnKLZp1W/s320/100_7682.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>This photo shows just a few of Honey's journals.</div>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10097054119585201394noreply@blogger.com1