tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73353935016788132952023-11-15T23:47:45.440-08:00Unearthed Rootsjennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-85712124945700253632020-06-28T16:47:00.004-07:002021-02-12T14:54:51.256-08:00story part 6.28Twenty-five years ago (I was 18) I found out I was pregnant. I had just completed a year of college and I was living back at home with my parents (after a short-term move that had ended with my two roommates in the hospital).<br />
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I was so sick. So, I went to the health clinic to find out what was wrong. I remember a large, round man walking in the room, wiping the sweat off his brow, holding a clipboard. I sat there alone on the chair, next to the door, waiting for my diagnosis. He looked at his paper and without looking at me, said, “it appears you’re pregnant. Are you going to keep it?” I was very confused at this information and this question. The room suddenly seemed so smalI. I was speechless. He stood there impatiently looking at his paper and then, realizing I wasn’t answering, looked at me and said, “well? Do you plan to keep it or not?”<br />
I stammered, “yes. Yes, I plan to.” He scribbled something on his paper, tore it off, handed it to me, murmured something and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.<br />
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I sat there. Sick. Confused. Excited. Torn. Shocked.<br />
<br />
I was pregnant.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv42567eY3oZzNxict4EKYxFwwAhyphenhyphenGw0Eo-j8MOY528GovWYeenHuCPN93W2dadrCOwsuL_KGE5ikjOWu5BYoxeNbeE6AW7jUueoA79C8B9zfI7kPnCjJDvXlYN_LgLw3e1dV7JKW-29E/s1600/87B93013-FA12-4C79-ABEE-CBED59F838AD.JPEG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="1600" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv42567eY3oZzNxict4EKYxFwwAhyphenhyphenGw0Eo-j8MOY528GovWYeenHuCPN93W2dadrCOwsuL_KGE5ikjOWu5BYoxeNbeE6AW7jUueoA79C8B9zfI7kPnCjJDvXlYN_LgLw3e1dV7JKW-29E/s320/87B93013-FA12-4C79-ABEE-CBED59F838AD.JPEG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my journal 6/28/95</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Then I did what I usually do. I kept silent. I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. Even when I would begin to share, it would be slow and carefully guarded, for my own protection. There would be no celebratory announcement. I was a young, unmarried college student. This was 1995. There was shame and failure preceded with guilt, and the knowing... that my life was about to jump onto a different track. Who could see the path it would take? It probably looked like a derail to most. Even I knew it would be hard. But pregnancy takes time. God is so sweet to give nine long months to grow us. I grew. Everyone grew.<br />
And what seemed like some of the hardest, most confusing times in my life, taught me more about Perseverance and Commitment and Love and Grace-<i> than I ever knew I’d need to know</i>. What may have seemed like a tragic turn of events to many for my life, was actually a beautiful turn to whom we would each become, eventually.<br />
It would <b>never </b>be easy...God showed me that from the beginning. I went on to make a <i>million </i>mistakes. But I never gave up hope. Somehow, I held on, or was held.<br />
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This is my story.<br />
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jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-78138411936893596822019-07-31T12:46:00.002-07:002019-08-01T08:14:49.340-07:00Morning Run in JulyLast Friday I had the best run I've ever had in my life. Not my fastest time. But my absolute most favorite run ever. I've been running for about 3 years consistently now. But over the past year I've been better about making the time to run while traveling. We camped in OH, MI, IL, and MO and I ran every other day. But the delight of the show happened unsuspectingly early Friday morning, when I thought I was just going to run down a country road and ended up on a greenway that led from the campground to the park. It was an absolute dream. I got back and could not contain the experience, so I wrote it down:<br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fresh scent of damp morning woods</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Birds calling -- wild and sweet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">like the flowers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">pushing up from ground to sky</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">stretching strong and astute </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bursting with green stems and colored</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">with pride towards their Creator</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-5f38175f-7fff-6cb2-0434-d958436ccabd">
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-5f38175f-7fff-6cb2-0434-d958436ccabd"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sunlight, breaking through clouds</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> as the rabbits munch,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the deer graze</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The meadow beats and rests, laid out</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-5f38175f-7fff-6cb2-0434-d958436ccabd"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">between gently rolling hills</span></span></span><br />
<span id="docs-internal-guid-5f38175f-7fff-6cb2-0434-d958436ccabd"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-5f38175f-7fff-6cb2-0434-d958436ccabd">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I run right into it, round the corner, inhaling</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the cool summer air - so clean, so new.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I am met with all of them,</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">together at once:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">SUN, SKY, MEADOW, MOUNTAIN,</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxV8q53oyedSITCSbg_Cja9mQc8A1BXNzXRi64w3GsLgXfrZe0VDij14IzByhBwkqsNqESbt7qNjmxqlylRbmD83ghlz8eoaAeonuAniZ00SNAuDS9wEbW4KKb1d7s-yZHj4A2Pun_bI/s1600/IMG_1766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></a><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">FOG, WILD FLOWERS, TALL GRASSES, TREES,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and GLORY!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxV8q53oyedSITCSbg_Cja9mQc8A1BXNzXRi64w3GsLgXfrZe0VDij14IzByhBwkqsNqESbt7qNjmxqlylRbmD83ghlz8eoaAeonuAniZ00SNAuDS9wEbW4KKb1d7s-yZHj4A2Pun_bI/s1600/IMG_1766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxV8q53oyedSITCSbg_Cja9mQc8A1BXNzXRi64w3GsLgXfrZe0VDij14IzByhBwkqsNqESbt7qNjmxqlylRbmD83ghlz8eoaAeonuAniZ00SNAuDS9wEbW4KKb1d7s-yZHj4A2Pun_bI/s320/IMG_1766.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I cannot hold back. My arms burst </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">open wide, in praise!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All this for me? All five miles?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can see, hear, feel, smell, breathe, and </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">believe it’s all happening - then for a</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">moment I inhale and exhale and become</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">one with it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That close.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am more than just running through it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have become a part of the canvas,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the artwork that beats and rests and</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">stretches and sings.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I bring it into me and release it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am held within it and freed by it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am OF the beauty, </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">crying out, “God, You have </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">made me </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">for </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You have made </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">for me!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And ALL of Your works are wonderful!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I know this even more fully now.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqruoKRCOagYRYRozQE8dwOi7sTtm7vaVdhazzdXOMiK1QnrcM82tp235cda-jE2DLZvV0unW_z0BTKLN48eDTwt0_T1s37MoKXaN4w1gCZCcmYKGwViIjPAVrD4b_4IDCf-57aEXr-8/s1600/69924BE8-79CE-408C-B4D6-21892D23CF55.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqruoKRCOagYRYRozQE8dwOi7sTtm7vaVdhazzdXOMiK1QnrcM82tp235cda-jE2DLZvV0unW_z0BTKLN48eDTwt0_T1s37MoKXaN4w1gCZCcmYKGwViIjPAVrD4b_4IDCf-57aEXr-8/s400/69924BE8-79CE-408C-B4D6-21892D23CF55.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-62001785138607299542018-04-17T05:02:00.001-07:002018-04-17T05:06:09.475-07:00Hiking Words<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"I have never heard silence so loud." -Jenna Jimenez</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzExlq86Vi64oegmHqxwlmXc4b1GNxFhKO9DRSebBfUY2nW3fbzGFBhMRvNYU1r9xm2nmpPv0Xf3oyQXLxsZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3/24/18 - written at the meadow clearing atop the Syllamore Trail in Arkansas</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The work of the pack up the rocky path</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The heave of uphill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The wind, the air!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The cool breeze at the tops of mountains.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The sunshine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Miles and miles the mountains flow on </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and the trees raise praise to You.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The rocks DO cry out in silence to You. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The wind DOES go where You send it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I am here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">ON this mountain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Trying to take it all in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But I cannot</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's too wide, too deep</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and goes on forever</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So I just stand in it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here.</span>jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-64190150933246868282018-04-16T11:04:00.001-07:002018-04-16T11:12:15.131-07:00Four Days + Three Nights: Two Gals on a Backpacking Trip <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeLuVo7XOmyR3QbJaZ6iH1PZWEOaToF1eRPOtLpBCf1gMNeZQAmbKWV4KQxVfzsdfZVRWHXSZJ-ZfMyd_L1WCFdZ_eOCBS8czWwRql0UyWSmETUAJst1C1_Y8CuusQE382ThVzKHS2Wo/s1600/IMG_4606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeLuVo7XOmyR3QbJaZ6iH1PZWEOaToF1eRPOtLpBCf1gMNeZQAmbKWV4KQxVfzsdfZVRWHXSZJ-ZfMyd_L1WCFdZ_eOCBS8czWwRql0UyWSmETUAJst1C1_Y8CuusQE382ThVzKHS2Wo/s400/IMG_4606.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning NSCT (Tiff left, Jenna right)</td></tr>
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Planning a backpacking trip on trails you've never even walked on is quite exciting- and a little bit terrifying. The trails I chose were practically in the backyard of where I spent my reformative years (middle school through high school) in North Central Arkansas. My parents still live there, so fortunately it was close enough for Dad to be our "shuttle." I don't know if these trails existed when I lived there twenty-five years ago, because I didn't get into trail running, hiking, and backpacking until a year ago. But I do know that two races were held on these trails in the month prior, so I felt confident they existed recently.<br />
The<a href="https://www.hikingproject.com/trail/7010579/north-sylamore-creek-trail" target="_blank"> North Sylamore Creek Trail (NSCT)</a> has lots of great information online. It passes through three campgrounds. We found the Trail Head in Allison, AR without much trouble, and as we'd been warned online - we had to cross the fairly wide creek right off. We waved bye to Dad, and trekked on, enthusiastically.<br />
My friend Tiffany had agreed to come with me. She usually jumps at my plans like this; she likes it as much as I do. She is 36 and I am 41. We look years younger, we know...<br />
We both live in Tennessee. She was born and raised in Alabama<br />
and I was born in Arkansas, raised in Kansas City, KS and then back in AR. We both love the natural places.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispyncStAGbJ794MhfQ9l6UeCTo9tAC9wmJbXUjfaaQaYtH8ja2BYA7YuegXKgfZDwe75YW6B_jp8a78Hg-uviIoJ1yxZq8WnaEF_EiBedk0WsTLiP1CmUrixirB1RExI07sI66h3wm4M/s1600/IMG_4621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispyncStAGbJ794MhfQ9l6UeCTo9tAC9wmJbXUjfaaQaYtH8ja2BYA7YuegXKgfZDwe75YW6B_jp8a78Hg-uviIoJ1yxZq8WnaEF_EiBedk0WsTLiP1CmUrixirB1RExI07sI66h3wm4M/s200/IMG_4621.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiffany crossing stream</td></tr>
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We set out for Gunner Pool, a ten mile hike for day one. It was not hard, but our bodies had to adjust. We arrived early enough to set up camp in daylight, pay our fees in the envelop box, and find water. Except the pumps were all dry. There were lots of people camping... but no filtered water for campers like the website had indicated. Bummer. I asked the guy walking his dog and he sadly said no, and he'd seen us hike in and felt bad, so come on over after we set up and he'd give us water from his RV to save us from filtering one night. We had a great conversation with him, his wife, and dog, and enjoyed it quite well! They were adventure travelers from Wisconsin and were currently keeping South of the cold, and moving around as they liked, in the luxury of their RV. Their eyes glistened with envy and excitement for us, and respect too. Making friends, even ones you'll never meet again, is cool. They highly recommended <a href="https://www.wildernessinquiry.org/destination/boundary-waters-canoe-area-guided-trips/" target="_blank">The Boundary Waters Canoe Trails</a> and some famous Florida trail (that I forget the name of) to us. Sounded amazing!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrG4D6N8jL3PKi7c2z2L6BbXitDDM1aaUjLk-nhL7Yz3mv2Xe9ug0ozngDqO-P4nnrv8u0oPbiQ3mgi1LXeGY7grwcqdhl2O3Q1lCaXcU7HwdsZ29XRVJ5Jp-8I1G157KkJRlpu_K1B8/s1600/IMG_4651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrG4D6N8jL3PKi7c2z2L6BbXitDDM1aaUjLk-nhL7Yz3mv2Xe9ug0ozngDqO-P4nnrv8u0oPbiQ3mgi1LXeGY7grwcqdhl2O3Q1lCaXcU7HwdsZ29XRVJ5Jp-8I1G157KkJRlpu_K1B8/s400/IMG_4651.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
Gunner Pool was peaceful, with the (stream) water literally pooling up and flowing over right under our campsite. I was glad to get back on the trail the next morning though. That trail changed so often that it never got boring! We were headed to Barkshed, then on toward Cripple Turkey Trail Head, the end of the NSCT and our connector to the Ozark Highlands Trail (OHT). We decided to go about 10-12 miles. Then, we revised the plan to state that at 5:30 we would begin to look for a good spot to camp off the trail. We had to find camp by 6:30 to set up before it got dark at 7:30. We thought this was all a good plan. We had never camped along a trail before in a non-designated or non pre-determined location. But we figured we could handle it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PVGtYGRc0Eu6ZjSISKZ4SnhXd9rtSNJJR2tdhmz6R-3461P3ivn3y9mQdmNmbKGPD1Xe-nD9sAjW2iXuVnqnuh_Sx6yX1SJNwDOiYEPI3GslpnDFqGkYqbJ90Voy6iYGOFP5pr0AnZM/s1600/IMG_4674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PVGtYGRc0Eu6ZjSISKZ4SnhXd9rtSNJJR2tdhmz6R-3461P3ivn3y9mQdmNmbKGPD1Xe-nD9sAjW2iXuVnqnuh_Sx6yX1SJNwDOiYEPI3GslpnDFqGkYqbJ90Voy6iYGOFP5pr0AnZM/s200/IMG_4674.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiffany trekking</td></tr>
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Well...I'm not going to say that it was easy. We stopped at an okay location by the creek and filled up our water container to carry (with the plan to filter it at camp or boil what we needed to cook with), since it was nearly 6pm. The creek was kind of buggy, so we went looking for a better spot. Looking back, that may not have been the wisest decision. We had a hard time finding level ground the further we ascended and went up around the mountain. Finally, (and long story short) we hiked up and off the trail to the edge of a meadow and camped there. It was a windy, but a warmer night. We had to hang our food bag for the first time "for real." That was hilarious. We had to filter water and clear out a good spot for the tent that was somewhat level and would hopefully not get punctured by whatever had been harvested there.<br />
We had both been a little frustrated, but a bowl of warm soup, filtered water, and the prospect of sleep put us in better moods. The fun part about backpacking is when you get to your "camp stop" you don't really get to rest. There is a LOT of work involved in just unpacking, changing, eating, and setting up camp. Finally, rest comes. Tiffany said she felt good about all we'd done and if we decided to leave the trail the next day, she felt satisfied that we'd accomplished what we'd set out to do.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2ZRNWhQlOBVkqPah3TUrzLE_MN0GzCM91oS1J4QTc9i6gd1uFg6GADTrzP8FdsbX9oW2vaVr2kkU38f1IL4EacLfgH1hbdymhy5tcV4cYibnZKzHjWUMBo6rijbd1YuBeu6hHy0rrbc/s1600/IMG_4664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2ZRNWhQlOBVkqPah3TUrzLE_MN0GzCM91oS1J4QTc9i6gd1uFg6GADTrzP8FdsbX9oW2vaVr2kkU38f1IL4EacLfgH1hbdymhy5tcV4cYibnZKzHjWUMBo6rijbd1YuBeu6hHy0rrbc/s200/IMG_4664.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prairie Camp Night #2</td></tr>
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The next morning I awoke as the sun was rising. I lay there, thinking. I stirred and Tiff woke too. The first thing I said was, "I want to stay on the trail." She was surprised, but said, "okay."<br />
We got up and broke camp and took very literally the Leave No Trace philosophy. We got back on the trail. I was motivated and felt strong. About an hour down the trail we met an older guy who was just as surprised to see us as we were to see him! He asked where we'd started and told us where he was headed. We wished each other well, and he said we were nearly there now. I think I took him too literally.<br />
The trail ran along the mountainsides. It went in and out. Because it was still early spring, we could usually see the trail across on the other side of the next mountain. It was SO far away always! The chasm between mountains was WIDE, the gap deep, and the hike into their creases and out back and over each mountain seemed so far- every time. It seemed to take extra long to get to Cripple Turkey!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1sDq37hxlVRu2y9ZNWxcmfQ075arI7UgsR_2vK-4lC1_BmADDmldLDfF5OWEW1ox1U0XMc3h1Tsw5Y4N8gRSsL_Jpg_BJFa_3jRM6DuJo-_h6lS-jUTLy8pnLQUz2JNDc63fxkDmJ08/s1600/IMG_20170811_025832076_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1sDq37hxlVRu2y9ZNWxcmfQ075arI7UgsR_2vK-4lC1_BmADDmldLDfF5OWEW1ox1U0XMc3h1Tsw5Y4N8gRSsL_Jpg_BJFa_3jRM6DuJo-_h6lS-jUTLy8pnLQUz2JNDc63fxkDmJ08/s200/IMG_20170811_025832076_HDR.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completely Thru-Hiked the NSCT</td></tr>
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But we finally arrived! We had thru-hiked the NSCT! 23.7 miles! Our first <b><i>true </i></b>through hike and two nights of camping! We cheered for ourselves and had lunch!<br />
We had no idea where the next water source would be, but we found it a half mile down the OHT. So, we stopped to filter water, because we needed it to drink that day. Rookie mistake. We should've pressed on to eat lunch at our next water source and filtered there, even not knowing where it could be.<br />
Filtering water at the creek was very enjoyable. We splashed our faces with the cool, clear water. A horse and his rider came out of nowhere to enjoy a drink as well! That was interesting!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGGbO2Erahdo0BcrtQLSoT_JT9_7hlCP6Kj1qr_WeIaGKKC27Au-n2xpu9B4ilwcfZIgICPoXXlOVQFz9prV2oe0T-PsGvI4Oq84wjZF1ndQoLfm55LFW-KRfz1cyXM6o56MwcCy7VYA/s1600/IMG_20170811_033426178_HDR+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGGbO2Erahdo0BcrtQLSoT_JT9_7hlCP6Kj1qr_WeIaGKKC27Au-n2xpu9B4ilwcfZIgICPoXXlOVQFz9prV2oe0T-PsGvI4Oq84wjZF1ndQoLfm55LFW-KRfz1cyXM6o56MwcCy7VYA/s200/IMG_20170811_033426178_HDR+-+Copy.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me filtering water</td></tr>
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The OHT was also a horse trail for part of the way and it was very muddy. We had to navigate carefully for awhile. It was a beautiful path, but strange too. There were many times that roads also merged with with the trail. We had a map (laminated and attached to my pack) but it was useless. There is not much information about this section of the OHT on the internet. But it was definitely obvious that we were on a completely different trail than the last one - mostly because we were going UP, UP, UP and OVER mountains instead of walking around them. It was hard work! We had no cell signal out there hardly ever. When we climbed the tallest mountain yet, we stopped to check and <b>signal!</b> Finally, we were able to let our families know that we were alive and FINE. They had been wondering...<br />
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Most of the OHT had been intentionally burnt on both sides of the trail. I knew that forest fires were important for the health of the forest because I'd been reading Johnny Molloy's books. But it still didn't look lovely after miles and miles of it. We were glad to spot any greenery! The trail was a rocky strip, single track with a slight angle to the right always. It was grueling at times. Those trekking poles were worth every cent!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNcKclt9u_LEkMwET2dlokrLfM4myZ4CUE8w70WTDt0peX8aIdsudgrKONGTGwo1wzz0MHxsXM2a6R6a2wVnkU_rPXhVkcPNYeAStC1BKNfPW9VMpcy8YgQZtijZrR4djdsypw0_wiFQ/s1600/IMG_20180325_093927198_HDR+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNcKclt9u_LEkMwET2dlokrLfM4myZ4CUE8w70WTDt0peX8aIdsudgrKONGTGwo1wzz0MHxsXM2a6R6a2wVnkU_rPXhVkcPNYeAStC1BKNfPW9VMpcy8YgQZtijZrR4djdsypw0_wiFQ/s200/IMG_20180325_093927198_HDR+-+Copy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bluff side Camp #3</td></tr>
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Again, we decided to start looking for camp about 5:30. We didn't find any worthwhile water sources, which was discouraging.<br />
We finally found the "best of a difficult situation" campsite on the side of a burnt bluff. The ash was thick and lumpy, making the entire area wobbly to navigate- even a few steps. With difficulty, we found large rocks to open our packs on, set up the tent, and got the cook stove started. We would inevitably end up covered in black soot. The wind was very strong and we knew it was going to be cooler that night. But the sky was finally clear! We were going to see the stars! Our camp was a strange place, but we were making the best of it, and it was quite the adventure!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOO8k_Jp1B2CJO44EL0_whAZxmm8at95utalfKFG21z9QSbZC8CXvWGn0P9vRFrJ7767yq4cD60hqHPFRJoeIqP9C3lTnjR47otAbMCGKU5_61VlKDVJODYUx4MFzPiNEdKg4TiOGBR_k/s1600/IMG_4685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOO8k_Jp1B2CJO44EL0_whAZxmm8at95utalfKFG21z9QSbZC8CXvWGn0P9vRFrJ7767yq4cD60hqHPFRJoeIqP9C3lTnjR47otAbMCGKU5_61VlKDVJODYUx4MFzPiNEdKg4TiOGBR_k/s200/IMG_4685.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking Station</td></tr>
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We hung our food bag, even though there seemed to be no obvious threat on this burnt ashen mountainside. As we slept, our tent apparently slid. The tent stakes hadn't really had secure options in the ash. We tried to shimmy it back up. I imagined us rolling off the bluff, in the tent, down the deep mountainside unable to stop. It was hard to fall back asleep with that thought. But eventually I did. We got up and ate our regular oatmeal and broke camp much more quickly this time. We'd improved a little! We started out, with the plan to go about six miles until the OHT crossed the Highway. If we found a water source, we could go on the next six miles then call Dad for a ride back.<br />
If we didn't find water, we weren't sure we could risk the commitment to stay on for those six extra miles. The views on this side of the trail were like none we'd seen so far. We could see for miles and miles when we reached mountaintops! The mountains were blue and stretched out forever. We had lunch atop a mountain. It took a mile or two to descend it. We tried to go slow. It seemed the road was closer than we wanted it to be. Since we hadn't seen water, we knew our trip was coming to an end. The trail was green again with beautiful rocks and switchbacks. We could still see for miles as we descended. Eventually, we reached the bottom of the mountain and the road crossing. Time to call Dad.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2Lo0nons7K5vAffYAEMs1mXGRx0wWsxF9BnpvNkGgA_qE4UG4jbXytjIfSUwPNUXbdUKmV-G1b1RiCeL-5km9NKAp_cwbM3HXMQQco9PLwNRTkaBEkSGRMj3U3H13bc7Y0dX0NveCH0/s1600/IMG_4792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2Lo0nons7K5vAffYAEMs1mXGRx0wWsxF9BnpvNkGgA_qE4UG4jbXytjIfSUwPNUXbdUKmV-G1b1RiCeL-5km9NKAp_cwbM3HXMQQco9PLwNRTkaBEkSGRMj3U3H13bc7Y0dX0NveCH0/s200/IMG_4792.JPG" width="112" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiD9tbsdxJVSUVnSsQtH2atu_dSlLHw696X3YW5IBgAcy0mO_F4FnlP7OsZyAlnzQbx0uax14KFhB7m9KAyknUvDGPnBIOUDJT0rDJxjA4RbzrggTqQ7k61yEfn8eDUAk2RNstjKle3Ik/s1600/IMG_20180325_140537971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiD9tbsdxJVSUVnSsQtH2atu_dSlLHw696X3YW5IBgAcy0mO_F4FnlP7OsZyAlnzQbx0uax14KFhB7m9KAyknUvDGPnBIOUDJT0rDJxjA4RbzrggTqQ7k61yEfn8eDUAk2RNstjKle3Ik/s200/IMG_20180325_140537971.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
<br />
We walked up the road to meet him after we called him. Even that was a first! We'd never carried our packs while walking along a highway! I felt like the real deal. We made a video while we waited. Dad arrived and we had a short ride back, where we spread out all of our gear to air out, ate the BEST TACOS AND FRIES OF OUR LIVES (thanks Mom!), packed back up and prepared to drive back to TN the next morning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjClnHJ3Yymj_hW-AWH8ZDQ-36gevMF2pYq7twOKdiMdTpIAqJf7dJaiNkPHk7ZHHHu4vUKXsG6b2RaYmykQNdXjmLeSd9NbCfmYB5bZACjChVGzknE9jnZrkULXC3qri6BV4WQu6ls_IU/s1600/IMG_20180325_135852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjClnHJ3Yymj_hW-AWH8ZDQ-36gevMF2pYq7twOKdiMdTpIAqJf7dJaiNkPHk7ZHHHu4vUKXsG6b2RaYmykQNdXjmLeSd9NbCfmYB5bZACjChVGzknE9jnZrkULXC3qri6BV4WQu6ls_IU/s400/IMG_20180325_135852.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">38.8 miles of backpacking Completed!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was a big accomplishment for us two gals who had just read about these things in books, and had very little prior experience (a few previous easy one-nighters). But we learned SO MUCH by just being out there. Concepts that you can't understand when you Pin them. Knowledge you may not find on blog posts, and videos that could never truly capture the reality of the terrain, or situations. We learned what we probably already knew: that we would never really know or understand the challenge or the reward until we GOT OUT THERE and DID IT!<br />
<br />jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-85817729964328524752018-04-13T10:36:00.000-07:002018-04-16T10:41:20.015-07:00To Drown<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friends don't bring me wine</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They know.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd drink myself</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to <b>Drown</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And do it again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I'd never lost a child before </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I've never known a hurt so deep</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No one stops by the liquor store</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">on their way-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or gives me pills.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would sabatoge</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Escape</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and stop eating</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to keep drinking</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to stop feeling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet I'd fill with regret</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and shame</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">wracked with guilt </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Compounding my grief</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and drink more to make it go away</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>This well </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>does not end </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>at any rock bottom</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>but death.</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cannot entertain </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a single thought on it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or I will begin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to <b>descend</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">upon my own</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">self-destruction.</span>jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-69481481125461948902018-04-04T14:23:00.000-07:002018-04-05T16:29:56.467-07:00Out-pour Poem Day One<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">The grief is so thick.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I can barely see through it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I can hardly move in it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">It catches my breath.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">And chokes me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">It threatens to engulf me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">In waves so powerful,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I want to let it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">That feels dangerous.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">My heart constricts,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">and bends and bleeds</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Not understanding</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">nonetheless believing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">what I don’t even want</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">to believe.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">God, why would you?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">God, how could you?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">You know that I will praise you through everything -</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">And still you allow this suffering.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Place Your hands on me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Guide me through this grief</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I cannot see past today</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Show me what</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">You know I don’t know-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">when I can know.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I trust You. I trust You. I say it and mean it. I trust You.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I understand nothing,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">but by faith,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">and prayers,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">by Your Hands</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I am held.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">So I understand something,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">and I understand nothing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">in a grief this thick.</span>jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-38624032671607772462018-04-04T04:00:00.000-07:002018-04-05T16:40:20.455-07:00Out-pour Poem Day Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitada_rcJ-eHjfdFQg-2suM67m-mnh1NmemeQDzLaQOfj0AK2F-92wHWxSTCW3AdlFoUCf4EfZCI2IDeRI-uk0hT-BFTj7piAnZ6EJREDZ03R0UbMJc3gbS4Mi0EG5ieDUMhouOOabiEk/s1600/IMG_4800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitada_rcJ-eHjfdFQg-2suM67m-mnh1NmemeQDzLaQOfj0AK2F-92wHWxSTCW3AdlFoUCf4EfZCI2IDeRI-uk0hT-BFTj7piAnZ6EJREDZ03R0UbMJc3gbS4Mi0EG5ieDUMhouOOabiEk/s1600/IMG_4800.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-71818129768533814372018-04-03T23:30:00.000-07:002018-04-15T06:53:19.624-07:00The new reality:44 days<br />
That's how long I've spent adjusting to my new reality: pregnant.<br />
Another child.<br />
Really, God? Wow. At the age of 41, nonetheless.<br />
I was confused for sure, but soon this sweet new secret of Life, Joy, and Love began to glow within me.<br />
We waited until the 8 week ultrasound (to see the heart beat) before we told family.<br />
Of course, sweet Brielle was ecstatic- and in shock.<br />
She began making plans. And an announcement sign.<br />
We all began to imagine our new reality, talked about it, dreaming.<br />
Life with a baby! Now? Our plans continued as normal, but with an anticipation, expectation.<br />
<br />
My midwife scheduled an ultrasound for eleven weeks. She never said "high risk" but rather, "Advanced Maternal Age." I scoffed. I maybe was a little coy. I'm healthier now than I've ever been in my entire life. I've always been fertile and had three healthy pregnancies. No wonder I was pregnant again.<br />
I know I'd thought of it a few times since learning of the pregnancy...<br />
But I was not thinking about it at all when the ultrasound began.<br />
I had brought Brielle! She was giddy.<br />
Tiffany was there with us too. We were going to see the baby!<br />
Except we didn't.<br />
The nightmare slowly unfolded in a surreal sort of why.<br />
I can't even explain what I was thinking or feeling. I hugged Brielle. I felt SO bad.<br />
I did not see this coming. No heartbeat.<br />
We went over to the Midwives' Clinic, where they took us to private room.<br />
I called Will, crying.<br />
He couldn't understand what I was saying through my sobs.<br />
He had not seen this coming.<br />
The midwife and intern came in to speak with me. They believed the baby had stopped growing somewhere around nine weeks gestation.<br />
They asked if they could pray for me, for us.<br />
Yes. Yes, absolutely.<br />
I bawled.<br />
And I didn't stop crying for three days.<br />
Or maybe four. Today is day four. I've cried a little less today. Allowing myself time to think and process life now.<br />
I won't be delivering a baby in October.<br />
I won't be pregnant through summer.<br />
So...what then? I can give blood. I can drink coffee. I can train for and run that Marathon I'd signed up for (last year) in August. I can backpack in the Fall.<br />
All meaningless.<br />
All completely meaningless.<br />
I wanted the baby. I wanted my child. I wanted to feel her kick in my womb. I wanted to birth her into my arms, and nurse her in the silence of the night. I wanted to cloth diaper her bum and wrap her to me for Brielle's soccer games. I wanted to listen to Brielle <i>SING </i>to her. I wanted to smell her fresh baby scent. I wanted to run with her in one of those jogging stroller contraptions, hike mountains with her on my back - and show her <b><i>everything I love</i></b> -<i> and all I've learned in my life</i><b><i>.</i> </b><br />
<br />
Will, Brielle (even Josh & Tyler, though they don't live at home any longer), we all wanted her.<br />
<br />
4 days.<br />
That's how long I've had to adjust to my new reality.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-86102507598642662432018-04-03T05:30:00.000-07:002018-04-05T16:41:14.387-07:00Out-pour Poem#2 Day Three <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>today i am stripped of all pride, all dignity</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i must to cling to Your promises and Your words</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>that speak the truth about me</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i am exposed and today i do not care</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>what does it matter?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i would have given it all up, like You asked me to</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i was willing and You knew it!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I was, and still am, willing to do whatever You ask of me.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>That damn nacre.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i can grow hard, even in loving you</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>or i can heal</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>while You protect me</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>and grieve with me.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>today i shed all pretenses of what i thought i knew</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>when I was shaken and suffering </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>You reached in and rescued me</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>You saved my <b>life</b>. <b>To bring me here.</b> To give me <b>joy</b>. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><b>To overflow my cup of life abundantly.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><u>Even knowing</u> my heart would sacrifice to this outcome-</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>and <b>You knew the pain it would bring me</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>how it would come close to consume me</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>and how I would question and wrestle the nonsense of it all</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Still- You also knew I would know better</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>than to be tempted to submit to anything other than You.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>By now, I know.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Nothing else will satisfy. No drink. No food. No drug.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Not one person can hold me. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>You always do.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I am leaning in. I am listening. I am waiting.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I am searching and groping in the dark.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I am desperate. I care so much less about everything unimportant.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I care so much less about what they'll say or think</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>If they'll balk or gasp, or whisper, or feel so sorry for me</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Or if they'll even care. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i am stripped of all pride, of all dignity</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>what You God - what you alone SAY- stands </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>in the chasm of this pain</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>and I believe You will not waste this.</i></span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-28575417841671690442018-04-02T14:35:00.000-07:002018-04-05T16:36:57.817-07:00Out-pour Poem Day Three<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Today is raw. It is fresh like an open wound that hasn't even been assessed yet. Bone and marrow are exposed. I cannot see it, but I know it is there. I am wretched with a grief I've never known and do not understand. I know that I am not alone. Others have felt this before and someone may feel this one day. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>When in the deep, deep parts of this kind of grief it is like moving blindly, uncertainly, painfully. Feeling around, grasping for breaths, choked between torrents of tears.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Ask Why.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Reverberating silence will follow.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>There are no answers here. </i></span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-87491642231258385522018-03-29T14:42:00.000-07:002018-04-05T16:54:27.459-07:00Out-pour Poem Day Four<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today all I can do is crawl up into Your lap and rest</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am tired, so tired</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Your arms are wide, strong,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">but they wrap me gently and securely</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You are clean and pure</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Everything I am not</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But with You I feel new</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">like fresh mountain air</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I feel known</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And seen</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And heard</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">even though I have no words today</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am sad, so sad</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Your hand moves over my hair</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In a sweet caress</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I can rest here</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Indefinitely</span></span>jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-87307050986627529552018-03-29T13:39:00.000-07:002018-04-05T16:31:29.952-07:00When I learned to grieve<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfXjbFiwZk2yefkzPA6D9FcA69n5DXoy-mMEHIkZRoa0xSVepJXBxrafylkmbI-gopsk_wHt6H7rFCqsDQVPW62NjucdyVCpAI86gDegJuB0K_rJqH4AgcGp06iQ6wxKdjqotTIeXVm5k/s1600/IMG_2168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfXjbFiwZk2yefkzPA6D9FcA69n5DXoy-mMEHIkZRoa0xSVepJXBxrafylkmbI-gopsk_wHt6H7rFCqsDQVPW62NjucdyVCpAI86gDegJuB0K_rJqH4AgcGp06iQ6wxKdjqotTIeXVm5k/s200/IMG_2168.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we began preparing to move last October, and all of the sorting and packing got real - I found myself grieving. I grieved off and on for about a week.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I recalled all of the memories we'd made in that home. All of the seasons of life. Little boys and legos, Christmases, birthdays, game nights, tears and bandages, bike rides, play fights, bringing Brielle home, neighbors, street ball, and even the growing pains. We'd moved in when they were five and two and had lived there over sixteen years.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It wasn't the home or neighborhood I grieved (though I did love them both). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I knew they were just places.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tp4TzQobnSYcNsvxbY6x_RyYrnU58Q44M28kUYoFkomXRx33QPloFo2cfrXSRTsA9_ujOU9qsksHjla6wXbKjAlP7ALvp6AVHIvWStUy3OM-GR2pJUiewEJL1VzWqjmTvZKPsNosArg/s1600/us+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tp4TzQobnSYcNsvxbY6x_RyYrnU58Q44M28kUYoFkomXRx33QPloFo2cfrXSRTsA9_ujOU9qsksHjla6wXbKjAlP7ALvp6AVHIvWStUy3OM-GR2pJUiewEJL1VzWqjmTvZKPsNosArg/s200/us+4.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was the season of life I grieved. It was over. We'd raised our boys. They'd both moved out in the past year. We'd had eighteen full years with each of them. And it had come to a close.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I knew all of the things: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> - they were<i> supposed</i> to launch</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> - there's a <b>new season</b> on the horizon</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> - at least we still have Brielle at home</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me say this - I knew I needed to grieve. I don't know how I knew, but I did. It was important in the process of my moving on. I did not get stuck there. But I did allow myself to <i><b>FEEL </b></i>it.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimagwWvS5g2y30HbT3a6y0Ku53LhQOEm_3jz3n3E1naiGwPD-aXDEHcsuQKioS1aSaWUCAg0ysir0ZMwvpAaPLxNcYjcEirRoQ2PfmbclRdIpmvvTNEc8NhuPjaFzHK7GpzAmeEcZJJE4/s1600/DSC02381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimagwWvS5g2y30HbT3a6y0Ku53LhQOEm_3jz3n3E1naiGwPD-aXDEHcsuQKioS1aSaWUCAg0ysir0ZMwvpAaPLxNcYjcEirRoQ2PfmbclRdIpmvvTNEc8NhuPjaFzHK7GpzAmeEcZJJE4/s200/DSC02381.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">And for someone who feels deeply <i>(and was once very skilled at escaping anything that hinted of unpleasant)</i> this was a scary place to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, I asked God to help me process and walk through it - believing there was another side that brought me out, through faith, to a new viewpoint. And He did. He said, "Mourn Beloved. You loved them deeply, dearly, and sacrificed for their lives. You will move on to the other side and love them still."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And He showed me that He loved them so much more than I did. He gently taught me to trust them into His care in a newer and deeper way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt alone in my thoughts and feelings, so I didn't share them much. But God held me right through it all. I'm so glad I learned this about grieving then. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Recently, my bible app study explained it like this: </span><br />
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<br />jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-42582359025488634662017-07-24T15:14:00.000-07:002017-07-24T20:30:35.550-07:00Arkansas Adventure<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is hot in July in Arkansas -and I absolutely love it. There are rivers and lakes and mountains and streams that flow to and from them. One of those rivers remains in the condition it was created. In 1972 the Buffalo River was designated the Nation’s first ever National River, keeping it protected from any developments. Apparently, some people had wanted to dam the river (which did happen to nearby rivers) and others did not support the idea. So they fought and won. Ever since then many people have been able to enjoy this protected river - as a result of their efforts.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3sZCXAb9dVYHVwI3vOvR44Aq1VCJrVYYCa40x4PFWiahqClCTW7nkHDTREOXHSqhTSwmTHz6DiUDndfsJcqzXklvcWZQIqF573kz6gqRNNTsOi_lcR_XyWMu6y1u-a3aeEVwiGn583Yg/s1600/IMG_1422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3sZCXAb9dVYHVwI3vOvR44Aq1VCJrVYYCa40x4PFWiahqClCTW7nkHDTREOXHSqhTSwmTHz6DiUDndfsJcqzXklvcWZQIqF573kz6gqRNNTsOi_lcR_XyWMu6y1u-a3aeEVwiGn583Yg/s320/IMG_1422.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tiffany and I began at Buffalo Point Wilderness Campground. When we arrived, we chose a seemingly level campsite, but with a great view, looking out to the bluffs on the other side over the Buffalo River. We quick-pitched the tent then repelled (backwards) twenty feet down the side of the sandy river bank while holding on (with everything I had) to an exposed tree root. I thought I was going to flop and roll, but somehow managed. Already an adventure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The water was so cool, calm, and clear. Sweet Buffalo River. I dove my whole self right into her, then floated on my back looking up at the towering bluffs and ridges. The clear blue sky. The puffy white clouds. The soft current. So perfectly perfect.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We ascended further down the embankment on a less steep slope, thank goodness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We got our water hydration packs on and set out to hike the Campground Trail, which we had just learned was there (thanks to the map on a wooden board). It led (apparently) to the Overlook Trail, which sounded promising. I looooved this trail. We had a stick to clear out spiderwebs because there were just tons of </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">them, but<b> the way</b> the trail went from stone steps- to mulch- to grass- then to flat rock - was just amazing and alive. <i> It <b>felt </b>of Arkansas</i>.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzAx2KFxuQ4-68RvlINEmHGOAyZLo3W2oC8uNJdreVGKd0YS5M18tDHeul4JHY5KYXvzRFPqSnIw0-A8UIYdKFKVdmRcg1PHQL42RbqQh7PK8-5rmpqNDZV6R418VU7hUyVrGSFIEbrfw/s1600/IMG_1445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzAx2KFxuQ4-68RvlINEmHGOAyZLo3W2oC8uNJdreVGKd0YS5M18tDHeul4JHY5KYXvzRFPqSnIw0-A8UIYdKFKVdmRcg1PHQL42RbqQh7PK8-5rmpqNDZV6R418VU7hUyVrGSFIEbrfw/s320/IMG_1445.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The “overlook“ was a rock balcony overlooking the river. It was breathtaking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After pausing to enjoy it, we continued on up the trail to where it crossed the road and the Indian Rockhouse Trailhead began. We knew we didn’t have time to hike that whole trail before the sun set, so we just hiked to the waterfall (on the map) and back down to the Campground Trail. We showered, made a fire, ate soup, and fell asleep in the tent to the sound of the very loud insects.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The next morning we got up and packed up camp and took our sweet time. Which was lovely...but we knew this could cost us later in the day, due to our schedule. We laid out all of our gear, clothes, and food in the parking lot and carefully determined which items were worthy of carrying in our packs through the long trail. Then we drove back up the mountain and parked at the Indian Rockhouse Trailhead, ready to complete it’s full 3.5 miles this time. The Indian Rockhouse was just about the coolest natural structure I’ve ever seen. No one was there at this time and we seemed very small in its capacity. Ancient people had gathered there, held ceremonies, and just respected it well - which was something so incredible- and I wanted to absorb it. I just wanted to be still and <i>feel </i>the memories the Rock House held.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoea1ZzX7kjw2hasvRUt7B23-xwx3It2f8AwBlfpqduCveQhcvjEUw0kyj9LOXUR1PIcKILcnliKH3Gc_vEGA8-JrwIWBfie4cFVqc7U6wsLTxFyuLk5M8WJ5b1_mkn_s7GX2X8Ek5DZ8/s1600/IMG_1481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoea1ZzX7kjw2hasvRUt7B23-xwx3It2f8AwBlfpqduCveQhcvjEUw0kyj9LOXUR1PIcKILcnliKH3Gc_vEGA8-JrwIWBfie4cFVqc7U6wsLTxFyuLk5M8WJ5b1_mkn_s7GX2X8Ek5DZ8/s320/IMG_1481.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Indian Rockhouse</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We headed back out to finish the loop and saw a natural bathtub right off the trail. Tiffany almost convinced me we should make the time to sit in it, but we sufficed for splashing our faces in the fresh stream that crossed the trail a ways up, where the deer kept eyes on us. After we got off that trail, we drove to the Buffalo Point Ranger Station. We let them know where we were going, for how long, and that our car would be at Dillard’s Ferry (aka Hwy 14 Bridge, aka 14, aka The Bridge) for two days. We gave emergency contact info. It was already afternoon and the lady was surprised that we were about to set out just now to hike the 6.1 trail (plus the mile that leads down the road to Spring Creek Primitive Campground after the trail ends). She said the trail should be mostly empty, </span><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">as most people don’t hike it this time of year</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, due to heat, chiggers, and other nuisance insects. We stopped by Wild Bill’s Outfitters and paid our fees for bug spray with deet, much to our dismay.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QiXZ2j7N9O0dZItDdMB6g0lHPIanN0H9S80p18A5AIPvr_xwGYe_wNh1rvdBVGu2YcO6zc-e98BeyWt_BPYTSaI-WZT2S9U1s4fNnIIWupbHIQ3ge79KKlhgNQymlXu3FTg2vI-RlJ4/s1600/4E79ABFD-1F9B-4409-8104-D0C05E0A5B9D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QiXZ2j7N9O0dZItDdMB6g0lHPIanN0H9S80p18A5AIPvr_xwGYe_wNh1rvdBVGu2YcO6zc-e98BeyWt_BPYTSaI-WZT2S9U1s4fNnIIWupbHIQ3ge79KKlhgNQymlXu3FTg2vI-RlJ4/s320/4E79ABFD-1F9B-4409-8104-D0C05E0A5B9D.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think we actually got on the BRT (Buffalo River Trail) around 2:30pm. Which was fine. Except the trail looked like a road for a little while, and then broke off into the woods (I did see that, but didn’t realize it was the trail), and so we continued on the road about .5 miles out of the way, and when we realized this, had to turn around and retrace our steps. We did this mostly in silence. Our packs were heavy, the sun hot, and we had wasted precious time hiking an extra mile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We felt relief about half a mile into the woods. The trail was beautiful and we began to feel its natural pull as it moved us along and eventually we began to ascend it’s mountain. Up, up, up. For two miles we went up! At times we could look over to our right side and see down the side of the mountain as it dropped a good fifty feet in places. Our heavy packs were strapped to us tight. One slip/fall could result in some very serious complications. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Near the end of the ascent, and around mile two (we think), we began to see clearings off to our right, views that flew out beyond the ridges and river canyon. Mountains beyond the mountains. We kept pausing every forty feet or so, it was so spectacular, these small sightings through the lush summer foliage. When we reached a clearing with a nice flat rock jutting out the side of the mountain, we dropped our packs and ate our snack/dinner. It was <i>exhilarating </i>sitting up that high. 950 feet we estimated. We could see kayaks and canoes floating lazily by, so deep below us. Had they just put in? This late in the day? We could hear them talking, and they had no idea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After trying (again) to capture the landscape though a small lens, but knowing our eyes could really only receive this beauty directly, we set back off. Up a little further was a larger clearing with a fire-pit in the direct sun. It must be the Lookout marked on the map. We paused briefly, but kept going. Into and around the mountain this time. The terrain changed once again. The sun was behind the mountain and we were in the shade. Then the rocks rose up large and the trail became marked with stone steps placed by people, markers that let us know we were still on it. We marched into the low elbow creases of the mountain, then back out, up and around, and then again through the next one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then the forest, and the trail itself, became lush with green. Two miles of lush, thick grass. Chiggers. I knew they’d be relentless, no matter how much deet we applied. Then the trail turned weird around mile four. It was like a tractor had come in to clear it out and left all of the debris lying in its wake, which really looked like a Trail Tornado. We came to a large tree lying directly across the trail, and we couldn’t see around it at all. Tiffany was certain that the trail was on the other side of it, but we had no way of knowing unless we climbed up and around it, which was no easy task, and certainly woke up ALL of the chiggers in the deep woods. Sure enough, when we’d climbed to other side there was the Trail Tornado, still ripped and splintered and leading us onward. We climbed up, up, and up. The trail was wide, but surprisingly still held many spider webs. I should mention that we were never on any portion of the trail without the lead person donning a “spidey stick” (a long stick with many branches protruding at the end to catch and wrap up the spider’s web). They definitely helped, but their webs still managed to reach us, sometimes full ones by surprise, other times they’d just float back, or the stick would fill up and we’d have to replace it with a new stick. This was certainly a sport in itself.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5246v-Yt_9Tcdc0KW3TFaA7KjXoY5ZdNI3-AqBlBt6HRqYSsBdm3KGCGiZwV-mBMh7BHgGiywxgPx6SviA56OqfHNm-Mbf6iWIpi5kufMTmxGOjC02AtJOktTTRoFlKjjKLhsSt-jbDM/s1600/IMG_20170710_174420425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5246v-Yt_9Tcdc0KW3TFaA7KjXoY5ZdNI3-AqBlBt6HRqYSsBdm3KGCGiZwV-mBMh7BHgGiywxgPx6SviA56OqfHNm-Mbf6iWIpi5kufMTmxGOjC02AtJOktTTRoFlKjjKLhsSt-jbDM/s320/IMG_20170710_174420425.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By this time, we have no more “life” conversations left to cover between the two of us. We’ve discussed and caught up with each other's lives and now we just share this adventure, speaking only of the trek, the location of the sun, how we’re doing on water, food, and energy. We’re holding up well. I can feel the blisters forming on my feet, but I don’t mention it. The sun always looks high in the sky when we climb a ridge and get sight of it. Near mile five, Tiffany is leading and turns around to inquire, “if we get to this campground (Spring Creek) would there be a good chance we can get into the water?” I assure her there is an excellent chance. We’ve been high above the Buffalo River this entire trail, but the campground is a river access, so yes. She confidently proclaims that she thinks we can reach it before nightfall. We know we’ve got a mile to get to the road and then another mile down to the river. So we press on. We are dirty and grimy and sweaty and reaching water motivates our steps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We come out onto the road as dusk begins on the white gravel and Tiffany cheers We Made It! </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’m walking quickly -we still have another mile to get down this road before it gets dark and I really want to assess the campground in some kind of daylight. I’m toting a lot less water. I’ve drank almost 3L. When we reach Spring Creek we quickly explore. There are two vehicles in the parking lot, one bathroom, no running water, and a weird clearing up on the right beyond the parking lot. We head left to the river. There is a campsite very close to the river with great big trees to hang our hammocks from. The floor is packed with moist river sand in every direction and big, tall trees that go on forever down the west bank. We drop our packs on the picnic table and hang our hammocks. The fireflies are curious of us and come close to investigate these strangers to their river land. Their lights are a lucid blueish-green as they glow along the river’s edge in a magical dance where dusk meets night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tiffany grabs her environmentally-friendly soap and flies to the river. She must have. Because one moment I was talking to her about it and the next I hear her splashing and exclaiming in the river! I laugh and head down our little embankment to clean up too. We are the only ones here. This part of the river has a steady current and I can’t fully get in, as it barely comes to my knees. I try to get as wet as possible, but when I try to sit I get carried by the strong current. So we just splash ourselves, pass the soap, and laugh at our river-washing antics. I put my whole head in and almost fall over twice, but it felt so good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We drip dry by the fire, and eat dinner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometime before ten (we think- as we kept our phones off most of the time to preserve battery life) we hear the cars coming to collect the other cars. Spring Creek Road is the only road we can hear cars coming from, and we hear them for a long time before they appear. There are no other noises, lights, or sounds out here. We walk to the river again to look up at the stars, uninhibited by anything but the moon’s glow. They are brilliantly bright. I want to stare at them all night. But I am so tired. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Into the hammocks. Right to sleep like a baby. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For about twenty minutes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then a loud BAM! SCREECH! And I reach over and grab my pepper spray and ready it for attack!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tiffany shines a light to where the noise came from at our picnic table. I think that’s a crazy idea! Now they’ll know where we are!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's a pesky raccoon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She runs it off and I fall back asleep, but it’s a relentless scrounger who sees real opportunity here. After he gets into her pack and tries to drag it off twice, we hang both packs on the pole and bid him adieu.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sleep, sweet sleep. River running. Swinging in the hammock. Drifting...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometime in the really early morning I awoke and thought I heard someone walking up river. My only thought was, “Why is someone walking in the river in the middle of the night?” I went right back to sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When dawn broke we slowly came to in our mist-filled enchanted forest. We look over at each other in amazement. We really slept here! Here! In the midst of the deep heart of the Lower Buffalo River, right along its glory. We remember where we are and what we’ve done and it seems like a dream we wake into.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDedrTkvWuj6-HoSzH0JYseH5vgSZoqk8fib5XIB8TZ1MUlWAN_puT_pxHKgeaaYvBxpvkb6pZNfwLGEnQDrObLkr8wKiP1749LfjzGqAKbaFoogqCSrpNjSMUuvvWA3l5Ox9_rmPIWA/s1600/IMG_1502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDedrTkvWuj6-HoSzH0JYseH5vgSZoqk8fib5XIB8TZ1MUlWAN_puT_pxHKgeaaYvBxpvkb6pZNfwLGEnQDrObLkr8wKiP1749LfjzGqAKbaFoogqCSrpNjSMUuvvWA3l5Ox9_rmPIWA/s320/IMG_1502.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hammock Camping</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We determine that it had been a bear walking upstream in the middle of the night, as Tiffany had observed it with much more clarity than I could have mustered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Two kayakers arrive and ready themselves to put in the river. We lounge in our hammocks, unnoticed. I think of asking them for water, but I hate to ask anyone for anything, and I feel foolishly embarrassed for not bringing enough water on such a long trek, so I just run through it in my head. After they leave, we get up for breakfast. I have one water bottle left. I’ll need to go boil water for my oatmeal and tea. I hear a vehicle. Five minutes later it appears and it’s a park ranger. What luck! I’ll just go explain my situation to him/her and maybe get some extra water for the hike back! But as I walk from the river to the road, the truck turns around and heads right back out of the campground! Nooooo! I run toward the clearing and wave my arms! Hey! Hey! Over here! </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nothing. It felt like I was in a movie. On an island. Parched and dying. Almost rescued. Almost.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I return, empty-handed. The reality of the situation, and the weight of my unpreparedness and inability to provide for my own self becomes very apparent. I cry a little. I try to explain this to Tiffany. I think she’s trying not to laugh at me, as she remains quietly busy. I need a moment, I say, and walk away to take a break. I find a line to hang our wet clothes on in the sun. She assures me again that we have the LifeStraw and a fire to boil water with. We won’t die. This is true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Less than an hour goes by and trucks arrive with floaters, canoes, kayaks, and one giant raft. I stalk the situation. Everything comes off the trailers except one canoe. I see the guy packing up to leave and race to the road to intercede. I explain my situation to this guy who doesn’t seem to think I’m too crazy, but just wants to know, “what do you need lady?” I need water. “Do you want to hike or float back to 14?” Float? Why, <b>YES</b>, good idea! But I have no money, no ID, no debit card, and a dead battery in my cell phone. He puts my info into his phone, hands me a portable charger for my phone, leaves the extra canoe, and says he’ll be back. The floaters (women and children) are left there along the river bank to wait for him to bring back their men. I think of asking them to borrow their sunscreen because I know how easy it is to burn on the river. I compare myself to the scrounging raccoon.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPPvIAByQt37x3oeHzhb8TAZgCjC25UQGnMvt_rP86ohRUEeeCWhC_IClsDlF4j2gv5O_QLzyrIJneSi3hknrNy_qEH5uCg2KeJ8KK6T-1MTS3wcrau0vziXie2-1BvS2mKVr_ozfIIA/s1600/IMG_1504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When canoe guy shows back up he puts the party of twenty-five into the river to float and returns to settle matters with us. He tells us it’s a short 4.5 mile float back to 14 and recommends stopping at a creek on the left after the black bluff to hike up to explore a bit. I ask him about the water bottles he offered earlier. He says, “Oh no….the price on that is jacked now!” He laughs and brings us down three ice cold Life Waters and two Gatorades. We agree to go to the his store after the float and sign the canoe rental contract. It’s out of the way and we’ll have to drive a different route home, but it’s such a minor inconvenience in light of what we’re about to get to do!</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPPvIAByQt37x3oeHzhb8TAZgCjC25UQGnMvt_rP86ohRUEeeCWhC_IClsDlF4j2gv5O_QLzyrIJneSi3hknrNy_qEH5uCg2KeJ8KK6T-1MTS3wcrau0vziXie2-1BvS2mKVr_ozfIIA/s1600/IMG_1504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPPvIAByQt37x3oeHzhb8TAZgCjC25UQGnMvt_rP86ohRUEeeCWhC_IClsDlF4j2gv5O_QLzyrIJneSi3hknrNy_qEH5uCg2KeJ8KK6T-1MTS3wcrau0vziXie2-1BvS2mKVr_ozfIIA/s320/IMG_1504.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We get our big packs ready and secure them under the wooden bars that cross the canoe’s middle. We don’t have a waterproof anything, but Tiffany has a small thick plastic drawstring bag that we put our phones into in case water gets splashed into the canoe. We leave no trace at the campsite and put into the river. It’s a perfect day to float. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We cannot believe we are on the Buffalo! We dip our hats into it and put them on our heads to stay cool. We can see fifteen feet straight to the bottom. Huge rocks! Enormous fish! We look up to the right and see the ridge-line and mountain Look Out point and can hardly believe we were up that high the day before! We were there! Way up there! Now we’re floating below and it’s incredible! </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJmpAl3DEqUXrWVJevejYCo9oz8omcdQMDnwtEuG3IAgidGAgMO9hyA-lEizAiFxtyso8kri27jKL8APPhIk9ncOW4jYUgBLTf7cAYWGTS9JZCQnWbdqQjfWIQEbbbEPbPSgIeSfMomU/s1600/IMG_20170711_140826206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJmpAl3DEqUXrWVJevejYCo9oz8omcdQMDnwtEuG3IAgidGAgMO9hyA-lEizAiFxtyso8kri27jKL8APPhIk9ncOW4jYUgBLTf7cAYWGTS9JZCQnWbdqQjfWIQEbbbEPbPSgIeSfMomU/s400/IMG_20170711_140826206.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She’s in front and I in back, we have never canoed together before, and neither of us has had much recent experience. But it’s the Buffalo and it just calmly carries a vessel, requiring very little effort from its visitors. We float on the dream, amazed at the creation of this pristine wonder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We stopped and swam, had lunch in the shade, and took our sweet time, knowing this was such a different day than we had expected it to be.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1gbEjnW1-TdIZICIZD1HjlD3jzG2XrF2ytHkpipJTb77eWQy_xXOzxb45F1zuL1Gu-TTvtJeUWKj_LQf5mghMjgNejyYpAC9nbySvxiugocPBKXAjMuai3PJnuB0jONv7A3aF1Es_T0/s1600/IMG_20170711_141126518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1gbEjnW1-TdIZICIZD1HjlD3jzG2XrF2ytHkpipJTb77eWQy_xXOzxb45F1zuL1Gu-TTvtJeUWKj_LQf5mghMjgNejyYpAC9nbySvxiugocPBKXAjMuai3PJnuB0jONv7A3aF1Es_T0/s400/IMG_20170711_141126518.jpg" width="225" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We almost missed the creek our travel adviser had described. We had to paddle a little back upstream to it, as it apparently it hadn’t really looked like much to stop at, but we had time, so we banked our canoe again and hiked up the creek. It was beautiful there. I sat right in the creek bed and then laid back into it. It was less than a foot deep and the running water gave it a remote natural spa experience. Literally. I relaxed and did not float away and the water poured all around me and flowed underneath me as I looked up at the trees swaying in the breeze on the rocky hillside. The little fish came and nibbled at my legs. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1gbEjnW1-TdIZICIZD1HjlD3jzG2XrF2ytHkpipJTb77eWQy_xXOzxb45F1zuL1Gu-TTvtJeUWKj_LQf5mghMjgNejyYpAC9nbySvxiugocPBKXAjMuai3PJnuB0jONv7A3aF1Es_T0/s1600/IMG_20170711_141126518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was certainly in Heaven and could not move. All of me relaxed into all of this creation. Tiffany must've thought the idea <b>good</b> and came and joined me. We closed our eyes and stayed there for a long time. We didn’t talk, but knew- <i>this was sanctuary</i>. A real life moment treasure of Heaven on Earth, the kind that has no price, but that brings the things of dreams -of serenity, peace, and delight colliding with present reality. An Oasis of Time and Treasure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We walk back to the canoe and head down the river for the last mile and a half. We share a smile, contented beyond words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As we round the next bend I see a kayaker ahead paddling into more rapid waters. I mention this to Tiffany and as we approach we realize that we should have started paddling before reaching this area...like away from the tree that is in the middle of the river. The current picks up and dips down right next to the tree and that is exactly where we are headed. We both see this happening and try to steer away, but it is too late and we are heading right to the tree as our canoe dips and sides up next to it. We both believe it’s going to bump into the long tree trunk and right itself into the current and it might have. Except we both leaned to the right to avoid hitting our heads on the protruding branches and limbs. And in slow motion, over goes the canoe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My right knee goes down into the rocks as the canoe pushes over us as we try to stand and balance ourselves. The water is only waist deep, thank goodness, as we heave the water-filled canoe back over. I look around and assess what’s floating. Towel. Bottle. Sleeping bag. Paddle. Paddles! Grab the paddles I tell Tiffany! She does and throws them into the canoe. I have no idea where I learned this but I once heard that if you lose your paddles you’ve lost the possibility of retrieving anything. We haul the canoe to the opposite bank and flip it over. The packs never budged. They were wedged tightly under the bars with the life vests under them. Our phones though! They were in the plastic bag set under the rim of Tiffany’s backpack cover, but they weren’t IN anything or secured to anything! Tiffany looks for it and it’s not there. The phones are gone. They either sank shortly after falling out or floated a ways down, then sank, or who knows. We never tested its floatiness…. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There’s nothing to do but put back into the river and float. We can attempt to retrieve some of our debris. What else was in that bag though? <i> OH Noooooo..</i>the car keys! I had put them in there because of the lock clicker! Oh good grief. Now we have no way to get into the car and no phone to call anyone to tell them about it when we get back to The Bridge. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The weight of this is heavy as we humbly realize that we are still on this side of Heaven. The fallen Earth side.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We keep floating and pick up a flip flop. Then the sleeping bag, which is so heavy I have to lean to the right for Tiffany to heave it in on the left. It drains slowly. What are we going to do? Tiffany offers that we could paddle back upstream and look for the bag. I don’t think that would materialize. Another flip flop. We sit with it: the weight of the several things we could have done differently. Maybe my phone had backed up our photos to google cloud on that one brief connection I had. Maybe all of our trip photos are lost. Tiffany says the memories are better anyway. I agree. She looks back at me. It’s just stuff, I say. I don’t know how to explain it. But we’re still on the river. It’s still a beautiful day, and we have had the most amazing adventure! Phones. Keys. Pictures. It’s all just convenience. Nothing can steal the true joy from this trip. And we agree that we’ll not be ending it like that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When we reach the end, we bank our canoe and Tiffany exclaims We Made It! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We begin to haul our packs out and prepare for the long wait to get in contact with someone who can come get us into the car. We talk about laying out the wet items to dry for the duration. I find my lost shirt stuffed under the packs and as Tiffany moves her pack, there is the plastic bag with the phones and key still inside. Damp, but all intact. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our jaws must’ve dropped to the river rocks. Our eyes bulged. <i>Whaaaaaaaat?</i> Was all I could say! What? Whaaaaat? What? I didn’t know any other words apparently. Finally, Tiffany takes out my key, which I’d strategically strapped to a blue bungee cord (for obvious unknown reasons) and presents it to me and says, “Here’s your KEY!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We take one last picture with her phone, throw our packs back on one last time and trek to the car, pop open the trunk, and proceed to drive the scenic route back. We stopped at Crockett’s Country Store in Harriet to sign the canoe rental contract, and thus complete the end of the adventure….</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwejgaRY9ibDLQt_NCmW93yJj2pGRkyHL5Sg6pZmssYfIA4TszmDQ6Z_RzV9zoNBn3lFCdY3Dl9qnZY1LXD7FWhyRxJdz4SpadD4yEuCrT59iXOwVTgpejrpiybEElz7HCff6-4bUDWA/s1600/IMG_20170711_162941526_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwejgaRY9ibDLQt_NCmW93yJj2pGRkyHL5Sg6pZmssYfIA4TszmDQ6Z_RzV9zoNBn3lFCdY3Dl9qnZY1LXD7FWhyRxJdz4SpadD4yEuCrT59iXOwVTgpejrpiybEElz7HCff6-4bUDWA/s640/IMG_20170711_162941526_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">...except for when we pulled over at a scenic overlook pass where we could see the expanse of mountains flow on and on - nearly in every direction except behind us on the road. We had no words, but knew SO deeply that the Creator of all we could see here, dwells here <i>-and everywhere</i> -and gives <b>good </b>gifts, in <b>great </b>abundance--<b><i>and we received them</i></b>, and overflow with joy to tell of them.</span>jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-7310782577409059232015-10-07T12:10:00.000-07:002020-04-10T08:34:05.216-07:0020 Years Together<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I shouldn't be writing this. Statistically, we
shouldn't still be married. That's what the guest preacher shared to the
congregation at my home church that Sunday night in 1995. Still, I sat
there: pregnant, 18 years old, and unable to <i>clearly </i>see another
path. We had wanted to <i>marry anyway...</i> but don't most young
pregnant couples say that? <i>We barely knew each other. </i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">"In those days" no one had cell phones.
No one had the internet in their home. Long distance calls were very
expensive. Gas and cigarettes were the only cheap things and we lived 330
miles apart. What we did know of each other was from a few visits, letters
(the kind that are written on paper, stamped, mailed and which took three days
to arrive), and long distance phone calls every few weeks from community
phones. And our relationship progressed just over seven <b>short </b>months of
time (two of which we did not speak). Yeah.........</span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">People still ask how we met. A city boy from New
Jersey and a country girl from North Central Arkansas? Well... I
had a close neighbor/school friend who went to live with her grandparents our
Junior year of high school. Her (then) boyfriend had graduated that year
and joined the Army. A year later they reconnected and he came to visit
her in Arkansas. She asked him to bring a friend. He brought his
roommate "Jim" (i.e. Will Jimenez). And we met on that day in
September of 1994. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Despite our young love and the statistics that doomed us,
my church held a bridal shower for me. One sweet church lady came to our
wedding and told my mom later that she had cried-- that it had been that
beautiful. I pondered that. She must have had <i>hope for us.</i></span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Both of our families supported us, and we too, began to
feel hopeful. We had just turned nineteen and twenty.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">After our wedding in October, we rented a small trailer
(to live in) outside of the Army post. Will was sent to Megagold five
days later for a full month. Not long after returning, we put up our
first Christmas tree. Then two months after Christmas our son was
born. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We only had one operating vehicle, which Will took to
work. Five months later, I got an evening job. We barely saw each
other, but we didn't have money to pay a sitter. Times were hard, but we
were making it. Both sets of our parents did the best thing they could
do: they left us alone and they let us make our mistakes and learn from them,
while still encouraging us from the sidelines</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We grew up. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A ton. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A year later we moved to an apartment. I began
working two part-time jobs and the baby began going to a sitter.
Eventually, I was offered a full-time position at the second job, so I quit the
first one. Will left the military and we discovered that we were pregnant
again. This time, more on purpose, but not exactly the timing we'd
expected. Will worked whatever jobs he could. We saved every dime
for when the next baby came, and at the end of that year, Will landed a job in
Nashville that was somewhat steady with good pay -but with many hours.
Two months later, our second son was born. It snowed that first day in
March. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn't want to put the boys into daycare, so instead of
returning to my management position at Food Lion, I began babysitting, despite
knowing little about children. We moved into a rental house. I
began running a full 24 hour open daycare. Will was commuting daily to
Nashville, then driving all over TN for work. He left by 5am and most
times came home around 6 or 7pm. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Marriage was <i>hard</i>. So. Very. Hard. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Life was <i>hard</i>. I was tired from all of the
kids --and lonely without good friends. I was suffering and in a
rough place. We had had to grow up so fast and were both angry most of
the time now. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Eventually, both of our jobs tapered off into places that
seemed more reasonable and we were able to buy a house in a quiet
neighborhood. It looked like a good place to raise our boys, who
were now five and two. It had a basement for my daycare business, which I
had now established. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We took a beach vacation. We bought an
SUV.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Will still commuted to Nashville for work. He still
drove all over the TN countryside for various work, but our relationship was
becoming somewhat <i>better</i>. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I began taking the boys to church and made some friends
and it was a good starting place back, but inside I felt empty still. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, knowing that I could no longer have two different
lives - I gave my full commitment. If God would still have me, I would be
His. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He would. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And He did.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Circumstances changed little. But life changed
dramatically. Especially the way I saw it. I was so excited.
I was twenty-six. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I started teaching preschool and went back to college.
Will was hired locally (same line of work) but we could see him more now.
Everything began looking better.</span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, in 2007, Will had a heart attack. He was
31. Our boys were 11 and 8 that year. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Then we found out even crazier news: we were expecting a
third child.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Now this blew us away. We were scared.
Perplexed. We were trying hard to be thankful. It was strange.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I learned so much that year. Like keeping my eyes
constantly fixed on Jesus. Amazing. Emotional. And
exciting. And near the end of that year our beautiful daughter was
born. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Two years later we hit rock bottom. A deep
bottom. Hot tears. Pain. Frustration. Agony.
Prayer. Conflict. Hanging on...barely. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">But we held. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And we made it through that year.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And the next one...</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And I fell into his strong arms. And he
kissed my head. And we knew what we'd known deep down all along.
That if we can make it one year, we can make it two and so on and so forth and <b>the
years really do get <i>better</i></b>. Despite the occasional hang-up
years (and those do happen) we will live through the Rough. The <b>not-so-easy
</b>vows. The wow -"I cannot believe <b>we </b>made it
through"- times. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Statistically, we really <u>shouldn't be married</u>.
Barely knowing each other....selfish, young, inexperienced, lost, and longing
for dreams that we hardly knew then.</span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet, We Are.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And we have been....7,300 days.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Because with GOD all things are possible!</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And I love him deeper than I ever dreamed possible.
Because that is what God can do through two people who are committed to seeing
it through each year......(or sometimes just each day)!</span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We look forward to our future together, watching our
children grow, sharing our time and love together, learning new things, and
experiencing the joy and triumph of this LOVE.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "constantia"; font-size: xx-small; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Constantia;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And we look forward to being amazed. </span></span></span></span><br />
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jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-39582942027477709322015-10-06T23:25:00.000-07:002017-07-24T15:14:36.248-07:0020 years in the makingWill and I celebrate Twenty Years of Marriage:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qyY_mMtH7ZE" width="480"></iframe><br />jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-40849798966152787532013-08-06T11:46:00.000-07:002013-08-06T11:49:05.472-07:00The End of the Last Summer - the Beginning of the New School YearWe stayed at home all day today. Since that rarely happens, it's <i>notable</i>. I'm cleaning out Brielle's room. We've hoped to paint it all summer, but now with so little time left, it feels like "crunch time." Time to prepare. Time to fit it all in. Time to enjoy every last second. Time to do something fun!<br />
For me, that every last second is an all-encompassing time. Josh will go into his Senior year of high school. Tyler will enter as a freshman. And Brielle will begin Kindergarten - at a public school, something I never thought would happen. I can't read the above sentences without getting choked up and tears making their way back again. Earlier this afternoon, I had a moment. While cleaning B's room I got to the books and had to stop. I realized that I've been collecting (used) books for years with the intent to homeschool her. I imagined teaching her, spending out our days learning, delving, exploring - right now- when she's just a sweet little sponge. Before she dislikes learning any particular subject. <br />
I thought I was at peace with our decision, and now my mind is like a whirlwind of second-guessing everything! Should we really be sending her off to public school? Should I be driving half-way across town to take Tyler to different school- just because we believe he's being given a greater opportunity? Even if he dislikes the whole idea immensely? Are we making the best decisions as parents with these children God has entrusted to us?<br />
Parenting is such an emotional event sometimes. Last night I was reading my friend's blog and thought, wow..... She is doing exactly what she's supposed to be doing and she knows it. AND she LOVES it! (She's homeschooling, of course.) When I was a young mom with children, I had no idea there were other options than public school (unless you could afford private school). Yet, when I put our firstborn on the bus that first day, my heart fell to my stomach. I <i>felt </i>it fall. I released him to the world, and it scared and baffled me. That was twelve years ago.<br />
Now that I'm older, I know more things. My mommy-friends know things also. They and I have talked about such. We've felt torn and questioned everything. We love our children immensely and desire the absolute best for them. We've prayed and prayed. Some of them chose to homeschool, some public school, and some private school.<br />
Sometimes I am afraid I feel jealous. This pains me, as deep down I know we all make the best decisions -for our unique families.<br />
I'm still cleaning B's bedroom and she is all over the place, making messes in the living room, then the kitchen and I get frustrated. Honestly, why all the mess? I think to myself I should have waited until she started school: then I could clean without distractions. I want school to start and I feel guilty. Was I not just crying to homeschool her? I'm so confused.<br />
Then this song comes on and I realize.<br />
I am moving into new ministry position this Fall, one that I have been a part of the past five years, but will now be directing. I'm certain this is God's plan and place for me. I know I need to be available for our teen sons. I know God gave me this wonderful life, full of blessings and responsibilities that He has entrusted me with. I know He has a plan and a purpose. And I know that trusting Him this upcoming year - and every consecutive year - is absolutely necessary. I inhale deeply. I exhale through tears of joy and I praise Him for the blessings that I have been given. Thank You God- Thank You God.jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-8857033250363340072013-07-24T18:39:00.002-07:002013-07-24T18:54:09.501-07:00Summary of Josh's Mission Trip to Guayama!!!!Josh and his team had a wonderful experience in Guayama, Puerto Rico last week! I know that God heard your prayers as you lifted them up! Many of his group were on their first mission trip ever. The week has not worn off of them yet. Randomly, Josh will say, "I miss Puerto Rico" or "I miss Charlie." I know now that he's not just missing this island (where part of his family & heritage come from) but the island, the team of friends that formed a family while there, the natives who showed them love and joy while they worked, the efforts they collectively accomplished, the lunch breaks on the bay, and on and on......God showed them so much!<br />
I didn't get any updates from Josh during the week. His friend Brooke posted picture updates online, but I didn't really know what the stories were until Josh came home and sporadically told them. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">130 Participants of July 15-19 Guayama, Puerto Rico<br />
World Changers</td></tr>
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Last Monday they arrived in Guayama at World Changers --a mission camp where projects are organized in each location (they are many all over the U.S. & the world). They lodged in a church building - the guys in one large room (a balcony actually) and the girls in another. Apparently cots had just been donated the week before, so they were the first group to use them. The showered in makeshift showers outdoors. There were 130 participants from eight states that attended this week of World Changers. They were placed into groups of six to twelve people then went out on their "assignment."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1updojSXGMPd5K9FTSdRADLzshDSEgluXoqZqO5YBc_NVjDCya1re1MCdPaVNCJDEaSR2VvBAmmPCs-RWG0iWqLlhbXKPXtn02S-INb8d7uH55UfKqkwZy9nMEXVoWpAbBxo6w0fYPkw/s1600/IMG_7414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1updojSXGMPd5K9FTSdRADLzshDSEgluXoqZqO5YBc_NVjDCya1re1MCdPaVNCJDEaSR2VvBAmmPCs-RWG0iWqLlhbXKPXtn02S-INb8d7uH55UfKqkwZy9nMEXVoWpAbBxo6w0fYPkw/s320/IMG_7414.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Plumb Bobs" at Phillipe's house</td></tr>
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Josh (and Brooke) were in the "Plumb Bobs" group. Their group went to Philippe's house. Philippe's niece, Mildred, went with this group. The Plumb Bobs spent all four days there. At first I thought, "how much work can eleven people do at one man's small house?" But after seeing the pictures, it is obvious they had plenty to do for four days, and they did a great job. Josh said Philippe was at first reluctant and wary of the group. He didn't want them in the house much, only cleaning up the yard (aka jungle) outside and allowing them in to clean the kitchen. But by day three he was sitting out on his porch anticipating their arrival and excited to see them coming! <br />
They worked hard. They only stopped for breaks when they tired. Two participants in their group (who had been to four other World Changer camps sites) said this was the "least-complaining" most "hardest working" group they'd been with yet. Though labor-intensive, Josh said the weather was great and they could feel the constant breeze coming up from the ocean a mile away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTryFHlIRPSsRLNJ1oZtnimxYPp8YEQwtpFpSIcRz1Qsg9eMndKaCw0YOqhjuwhhB5BcTcmYFkeohDGV9zFOmhyphenhyphenBgK4QygFJvczEMRdy4Vzp2ccg8cTj_Jopj-xXhAqAYwFd7mqW1U97g/s1600/IMG_7527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTryFHlIRPSsRLNJ1oZtnimxYPp8YEQwtpFpSIcRz1Qsg9eMndKaCw0YOqhjuwhhB5BcTcmYFkeohDGV9zFOmhyphenhyphenBgK4QygFJvczEMRdy4Vzp2ccg8cTj_Jopj-xXhAqAYwFd7mqW1U97g/s200/IMG_7527.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh & Brooke taking a lunch break on<br />
the bay.</td></tr>
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They loaded up everyday at lunchtime and went to the bay where picnic tables under brick pavilions were located, not far from Philippe's home. While there on one of the first days they met Charlie. Charlie did not have a job, just a bike. He asked Mildred what they were doing, and she told him. He asked if he could come along? She said that would be fine, but not to get in the way. She said he'd have to work too and not be lazy. Charlie agreed. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie on site holding a crab!<br />
(There is a video where he caught an iguana!)</td></tr>
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When they returned to Philippe's house to chop down the yard with machetes, Charlie jumped right in. Josh said he was the funniest guy. He loved to laugh and to make others laugh. And he chopped down most of the yard, a task Josh said would have taken the rest of the group a very long time to do! By the end of the week Charlie<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.571426391601563px; text-align: center;">Bananas in Phillipe's back yard!</td></tr>
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definitely became a part of their Plumb Bobs group it seems. And though he had joined them to pass time and have fun, he affected their time there greatly, and they had a powerful influence on him as well, as Charlie was able to see Christ's love by spending time around this awesome group of young servants. Josh didn't give me the full story, but did say that Charlie was not a Christian when they met him, but that he was by the end of the week. Praise God!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh giving the basketball to Joshua.</td></tr>
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sThe highlight of Josh's week: The twelve year old (also named Joshua) who dribbled his basketball everywhere he went. The basketball was tattered and worn, but the kid didn't care. Here, when a basketball gets that worn, Josh will throw it out, as it's no longer worth playing or practicing with. This may seem like some kind of snooty Westerner thing, but this is his sport, and quality of ball does matter, just like a marathon runner's shoes would. So, the next trip to the local store Josh purchased a basketball for the boy, and his face -when Josh handed it to him- was the highlight of the trip for him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cage, Josh, & Michelle</td></tr>
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On Friday it rained, so they couldn't work much, Josh took advantage of this and took a long nap. On Saturday morning they left and headed to San Juan to enjoy an day of hiking, swimming in a waterfall, and sight-seeing.<br />
Overall, from the stories I have heard (which you have now read), it seems to have been an awesome mission trip for all involved! God is so amazing! We are so thankful for everyone who supported Josh & his team, financially, in prayer, through encouragement, in EVERYTHING!<br />
<a href="http://blog.lifeway.com/worldchangers/category/guayama-puerto-rico/" target="_blank">There is a web page of the week produced from World Changers if you want even more information.</a> The video is great - but long. So we marked the "time starts" if you want to specifically see Josh's team: minutes timed in at 4:17 & 4:45 (on this one look carefully at Philippe's face full of excitement!)jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-42970775784284716342013-06-10T09:55:00.001-07:002013-06-10T09:55:02.777-07:00Smearing Calendars and Summer Whirlwinds Wow, the days are just flying by. Calendar pages are being flipped and summer is smearing right before is. It was just April! Now it's mid-June!?! The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Clarksville-Downtown-Market/109810129050478?fref=ts" target="_blank">Clarksville Downtown Market</a> started with a BANG! Loved it! Love my new location on the lower level parking lot. The traffic volume is higher and so my inventory is being<i> taken out</i> - which is SO GREAT! It also means more work (to main that kind of inventory level) which was not the case last year. Last year (on the upper upper lot) I had time to work on things, chat with other vendors, even walk around and shop a bit. This year - very seldom do I get a break - and I'm super happy about it, because God is so good! And the coolest part is that I love creating and sharing it with appreciative customers. It's like art flowing from my life into theirs. It's so beautiful. I love talking to people and hearing their responses, their suggestions, and their ideas. I like hearing about their lives! It enhances me to be even more creative in my work. I love it!<br />
Back on the home front there are still household obligations and family schedules though. Which means I have to juggle a lot. Josh (the oldest) is pretty self-sufficient, getting himself to work and basketball practices, which is a blessing. Tyler (currently at church camp this week) can also get himself to summer day camp, the pool, the store, etc... Brielle, she's the one I have to really work with on scheduling, time, activities, and play dates. She's playing T-Ball, attending Vacation Bible School(s), and is currently at Tumbling Camp. All of this and my household chores <i>haunt </i>me daily! I do actually mean <i>haunt</i>. That means I'm barely getting them done, and when I'm not doing them, I feel haunted by them, nagged even. My sweet husband even noticed-- and washed the dishes yesterday. (Bless him!) So, I've asked the kids to help out some, and I'm currently reading, <a href="http://www.entitlementtrap.com/" target="_blank">"The Entitlement Trap"</a> which I hope to implement soon! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdto-Wn7Zu2DuDm1xajVQbrMPmlu6Ycj5-73u5anGolnMgZ2UmmwB4a6FEwLLdD0ISLtK71xXFBKKjhnoG8uldMn7aigeCKHeZh8_hNfiDAvCYvU_c9gsNMVSi3KbWQNXClceqVS_sQM/s1600/Snapshot_20130610_1.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/AVvXsEhcdto-Wn7Zu2DuDm1xajVQbrMPmlu6Ycj5-73u5anGolnMgZ2UmmwB4a6FEwLLdD0ISLtK71xXFBKKjhnoG8uldMn7aigeCKHeZh8_hNfiDAvCYvU_c9gsNMVSi3KbWQNXClceqVS_sQM/s320/Snapshot_20130610_1.JPG" width="320" /></a>But just for this morning, I'm pouring into my blog as I sit looking out the window of the 2nd story of the Library, trying to capture -or slow a bit- of this summer. The kids are each somewhere, and I decided that I would save gas by staying around downtown for while two of them await transportation rides home. I did kind of envision a slower, more laid back summer, but I'm embracing this action-packed one too. <br />
This week I'll also be making more coasters, laundry soap and play-dough! And beads. Always beads. I hope to so see you soon & thank you for reading my blog through! It means so much to me! Have a great SUMMER!!!jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-30054971718592896232013-05-17T14:06:00.002-07:002013-05-17T14:08:35.604-07:00Great News!The greatest news is that Josh is fully funded for his Mission Trip to Puerto Rico!!! Yay!!!!!!!! We are so thankful for the generous support of friends and family who just amazing lavished him with prayer, support, and the funds to be able to take this trip!<br />
Well, okay, the greatest news of ALL is that Jesus was born, lived an amazing life, did lots of cool things (like miracles) and turned everything upside down, then gave His perfect life as a sacrifice for ALL people for ALL time. That His gift continues to give <b><i>to us</i></b> every single second of every day is GRACE FOR ALL TIME. Yes, that is the greatest news of all!!!<br />
But Josh getting to go on mission for Him, that's pretty freakin' great too! :)<br />
If, I could ask: Please keep praying for him!!!! We would all super appreciate it!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JIJ8BApmwzovW8i3MEAuq8DN__4Q5glBtDdDwWJ-QPq6orcR2M0D6RjHX_ixtsD1Y9EjLeX6u9mMqcCSHWoq_m4Z9lXL1D0jn6EFdH4WXdbJBTLn0S_8Gmhjg5gBg4p2GkalUTVPoOs/s1600/100_5609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JIJ8BApmwzovW8i3MEAuq8DN__4Q5glBtDdDwWJ-QPq6orcR2M0D6RjHX_ixtsD1Y9EjLeX6u9mMqcCSHWoq_m4Z9lXL1D0jn6EFdH4WXdbJBTLn0S_8Gmhjg5gBg4p2GkalUTVPoOs/s320/100_5609.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting Ready!</td></tr>
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In other great news: The Clarksville Downtown Market starts tomorrow morning!!!!! SOOOOOO Excited about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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I hope to see you there. Mention you read my blog and you will save $1 on any purchase!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I keep my prices as low as I possibly can, so this could help! Thanks for your support! My family and I really appreciate it!!!!jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-73156075067709278592013-04-20T08:12:00.000-07:002013-04-20T08:12:32.381-07:00Josh's Mission Trip to Guayama, Puerto RicoWhen we found out that Josh's group (Relevant Students) from OneChurch were going to go on a Mission Trip to Puerto Rico this summer, of course we asked how much it would cost. When Josh found out it was $1,000 - he told me he couldn't do it. Reason being: he could not ask people for money to support him. (This guy doesn't even ask for a ride. Ever. Even if there it's freezing rain, tornado coming, lightening striking wicked out). Okay, maybe that's extreme, but it's true! Josh does not like to ask for help. <i><b>(I have NO idea where he gets this from!)</b></i> <i><sheepish grin></i><br />
But I really thought we could raise the money, if he truly wanted to go, which he did.<br />
Then I discovered how vulnerable it makes a person to ask for support (especially the financial kind). But I typed up a letter and posted it on Facebook and we started asking. My friend called that very morning and I shared my apprehension with her and she said to me, "you know when you ask people to pray and support you (or your family) you are inviting them in to share the journey, the blessing, that will be experienced through God's mission. For His Glory." Wow. So, asking for prayers became easier & easier, as I thought about her words. And in just a short time Josh grew more confident and trusting. He believes he'll get the support he needs.<br />
Me, I'm trying, but I've been a little stressed out by it. Then, I had lunch with a friend who had adopted a baby. We were friends before this was even an idea, so I was involved in the whole process, somewhat. I remembered clearly how anxious she had been and how apprehensive she was about raising the money for the adoption (it costs a LOT of money to adopt!). She looked at me and said, "Don't worry about it. My parent's mission trip was recently funded. His adoption was funded." She said this so <i>confidently. </i>It stuck with me. And I kept praying. Then, a few days later a check arrived in the mail, from a friend of mine who'd moved away, who knew our family. She had written words of encouragement and prayer. And I thought, "her family is joining us in the blessing. You can take this." And honestly, it was humbling. And so encouraging. <br />
So, as hard as it is for me/us to take anything, it's much easier to invite people to join us in supporting Josh on this journey - supporting him in prayer, financially, whichever. So that they too, can partake in the blessing of God's great commission, His heart for life changed.<br />
If you would please PRAY we are so grateful.<br />
If you would like to support Josh financially (he currently has $591.74 still to raise) there is a link at the top right of my blog or you can mail a check to him, just email or FB me for our address. Thank you for just <b>reading </b>this though! God bless you!jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-50157142430432850852013-03-29T13:36:00.000-07:002013-04-09T06:20:24.474-07:00The Last Hour of AloneIt is 3:00 pm on Friday afternoon. May 29, 2013. Two of our three children are at their grandparents' house - six hours away - for Spring break week. Our seventeen-year-old son stayed back for lifeguard training this week. This afternoon he drove himself to the community center to play basketball. His dad is at work. I'm on the computer. And it dawns on me. <i><span style="font-size: large;">This is it.</span> </i> This is the last time I'll be home by myself for a while again.<br />
<i>And I'm checking Facebook.</i> <b>Really? </b> I tell myself I need to get off. I look around and think, "well, what <b>DO</b> I want to do <i>this </i>last hour at the end of <i>this </i>week?" I can't think of it. <br />
I've been listening to Spotify (all week). It's been great. I've been cleaning, painting, working, you know - productive things... <br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Give-Them-Wings-Preparing-Teens/dp/1561796727" target="_blank">Gungor's "Dry Bones"</a> is playing.<br />
My friend and I prayed together just this morning...<br />
As I scroll my page, a post or two reminds me of an online friend, April Karli, and I realize I haven't seen her posts lately. Maybe it's been months. Is she off FB? I search. <br />
Nope, she's still here. She just posted <a href="http://aprilkarli.com/2013/03/29/holy-week/" target="_blank">her own blog two hours prior!</a> Her blogs have greatly encouraged me in the past. I scroll her page. She's notorious (to me) for sharing other writers' interesting, encouraging, and thought-provoking blogs or articles. I've never met April in real life. She lives in Texas and <i>I'm not sure about Texas.</i> But I like April. I keep scrolling. <a href="http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com/2013/03/sex.html" target="_blank"> I find two blogs she's shared about teen boys. </a> I have two teen boys and I always want to be a better mom to them. I always <b><i>feel </i></b>like I could do <u>better</u>. In fact, during Spring Break I was reading the book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/034551369X/?tag=googhydr-20&hvadid=6295484357&ref=pd_sl_h8eflmevf_b" target="_blank">"Boys should be boys" by Meg Meeker (great book!)</a>, wondering if I am too late? I want the absolute best for them! I think of that often. Pray for it often. God <i>show </i>me and show them! This is every mother's prayer, right?<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7CuiKVhiSwfxDWDCkV82OIIGv2cVwDtWa1wmLfxjrp8d7WE6g6FS8MrsYLI23RScQxG0HPteqKFKoC3aLso3X77KMZ8Sppiy6SplRB2SugJeGRO0MSk9WB6Z_jigDhyphenhyphenNrGFl8ijKu2Q/s1600/100_0317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7CuiKVhiSwfxDWDCkV82OIIGv2cVwDtWa1wmLfxjrp8d7WE6g6FS8MrsYLI23RScQxG0HPteqKFKoC3aLso3X77KMZ8Sppiy6SplRB2SugJeGRO0MSk9WB6Z_jigDhyphenhyphenNrGFl8ijKu2Q/s320/100_0317.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Three years ago at Dunbar Cave<br />Josh-14 Tyler-11</span></i></td></tr>
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They are now seventeen and fourteen; I just love them wholeheartedly. <br />
So I read the blogs. I'm crying. Then...I'm bawling.<br />
And now- I'm typing about it.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/03/after-steubenville-what-our-sons-needs-to-know-about-manhood/" target="_blank">Ann Voskamp's page is still up playing the piano, and I haven't even finished reading the full post yet!</a> I had to pause because it was so overwhelming. It's an awfully good feeling. But <b><i>so</i></b> hard. But I know now that this is exactly how I would <b><i>choose </i></b>to spend my last hour. I want it to sink in. I want time to drink it in. I want to know. I want my boys to know. I want my daughter to know. How this <b><i><u>LOVE</u></i></b> is. This love that pierces the heart and hallows the soul. That digs deeper, and deeper, and becomes always more meaningful. Always more beautiful. Oh, how I long to feel it! The growing.<br />
<br />
<br />
And I cannot read this post my sister sent me without crying: <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/01/how-to-be-the-parent-you-want-to-be-40-things-every-child-must-know-before-they-leave-home/">http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/01/how-to-be-the-parent-you-want-to-be-40-things-every-child-must-know-before-they-leave-home/</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsqgwQ2jk08DJkEZU4VSQOnGWGUXJfAfSbMWj-584WUQO5umKOmciM1GMsrp2YXX0bPUmkPogu_fGO9In_B_VyzvDeoyGCUHL8P66emCNiChUrO2cBzQ1xSQvj-_Fg1wfycfYJ9KAAng/s1600/100_0315.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/AVvXsEgEsqgwQ2jk08DJkEZU4VSQOnGWGUXJfAfSbMWj-584WUQO5umKOmciM1GMsrp2YXX0bPUmkPogu_fGO9In_B_VyzvDeoyGCUHL8P66emCNiChUrO2cBzQ1xSQvj-_Fg1wfycfYJ9KAAng/s320/100_0315.JPG" width="320" /></a>So, I pause, and I read on. I cry. I read. I cry on. I count it all as gain. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Give-Them-Wings-Preparing-Teens/dp/1561796727" target="_blank">And as Carol Kuykendall says, "the hurt is a good hurt. The pain is a good pain</a>." And as strange as it may seem, I want to <i>FEEL</i> it. So...I do. And I'm truly thankful for it. <br />
Bettered by it. <br />
Battered by it. <br />
Humbled because of it. <br />
Thankful beyond measure.<br />
God knows.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh, how He must know.</i>jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-69714397317663307852013-03-19T21:31:00.002-07:002013-03-19T21:31:50.139-07:00Season 36: Episode 5<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Z3QNyTm2xtN8ig5HXLtttQihyphenhyphenBMdPgz_4eX-GmwEuPQLwjUlJpG0mVd11N4cGsGLFf6Xx9SLZAGupYDCdOZzAfdNkWVTKE4oarKt5vtm2jDq9NHsv7zB8mU6XGmn1X-6suUEHD2mLGU/s1600/Photo12310927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Z3QNyTm2xtN8ig5HXLtttQihyphenhyphenBMdPgz_4eX-GmwEuPQLwjUlJpG0mVd11N4cGsGLFf6Xx9SLZAGupYDCdOZzAfdNkWVTKE4oarKt5vtm2jDq9NHsv7zB8mU6XGmn1X-6suUEHD2mLGU/s320/Photo12310927.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love this handmade gift from my sister with all Local<br />Business Cards - mine included!</td></tr>
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The Fiddlers' Festival was great! I heard the talent was amazing, and I did get to see the cloggers, but they were just a small portion of the amazing talent that I heard filled the stage! As a Vendor, it went well over all, I met some new Vendor friends (always good!) and some new customer friends. I love talking to older people (like those 70+) because they have just wonderful amazing perspective on life and are full of so much KNOWLEDGE! There was one such woman (from Evansville, IN) who really could have been my good friend, as we were definitely kindred spirits (thank you Anne with an E), and I just really enjoyed talking with her for a half hour or so. It seemed we could have talked on for hours. I would have loved to visit her often, like-minded as we were, especially considering she was FULL of wisdom and I am not! You know....not like she was. Only going through LIFE can we gain perspective on some things. I told her to check out this blog, so hopefully she does & comments so I know she did!<br />
Being there made me all the more excited for the Clarksville Downtown Market! I'm still working on stocking & restocking my inventory. I'm excited about some new things I have coming out!<br />
<br />
In our family, Josh (our 17 year old), passed his drivers test! A good thing, a milestone step, but it also makes certain things more complicated, while also making other things easier.<br />
As I am parenting a toddler and a teenager simultaneously I can still with great honesty tell you that neither is easier than the other, they are both quite difficult in different ways! It's an emotional roller coaster, lovely and exciting, crazy and bittersweet.<br />
<br />
Softball started for Spring season! We had our first practice last Sunday. It was so much fun, but my entire body ached from it! Ha! Playing softball at age 36 is not for wimps!<br />
I hope to continue to write as the seasons of life progress. Hopefully I can continue to blog once a week through the busiest season of my year (Spring). I have a time set aside on Mondays to do it, and so far so good. I love it. It is like writing a letter update to a dear friend or cousin, somewhere far off, or not so far, but close to my heart, and I am so fortunate this is you, reader & friend!<br />
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jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-17761567913546453122013-03-06T14:38:00.001-08:002013-03-06T14:39:12.962-08:00Spring-minded!<br />
This weekend I will be vending at the<a href="http://www.tnfiddlers.com/" target="_blank"> Old-Time Fiddlers Festival.</a> After I committed to it, there were about three other invitations I received for events going on this weekend. Popular weekend! I am very interested to see how it is going to go at the Festival as it's supposed to last late into the night Friday and all day Saturday, again going late into that night. I'm a little skeptical at how much time I can stay there! (Especially since the weather is supposed to be awesome.) But, if you are near <a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?q=rossview+high+school&hq=rossview+high+school&hnear=Clarksville,+Tennessee&t=m&z=12" target="_blank">Rossview High School </a>and enjoy Fiddlin' competitions you should definitely come check it out. If you don't, I will be sure to let you know how it goes. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xQSSrERfDlMmujR7WVwAVZzIkUplNPeIEumIcet87CCtMCXodWmyieLm59gmtAwJT6x0seYI3BKXm4685kKoxdZd-cSqiQcrBQSs81Zix9HSPmkwEIvIzHiphiMujvqJR1VhlIuv2Ts/s1600/Snapshot_20130306_3.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/AVvXsEj9xQSSrERfDlMmujR7WVwAVZzIkUplNPeIEumIcet87CCtMCXodWmyieLm59gmtAwJT6x0seYI3BKXm4685kKoxdZd-cSqiQcrBQSs81Zix9HSPmkwEIvIzHiphiMujvqJR1VhlIuv2Ts/s320/Snapshot_20130306_3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
To the right is a sneak peak of some new items, styles, & colors I have coming out. This is what my work table currently looks like (and I cleaned it this morning!).<br />
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This upcoming Friday I am taking our oldest son, Josh, for his actual driving test before her receives his official drivers licence. We've been doing a lot of "practicing," so hopefully it will go well for him.<br />
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Spring is in the air!<br />
Well, it is for me <b>in my mind</b> anyway, even though it was still bitterly cold yesterday. I keep thinking of this quote, and I'm not quite sure where it came from:<br />
How then can we truly appreciate the glories of Spring, if we have not indeed gone through the dead of Winter?<br />
<br />
I'm learning (and always trying to learn) to appreciate the different seasons of life; however strange, lonely, or complicated they seem to be. <br />
<br />
Also, I am still reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heaven-Randy-Alcorn/dp/0842379428/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362609270&sr=8-1&keywords=heaven-+randy+alcorn" target="_blank">Heaven by Randy Alcorn</a>. Intense. You should read it. I can't really explain it, but if you read it we will have lots to talk about - because it contains life-changing content.<br />
<br />
I've also been a Vegetarian for the past 16 days!!! Totally accidental, of course. Maybe that will be my next blog post! ;)jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-61236366922206234152013-02-25T05:56:00.003-08:002013-02-25T06:16:12.657-08:00Give it up<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfri5hEskDZ-T52aEKB2N5IWYTK3m7QFGT1YaWyd45ckhmBdMh53dKUxcVUf9-FJsoPSpDVU9vR7MgBcEL0LX1XOlo3FprU7jliq8YX5dB9qsfwdagXUKACYv3E8IZSoDjBNUhyphenhyphenVavPE/s1600/456606_10151461312803501_1944168794_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfri5hEskDZ-T52aEKB2N5IWYTK3m7QFGT1YaWyd45ckhmBdMh53dKUxcVUf9-FJsoPSpDVU9vR7MgBcEL0LX1XOlo3FprU7jliq8YX5dB9qsfwdagXUKACYv3E8IZSoDjBNUhyphenhyphenVavPE/s320/456606_10151461312803501_1944168794_o.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
Basketball season has ended, softball is just around the corner, then it's time for the Downtown Market!<br />
Steadily building my inventory, I am excited about some "new products" I have created to share this upcoming season. <br />
The Market begins May 18th. The Vendor Fees have increased, so I do foresee that trickling into the prices of the goods, but it shouldn't be extreme. Most vendors have always had such great prices to begin with. That is, for handmade or home grown These prices should be kept in line with the time it took to make or grow a product, and the money it cost to do so, for fairness.<br />
My next vendor opportunity is the <a href="http://www.tnfiddlers.com/" target="_blank">Old Time Fiddlers' show March 8th & 9th</a> at <a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?q=rossview+high+school&hl=en&ll=36.571148,-87.256165&spn=0.144482,0.338173&hq=rossview+high+school&hnear=Clarksville,+Tennessee&t=m&z=12&iwloc=A" target="_blank">Rossview High School</a>. I'm looking forward to it. Every year I read about it in the<a href="http://www.theleafchronicle.com/" target="_blank"> Leaf Chronicle</a>, but this is the first time I'll be there. When I was nine and ten years old I took violin lessons, so I have great respect for the instrument and the talent required to play it. <br />
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Before yesterday afternoon (when a sweet friend enlightened me with a gentle reminder from the Love of God) I was thinking, thinking, thinking, stressing, and considering summer plans. <i> I really like to plan summer. </i> Our oldest son, Josh, has fortunately gotten a summer job, but they have asked him to commit to it for the summer, taking only one week off, because it is only a ten week job. Well, that just throws a wrench into family vacation, church camps, basketball camps, and time at the grandparents' house. I have felt so torn, how to help him have it all, knowing that the summer between his Junior & Senior year is so special. So fleeting. I have this fear that he won't have been given every opportunity, that he won't have experienced everything he needs to before his Senior year of high school.<br />
How do I help? What can I do? The wheels in my head have been spinning and the wrench is getting worn. It might have sounded awful in my son's head every time I tried to broach the subject, thinking <b>we need a plan now!</b> I think he started avoiding me. Still, I felt the need to tell him everything I knew about it all. <br />
If he has to choose just one week to do what he wants to do this summer, he must choose very wisely! Then I started trying to persuade/influence him (unknowingly, of course).<br />
Finally, he just said, "Stop. Please. Stop" <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mSP5otppis0sPufQlds76KlH5qZI4OyNLlxD0I5uWs99rK0f6rXdgiYl3UgHGliPTkfo2t-P8s7VRe2vFZ7cTAyBqRa-K17D2ql_V9foJdXEXDajo2DcgCaxL6xMAFX8jvLt4NMJKTo/s1600/48153_10151773930419899_356896557_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mSP5otppis0sPufQlds76KlH5qZI4OyNLlxD0I5uWs99rK0f6rXdgiYl3UgHGliPTkfo2t-P8s7VRe2vFZ7cTAyBqRa-K17D2ql_V9foJdXEXDajo2DcgCaxL6xMAFX8jvLt4NMJKTo/s320/48153_10151773930419899_356896557_n.jpg" width="102" /></a>And I realized.<br />
I <i>(really)</i> can't make his decision for him, ever how huge it may seem to me.<br />
NO coercing. No persuading. No intellectual/experiential advice.<br />
It suddenly feels like when I put him on the bus for kindergarten that first day. When my heart fell to my stomach as I realized I had to let go. That he was going. Then he was gone.<br />
Nothing prepares you for that with your first child, whenever it happens. As it continues to happen.<br />
Nothing. <br />
And though it is supposed to happen, and we can enjoy the process, it is soooooooooo bittersweet.<br />
He has to make his own choices. Though my intentions are good-- in wanting to be a loving, informative, giving mom--- I have to let go and give it up. (My friend's words, "give it up.") I knew exactly what she meant as the wrench was torn from my heart. <br />
It's a scary thing.<br />
Have I prepared him?<br />
Have I taught him everything I know?<br />
And <i>who? Just who do I think I am? </i>I'm having to trust that I have done the best with what I have known. Yet, believing and trusting that God will do <b>much much more</b> than I could have dreamed of doing. That He will provide every good thing my son needs. That He will take him to and through things that will forever change the man, and that He will teach and teach and teach him more.<br />
I know it seems like I should have been prepared for this, but unbeknownst to me, this is one of those things that can only be experienced to be understood. Fully felt.<br />
<br />
Crazily, it is our greatest hope as parents is that when the time comes we can truly let go and <i>give it up</i> - stand back with tears in our eyes - and watch them fly. <br />
<br />
My Hope.<br />
<br />
So I waited. Eight long days. I prayed, but not nearly as much as I should have have. I learned that I needed to pray more. About many things. SO many things. That I should pray without ceasing. I cease far to often! I should pray. <br />
<br />
I MUST pray.<br />
<br />
Then he goes away for two days. <br />
He returns.<br />
He says he knows what he is doing now.<br />
He has chosen.<br />
<br />
Whatever. I am content with <i>whatever </i>decision he has made. Because I know it is God's hand. God's will. Our trust. Amazingly led. All along. Praise God. Thank You God.<br />
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Josh chose to go on the mission trip to World Changers: Puerto Rico with the <a href="http://www.onechurch.tv/#/ministries/relevant-students" target="_blank">Relevant Students</a> group this summer.jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7335393501678813295.post-27313384333819221102013-02-12T07:23:00.000-08:002013-02-12T20:27:25.165-08:00Tell Them / Speak LifeWe are temporarily down to one vehicle again. So, I am currently utilizing public transportation. The buses here are great, clean, affordable, and not that crowded. I've only been on one other city's bus to compare though. In Mexico we took their city bus to Market 29 to get some great deals from locals on souvenirs (if you buy souvenirs close to the resorts, you'll pay double). That bus was CAH-RAZY. The locals use it every day and they just cram into it to get to work, or home. It felt extremely illegal. But since we were sitting and it kept getting squishier, there was not getting off. We had people holding on while hanging out the front door of the bus, and people at passing bus stops were still trying to flag our bus down to get on! (Eye opening....considering most people I know (myself included) have the luxury of riding around in a five to seven passenger vehicle with a/c and heat).<br />
All this to say that Clarksville buses rarely have this problem. I've been taking it nearly every day. It allows for exercise, fresh air, some thinking time while waiting or riding, and personally I enjoy it.<br />
But it also does something else for me. It's humbling. Many times I overhear people talking about how they are trying to just get a job, or a GED, or place of their own. The bus I ride is en route to the local medical clinic that charges based on income, so a lot of people riding are in need of medical care also.<br />
So it was last week when I got on the bus and heard a young lady talking loudly to a guy friend sitting in front of her. She was in a wheel chair, and she may have been missing part of one leg, but I didn't want to stare, so I walked past her and sat down two seats behind. <br />
She was talking so loud and so much, I went to put my earphones on to resume listening to music. But then I could hear her over the earphone music, and <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Cscript%20type=%22text/javascript%22%20src=%22http://www.godtube.com/embed/source/0j91emnu.js?w=400&h=255&ap=true&sl=true&title=true%22%3E%3C/script%3E%3Cp%3E%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=0J91EMNU%22%3ETobyMac%20-%20Speak%20Life%20(Official%20Lyric%20Video)%3C/a%3E%20from%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.godtube.com/tobymac%22%3Etobymac%3C/a%3E%20on%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.godtube.com/%22%3EGodTube%3C/a%3E.%3C/p%3E" target="_blank">Tobymac's song Speak Life</a> came on, so I felt compelled to listen. She was telling stories of her childhood, wrought with emotional abuse. The stories were supposed to be funny, as she was loud in proclaiming them. But every once in a while she would look out the window and I could see her eye. And I knew that she knew. She knew that the life she'd been brought up in didn't make sense. That it wasn't right, but it had made and shaped her and she had resigned herself to it. I could see the pain in her eye even as she laughed and loudly recounted the stories of her family's dysfunction. She knew, somewhere deep down, that this childhood she'd had wasn't "good." <br />
Then I thought of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Cscript%20type=%22text/javascript%22%20src=%22http://www.godtube.com/embed/source/0j91emnu.js?w=400&h=255&ap=true&sl=true&title=true%22%3E%3C/script%3E%3Cp%3E%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=0J91EMNU%22%3ETobyMac%20-%20Speak%20Life%20(Official%20Lyric%20Video)%3C/a%3E%20from%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.godtube.com/tobymac%22%3Etobymac%3C/a%3E%20on%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.godtube.com/%22%3EGodTube%3C/a%3E.%3C/p%3E" target="_blank">Tobymac's song</a> and I wondered, "how can I speak life to her? I'm not even engaged in the conversation. She doesn't know me!"<br />
But I imagined for a second myself walking up to the seat across from her and time slowing for the moment, as I seriously told her what God wanted me to: "I have been sitting behind you listening to your stories and I feel God wants me to tell this: You are so worthy. You are beautiful. You are valuable and you are wise. The experiences you have been describing don't sound stable, and so I sensed that God wanted me to tell you how truly wonderful you are."<br />
Then I <i>really </i>wanted to tell her! She need to hear it! <br />
But then, I wondered, how would she respond to that? I didn't want to <i>offend </i>her.<br />
And I lost my nerve.<br />
So, I just prayed that she would know it somehow, as I sat there wondering who would tell her.<br />
I felt everything the opposite of brave.<br />
<br />
Is it possible (for ordinaries) to speak life to total strangers? I've heard stories of evangelistic people doing that. Is it Personality? Gifting? Or simply being equipped with courage while being obedient to God? What are some instances in your life where you have followed the Holy Spirit's prompting in a situation that seemed uncomfortable? How did it turn out? <br />
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I know I don't want to be ordinary. I want to be a rebel. An ordinary rebel. A fool. A crazy God-loving kid, who is NOT afraid to speak the truth to perfect strangers. I desire to speak<i><b> LIFE</b></i>. <br />
Oh God, please give me the courage.<br />
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<br />jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665434765557281049noreply@blogger.com3