tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67252044322471344842024-03-05T00:27:15.016-08:00Tingey TimesTingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-86829747762922752532019-10-18T20:33:00.000-07:002019-10-18T20:33:10.450-07:00The "Lasts" I Know About<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFly0fvwOaDqRRuGqbnjyZhx3auvfb7gbcpsRJqJCNWAnZJhrlwbtH6SAoytTNoNXgdb4y1QE5v1WyMGLj6fLpOGOPrHEOxIbLcvMFGJX5SRweHFKf6m5Y_Z4lL95rx4VIEoxSPqlxoU/s1600/Hailey+snr+pitures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFly0fvwOaDqRRuGqbnjyZhx3auvfb7gbcpsRJqJCNWAnZJhrlwbtH6SAoytTNoNXgdb4y1QE5v1WyMGLj6fLpOGOPrHEOxIbLcvMFGJX5SRweHFKf6m5Y_Z4lL95rx4VIEoxSPqlxoU/s320/Hailey+snr+pitures.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-fc4a3c92-7fff-a70a-8b3c-200b382f530b" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now is a time for “lasts”. I knew this time was coming. I planned for it, prepared for it, expected it. Yet, here I sit, rocked by the emotion of it. This week has been full of them; the last home soccer game, the last orthodontist appointment, the last Homecoming. Before this week was the last first day of school, the last to be given the freedom of a driver’s license, the last first date, the last first time wearing high heels. They have been great times and I committed myself to enjoy all the “lasts” that this last child is experiencing this year. June is coming and I want to experience and remember them all. I have to admit, I have shed some tears, but the big, bold, hot, ugly-cry tears are not for these lasts because they are only </span></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #00796b; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: line-through; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #00796b; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">some</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I know about. My tears are for the lasts which have passed, but I didn’t recognize.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When was the last time I braided her hair? When was the last time I read her a story in bed? When was the last time I helped her tie her shoes? When was the last time we made a fairy house together? When was the last time I bounced her high on the trampoline and caught her in my arms? My tears are not just for the lasts I don’t remember with her, but also for those with her older siblings. When was the last time I danced in the kitchen with the oldest? When was the last time I brushed bangs away from the eyes of my second? When was the last time my third dressed up to perform a story she had just written? When was the last time my fourth hugged me by wrapping his arms around my knees? When was the last time we were all working in the garden together? When was the last time I was up in the night rocking one of these little ones back to sleep after a dream or much needed glass of water? When was the last time someone started giggling during family prayer and we all ended up laughing together? </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are lasts still coming at us. The last 18</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="vertical-align: super;">th</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> birthday party is in a couple of months. There is the last basketball season, the last track meet, the last speech as Senior Class President to be delivered at the last graduation. She will be my last to leave home.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don’t get me wrong, I love having a front row seat watching her experience these lasts. I love seeing the amazing woman my girl is growing into. My experience seeing older children grow into adults gives me hope because while these lasts are happening and the time is passing quickly, it only means there are more firsts in store. I am looking forward to those firsts; the first apartment away from home, the first real-world job, the first time I meet the love of her life, the first time she has a child of her own. There are many firsts to come, but these are only some I know about.</span></span></span></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-62753799650222657522016-12-15T21:15:00.000-08:002016-12-15T21:22:59.036-08:00A Woman of Excellence<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 110%;">For several years, the
Proverbs 31 Woman was one of those women I loved to hate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was just TOO perfect and her lifestyle
didn’t come close to being like mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then one day I was sitting quietly after putting my small children to
bed and thinking about likening the scriptures to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized I needed to find out why the P31
woman was included in the scriptures and what I was supposed to learn from her.
I set aside my feelings of inferiority and set about discovering just who she
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was amazed at what I found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was the woman I wanted to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was generous and giving, responsible and
capable, industrious, diligent, productive, organized, efficient, inwardly and
outwardly beautiful, regal, faithful and blessed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a Woman of Excellence. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then had to find out how to become this
woman of excellence in the modern world and so began a life-long pursuit of
learning and growing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 110%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">P31W is <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">included in <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">the scriptures for more than just me, more than just <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">w<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">omen. She is an ex<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">ample of someone who <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">seeks excellence in all she does. <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">t makes no difference i<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">f your years of development happen at home while raising a family or out i<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">n the world. <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Th<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">e poin<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">t is to be excellent in all you do<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">.<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> N</span></span>o <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">matter how trivial <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">or m<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">undane the task<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">, do it with excellence. We wont be able to accomplish everything perfectly every<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> time we <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">try, but we <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">can be <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">perfect
in our attempt. We can go after everything with gusto using the best
of our abilities and practice to improve those abilities. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 110%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 110%;">Over
the years, I have learned that even though excellence is elusive, it is
possible. Excellence takes years, and I am not there yet, but there is
good news, I am getting closer everyday!</span>Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-35688685013390958832016-01-15T17:54:00.003-08:002016-01-15T18:08:22.263-08:00On Aprons, UFO’s, Accumulation and Not Letting Go <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Graduation is less than a year away and I am scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, let me back up a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I am a wearer of aprons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Most days I have one on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
something I started as a young mother to keep myself clean of runny noses and
splatters from mac and cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my
children grew, I continued to wear an apron as I completed my household chores
because of the convenience of the pockets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I would go about my tasks for the day, I collected all the
little things my family left behind. These UFOs (Unclaimed Found
Objects) made their way into my pockets to be put away as I worked my
way
through the various rooms of my home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I</span>
always kept pen and paper for taking notes of things I needed to refill or
replace, and by the end of the day, with six females living in the house, I had
a hefty accumulation of hair accessories, mostly hair elastics and bobby
pins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were Legos and Matchbox cars
and always at least one puzzle piece with the occasional Domino.<br />
<br />
These fabulous
pockets held little remnants of my life with my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now the pen and paper have been replaced by a
smart phone, the number of bobby pins has been reduced and I haven’t had to
pick up a miniature car for several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, I still wear my aprons. I still feel I need my aprons.</div>
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What does this have to do with business classes or
graduation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just this, I don’t know what
to do with my aprons. They represent much of who I am and what I have been
doing with myself for the last 25 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was confidently going about doing the things the Lord wanted me to do
with the knowledge of why I was doing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew the role I was filling and loved it. When it was time to finish
my education, I knew again, this is what the Lord intended for me, but this
time it was without knowing the why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, graduation is coming and I am scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I watched the interview with Tom Monaghan, of Domino’s Pizza
with fascination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was intrigued by his
words referring to his work with Ava Maria University,</div>
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“It is a privilege to be
given the wisdom to see what God wants me to do.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Although I am actively seeking His guidance, </span>I have not as yet been given this privilege.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So in the meantime, I am facing my last few
classes and graduation with some trepidation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What I do will have a significant impact on what I am, but I want what I
am to be more significant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I ponder
the avenues I could take with my new-found skills, it is thrilling to have so
many choices before me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Of all the choices, I </span>know I
want to keep my aprons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I can
make aprons for new young mothers, so they can fill their pockets with the
lives of their own families. Perhaps they will love their apron as much as I
have loved mine.</div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-39820750148875081762015-03-25T09:20:00.001-07:002015-03-25T09:20:01.559-07:00My Friend Eleanor<h2 class="date-header">
<span>Saturday, March 21, 2015</span></h2>
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I went to the funeral of a friend today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be more like her.</div>
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In reading this week I came across something that describes
her perfectly.</div>
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“If you want to shape your own hero’s story, you first must
know yourself and then </div>
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choose challenges that help you develop a sense of
mastery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You must be willing to </div>
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invest
in the growth of others, prepare for and learn to embrace adversity and practice</div>
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courageous acts of character building.” </div>
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I learned things about my friend I had never known
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her daughter gave an excellent
life sketch that made me love her even more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You see, Eleanor always gave to me and asked very little in return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was the grandma I needed when my kids
were small and my own mother lived far away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had the uncanny ability to know when I needed her and had just the
right kind of support ready to help me through whatever hardship or grief I was
experiencing at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She never let
on of the things she had already suffered in her life, she only shared the
wisdom she had learned from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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She was willing to invest in my growth having already
embraced adversity and courageously moved on from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was one of the happiest people I
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Much of my course work has talked about finding mentors,
people who have been where I am and already know the ropes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am to search for those I want to emulate
and learn to be successful from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, am I a mentor for someone else?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is the question I have had on my mind this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I helping to lead others down the paths I
have already gone through?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I do more
for others so they see the path for themselves?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can I be an Eleanor for some else?</div>
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I want to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what we are here for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what I need to learn to do, to invest in the growth of others. True Charity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-25512548588626219022015-03-03T15:57:00.000-08:002015-03-03T15:57:00.965-08:00Becoming a "Yes Man" I admit it, I trend toward the selfish side with my
time. I always have a list of the things I need to do and have a schedule
for how to get it done. When asked to change this schedule, for whatever
reason, I usually start thinking about what is left to be done instead of focusing
my attention on the person who needs me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a line in the Disney movie “Frozen” where Ana asks Christoff if
her hair looks bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he answers
her the way she wants, Olaf, the snowman, points out that he paused before
answering which makes his answer sound manufactured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I do this same thing to people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s not that I don’t want to help, I just know I have to rearrange things
for myself before I can help another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is the attitude I don’t like in myself.
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I recently watched a recording of Guy Kawasaki (Garage
Technology Ventures) speaking to a group of business students at Standford
University.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He suggested we develop an
attitude of always defaulting to Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
should be an immediate response to requests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It immediately puts us on the path to giving service to someone
else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t an attitude of martyrdom,
there will be time after the “yes” to analyze and schedule. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is simply a statement in the affirmative saying
we will help in whatever way we can. </div>
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So, as I think about how to apply this to my life, I keep
remembering the sweet sister in my ward who called on Sunday morning to ask me
if I would feed the missionaries sometime this month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I said was, “I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me look at my calendar. Oh, yes, this day
works for me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next time, I will say, “Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does such-and-such day work for you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-7287563850776515972015-02-21T16:49:00.001-08:002015-02-21T16:49:04.527-08:00Practice, Practice, PracticeUgh, the dreaded "P" word. How often, as a kid, do we hear that word
and hate the teacher or coach for saying it? As a piano teacher, I
have said it many times, and as a parent many more. Most of the time I
get the same reaction I gave when I was a kid, namely the slump of
shoulders accompanied by an eye-roll. Why? Why do we hate it so much?
For me, it is the fear of the upcoming performance.<br />
<br />
I
often put too much pressure on my practice times. When I am learning a
new piece of music because someone needs me to accompany them or perform
for some event, I feel the weight of the performance and it can
overshadow any enjoyment I may get from the experience. Maybe my
imagination is too vivid because I can feel the emotion of being in
front of the audience just as strong in my home, with no one around, as I
do when actually performing. Contrast this to when I am just playing to
play or learning a new piece just because I want to. At these times
there is freedom and if I make a mistake, I try again and move on.
Often these practice sessions feel more like prayer time. As I make
music, I let go of myself and I can feel a bond with eternity and there
is joy.<br />
<br />
I think this joy is what George Leonard is referring to in his book, <u>Mastery: the Keys to Success and Long-Term Fulfillment</u> when he says:<br />
<br />
<i>"Practice,
the path of mastery, exists only in the present. . . To love the
plateau is to love the eternal now, to enjoy the inevitable spurts of
progress and the fruits of accomplishment, then serenely to accept the
new plateau that waits just beyond them. To love the plateau is to love
what is most essential and enduring in your life."</i><br />
<br />
We
can apply this to all aspects of our life, not just music or sports.
Practicing my religion is one of the areas I can really apply this. I
am not a perfect Christian and will likely never be one, but I am better
at it than I was last year, and I can be better tomorrow than I am
today. The Lord does not put pressure on me, only I do that to myself.
He celebrates my improvement and challenges me to keep going, but never
belittles when I fail. He is the perfect coach. I will work at being a
better student of Him. I am looking forward to the practice.<br />
<br />Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-79088351445795677952015-02-21T16:48:00.002-08:002015-02-21T16:48:50.417-08:00Gifts and Something to Work On<div class="MsoNormal">
The introspection of the last few weeks coupled with
discussion of my personal character with friends and family (as per an assignment
regarding my ability as an entrepreneur or manager) has caused me to think more
about the gifts my Father in Heaven has given me and what I am doing with
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most especially, my ability as a
public speaker and teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have come
to a new realization that this ability is a spiritual gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I admit it isn’t one I have ever heard before
on any list in relation to gifts of the spirit, but I don’t think that makes it
unqualified as a gift.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>D&C 46:<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="11"> </a><span class="verse">11 </span>For all have not every gift given unto them; for
there are many gifts,</i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also ran upon this verse during my studies.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="34"></a><span class="verse"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">D&C 29:34 </i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wherefore, verily I say unto you that all
things unto me are spiritual, </i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and not at any time have I given unto you a law which was temporal . .
.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With this new understanding, I am wondering what to do with
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been a teacher several times
as a church calling and I always except the call to speak in a sacrament
meeting, but is this enough?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there
something I can do in my life to use it better in building the Kingdom of
God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or to build my community?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How is my study of business going to make me
better able to use this gift?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I
use this gift in the business world?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is
it needed there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it profitable?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is the message I would share?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With this ability also comes a level of confidence, or perceived
confidence by others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This confidence
can make me unapproachable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One friend
said it was in much the same way a shy person is perceived as being a snob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one came out and said it, but it would
seem I have an arrogance about me and it can rub people the wrong way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am glad they shared this with me, because I
wouldn’t want to purposely make someone feel they couldn’t talk to me about an
issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to work on being able to
get my point across while still enabling others to share their view too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love the Proverbs 31 woman and strive to be like her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Verse 26 reads</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She openeth her mouth with wisdom;</i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And in her tongue is the law of kindness.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think I can be both confident and kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To find the balance will make my confidence a
success trait instead of a stumbling block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GDrKOR4quyUJEVMDpW19b9MbpQKcnPLD_mTVMMX47LoSOROrp-V8k1Ga3QvKQvqJZ2PBtv0dSXG0vFp_gDrjyI7UdBrJRd0Y2ANGd4DXENz6YtNqF6hGY6Eb0htfnl3VdfMDgo6k-6zV/s1600/Proverbs31-25+262.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GDrKOR4quyUJEVMDpW19b9MbpQKcnPLD_mTVMMX47LoSOROrp-V8k1Ga3QvKQvqJZ2PBtv0dSXG0vFp_gDrjyI7UdBrJRd0Y2ANGd4DXENz6YtNqF6hGY6Eb0htfnl3VdfMDgo6k-6zV/s1600/Proverbs31-25+262.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-54771028765849399802015-02-06T18:26:00.001-08:002015-02-06T18:26:35.908-08:00Life's Many Missions<div class="MsoNormal">
I am supposed to find a mission for my life,
but what does that mean? Is a life mission one big event? Have I
missed it? Is it still waiting for me? How will I know it when I see
it? What if I find it but I am unable to complete it? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my mission in life?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The canned primary answer just slips off the tongue. We are sent to Earth to have a mortal experience with a body
and learn to be more like our Father in Heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While this may be true in the most general sense,
the mission of a specific individual is much harder to define. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
I believe we have many missions in life.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The most obvious one for me is: It is my mission to be the mother of my
particular children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This has been the
biggest one I have found so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
there are also many small missions which are easily overlooked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the little acts we do for others as
we live our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who know but that
time you showed kindness to someone was a job only you could do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe the Lord has us in situations to do
His work for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He inspires us to
action for the benefit of His children. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes we can feel like we don’t have a mission because
we are not part of something grand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
feel small and useless, but the accumulation of mini-missions can add up to a
lifetime of service, glorifying not only ourselves, but God as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Isn't this what makes a life well lived? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Doctrine and Covenants Section 58: 27 reads:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i>"Verily
i say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many
things of their own free will,and bring to pass much righteousness."</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time, when we feel mission-less,
it is because we have turned our thoughts inward to ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we reach out, we find missions every
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This mortal experience is about
finding those missions and completing them well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also like the next verse. 28:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>"For the power is in them . . ."</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
power to find and complete our missions is in us as we follow the
teachings of the Savior and listen to the guidance of the spirit. This
is comforting. I am certain there have been opportunities to serve in
mini-missions which I have missed, but that also means I have many more
to look forward to. </div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-17281455342265715642015-01-24T10:28:00.000-08:002015-01-24T10:28:15.118-08:00Ethicst Statement<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am an L.D.S. Woman.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In all things, I will strive to build upon my understanding
and my relationship with the Lord, Jesus Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each choice and action, even the most
mundane, will be willingly and conscientiously directed toward him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This attitude will allow me to grow and
develop characteristics which reflect my commitment to covenants I have
made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of these characteristics
include faithfulness, loyalty dependability, industriousness, peacefulness,
preparedness and being service minded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have heard someone mention that whatever we do, do it as
if doing it unto the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This attitude
has been something I have worked to develop within myself for many years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has helped me become a better mother in
ways I never would have seen before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Often the chores of motherhood are mundane to say the least and I fail
to find joy in my tasks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I remember
this simple attitude even the smallest chores like folding socks becomes a
joyful action celebrating my place and those I love the most.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I believe this same attitude carries over to other areas of
my life, from callings, to paying my bills, and to my relationships with my
family and those I come into contact with in the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also believe it will carry with me as I
re-enter the workforce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If all I do is
directed to the Lord, then there is no need to cheat, anger or make life
difficult for another. With every choice I am forced to ponder the question of
if I would perform the same way if I was actually doing it for, or to, the
Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-71237522817332730222015-01-18T22:56:00.000-08:002015-01-18T22:56:09.610-08:00The Bucket List
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the assignments for this week was to write a “Bucket
List”; 50 things we want to accomplish before we die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found this rather difficult, not because I
have no aspirations, but because I have accomplished so much already and I
thought it would be cheating to include those things on my list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some may think this is absurd, a stay-at-home
mom in her mid 40’s, who feels accomplished, but I really feel this way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trust me. I have had my fair share and then
some of run-ins with people who think my choosing to stay home is evidence of
my lack of ability in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
think my intelligence to be inversely proportionate to the number of children I
am raising. (I will include one little story about that at the bottom because
it has nothing to do with this assignment.) I even see this attitude in reading
assignments for my classes and from some classmates, although, I am sure my
fellow students have not done this purposely. This attitude doesn’t usually
bother me much, because the people who feel this way are the ones who don’t
know me. I know I am intelligent and capable and I became Mom on purpose. I
understand the honor and responsibility of the position. I am confident in the
eternal perspective given me by testimony in the gospel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lately, it has bothered me, a lot. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The problem is that this attitude is coming from me. I am
feeling intimidated by reading of the start-up of Yahoo! and other giants of
business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think, “Who am I to go out
there thinking I can do these things?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, in the reading for this week I ran across
one simple sentence I really appreciate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the book “The Start-up of You,” by Reid Hoffman, cofounder and chairman
of LinkedIn and Ben Cosnocha, was this little gem.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You can carve out a …
niche in the job market by making choices that make you different from the
smart people around you.”</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These authors assume I am smart and automatically put me in
that group. I should too. They think my life experience is worth something. I
should too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may not be interested in
starting a company and making it into something like Yahoo! or LinkedIn or any
of those other companies out there, but my ideas and dreams do have value and
not just at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**********************************************************************************</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A little anecdote about being rude.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I volunteer with my local emergency management office where
I participate in community response to emergencies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During one particular exercise I met several
FBI officers who were assigned to my area of the command post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the day opened we introduced ourselves and
because they all knew each other already, they began to ask me questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How long had I been working in Emergency
Management?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What other events had I been
part of?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many people who are part of
response, are really from other agencies like fire or public health. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of this, they asked what my usual day
job was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could have heard a pin drop
when I answered, “I am a mom expecting baby number 4 in two weeks.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They literally turned their backs making conversation between themselves, never saying anything more to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to work fulfilling my responsibility. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During a break in activity their boss, the Regional FBI
director who happened to be a former member of my stake presidency, walked into the room and
searched the faces looking for someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His gaze landed on me and his face lit up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked right to me and shook my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jennifer!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s great to see you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are
the kids?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We continued to have a
conversation for a while catching up on life, then he asked if I had seen the
person he was looking for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After giving
him direction on where he could find him he left without saying a single word
to any of the officers there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned
back to the room to find all of them staring at me with their mouths agape and
they fell all over themselves trying to figure out who I really was and how I
knew their boss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I took too much
pleasure at their discomfort, because it was obvious they felt badly for the
way they had treated me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still laugh
about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I should repent for
that!</div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-69909544192570777812015-01-18T22:49:00.000-08:002015-01-18T22:49:01.124-08:00Beginnings<br />Most of the time I love a new beginning. The excitement of what
lies ahead propels me on my way. This time is different. I am
struggling with the start, because I can't see the path. It is
difficult to start a journey if you don't know where you going.
Currently, faith is what is pushing me forward. It is pushing me to the
next class, the next assignment, the next thing to learn that I didn't
know I needed to learn. This not seeing the next step until I am there
is new and uncomfortable for me.<br />
<br />
How I got in this position.<br />
I have always been a learner, a doer, and adventurer. If there was
something I wanted to do, I set myself to learning and practiced new
skills until I could do it. Being an LDS woman allowed me the freedom
to explore what ever caught my fancy, but I have always felt the desire
to finish my college education. When the Pathway program opened in my
stake, I knew the time was right so I jumped in. I thought I would
finish school in the same direction I started. I love people and
places, language and literature so I thought I would be able to continue
on the humanities path I started as a teenager. I was wrong. I tried
and tried to work out a program that would keep me in the humanities
field of study but I could never get it to work. I never wanted to
consider anything in business. The more I tried to work out a plan, the
more the idea of looking at the business school would come to mind. I
continually pushed it away. Finally in frustration and desperation I
looked into studying business. It fell perfectly into place. I was
humbled. I should have been listening to the guidance the spirit was
trying to give me, but, I am stubborn. So, I put my faith in the Lord
and the way he was leading me and started my business studies. <br />
It isn't easy for me. It has been hard so far. In classes that say I
should spend 12-15 hours a week in study, I spend at least 20. I am not
afraid of work, it has value and I understand it, but usually I can
envision the end result of my work. At the moment, I cant see the end
other than finishing something I started a long time ago. I don't know
why the Lord has me here, I only know this is where He wants me.<br />
<br />
What I am doing about it.<br />
I keep doing my assignments, I keep signing up for more classes. I keep going. I keep trusting.<br />
I am trusting that as I develop a knew mind set and new skill sets that
the path will open up and I will be able to see. Until then, I cannot
sit still and I wont. I am proud of the things I have already learned
and I am looking forward to learning more. Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-10108654043478525432014-01-23T13:18:00.005-08:002014-01-23T13:27:35.077-08:00Inside My Head<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><u>Some of the thoughts in my head while I run with friends…</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9Xy-uVwbZYoisRSR3Mv1V2_vtiiJ1fj9f4Dvkyu1ZZQghVl9QqTr7gL9Gn983COcoda6vOG1P_-Zx3nPWce-VLf3dFv72RE3jgsBlWrn2mXwala1tcoZXSKneI4pe4ug458vSEG5040/s1600/run+silohuette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9Xy-uVwbZYoisRSR3Mv1V2_vtiiJ1fj9f4Dvkyu1ZZQghVl9QqTr7gL9Gn983COcoda6vOG1P_-Zx3nPWce-VLf3dFv72RE3jgsBlWrn2mXwala1tcoZXSKneI4pe4ug458vSEG5040/s1600/run+silohuette.jpg" height="131" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Shoes, check, keys check, got to get there. Don’t make them wait. Motivation high.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Keys stashed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Note to self…remember where you stashed your keys! Let’s go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Start moving, yes! This is going to be a great day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Earbud secured, best song ever.
Good thing too, everyone is quiet today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
…ugh…what was I thinking? Stop
it, the first mile is always the worst.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
No really, what <i>was</i> I
thinking? That it will be worth it, keep
going.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Susie tells the funniest stories about her kids. How many times has that
happened at our house? Family life, gotta love it. Laughter feels good…laugh, keep breathing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4 It’s
gotten too quiet, I am counting off the pace.
I am more intelligent than that…think about something. “Chartless by Emily Dickenson, I never saw the moor, I never saw the sea…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I wonder if Annie knows that what she said is insightful and profound, and Sally’s
answer is equally beautiful; both comments reflect testimony. Incredible women, strong women. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Note to self…discuss with daughters all the things I love about
these friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Keep the pace, stretch it out.
Do it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Unscientific observational experiment. Who is more likely to scoot over for us, male drivers, or female?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
So far, the men have it, and they slow down too. ... Is that because they want a better view?... </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Note to self...add the lingerie department to your list of errands, and buy that expensive industrial strength bra you were looking at!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Falling behind…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
No, that’s a lie. Truth is…not
quitting, motivation, determination, do it, breathe, keep moving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Breathe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Note to self…park at the bottom and do the hills first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Looking at friends. Easy view
from here. Wow, Sally has amazing
calves. Wish I could look like her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Wait, stop that! Name something,
anything. Eyelashes. I have naturally curled eyelashes and deep
brown eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Skip ahead on playlist to “Brown Eyed Girl”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Na na na na na na na na nanana ne-na! “Dance running”, it looks silly,
but feels so good! There are benefits to
being at the back of the pack!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Hey wow, I can see the end. 3
more street lights… 4 more mailboxes, 3, 2, 1…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Ah, did it. I am strong, I am
beautiful... Laughing…laughing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Stronger, I am getting stronger. I beat my time. (Seconds count, right?) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Make plans for the next run, and lunch on Thursday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Successful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Note to self…I am strong, I am fit, I am capable<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
… I am urgently in need of a shower!
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Motivation high. This is a great
day!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><u>My thoughts while walking on the tread mill...</u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
... ...,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
... ... ..., </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Running with friends is much more fun than this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
... ... ...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-78675276934084516002014-01-17T13:22:00.000-08:002014-01-17T13:22:22.173-08:00Teaching<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just so you know.
Sending my children to public school was not a decision made
lightly. It was a matter of prayer and
fasting, and continues to be so. It is not a matter of being lazy or
uncaring. I still teach them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I teach them things like virtues, manners, work ethics and
integrity. I teach them to love God and
to treat others with kindness. I teach
them how to handle situations from others whose parents don't teach these
things. Have there been times when
someone has not been nice? Of course,
but those times are few and my children have learned to find the strength and
ability within themselves to handle those times with grace. I teach them to
understand that the child or adult who was unkind is still learning too. I teach my children where to find strength
and courage within themselves to defend not only themselves, but others who may
feel weak. I teach them to understand
that real strength comes from God and so when they feel weak or scared, to
understand that God is not weak or scared and He is with them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> There are times when
the work at school is hard, or boring, or flat out wrong. I teach my child to work hard and to reap the
blessings that come from the law of the harvest. This law applies to so many areas of life
other than the garden; school success is just one of them. I teach my child that not everything they see
in the world is right or true. If there
is something discussed at school that is different from our beliefs, we compare
it to our beliefs. We discuss it, investigate it, and learn from it. I teach my child how to determine what truth
is and what it isn't by teaching them to pray and to follow the spirit. He is the teacher of truth regardless of
where things are learned, at home, at church or in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I teach my children through involvement in my community how
to shape our community. I teach my children
to make decisions about life and what will be best for them as an individual,
as a member of a family, and as a member of a community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I teach them to love
learning for learning's sake and that answers to some of life's biggest
questions can be found within the pages of a book and from those who have lived
the longest, those with grey hair and soft voices. I teach them that learning is a lifelong
adventure that doesn't end when you graduate or when you reach a specified age.
Experience teaches us, success teaches us and our failures teach us. We can
learn from others, be blessed by seeing other's victories and their mistakes
and bless others by allowing them to see our victories and failures. I teach them to celebrate success and growth
in themselves and in those around them and how to have compassion and grieve
for those who struggle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just so you know. I
teach them to understand that what works for us and our family may not be what
is best in another family. I have many
friends and family who have chosen to homeschool. My love and support goes out to them. Parenting is the hardest thing we have ever
done. We all are in the same place
here. We are doing the best we can for
the ones we love the most. God does not
teach me using the same methods he uses to teach you. He gives us different challenges and
different strengths to overcome those challenges. Let us, as parents, use His example in
teaching our children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Thank you to all who have participated in teaching my children. All of you, school teachers, Sunday school/primary teachers, coaches, neighbors, community leaders and family, please know I am grateful to you for your assistance in this big, beautiful, frustrating, rewarding, overwhelming and totally worth it job of teaching my children. I just wanted you to know.Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-10989145543153691892013-07-02T21:16:00.000-07:002013-07-02T21:16:21.743-07:00One True Sentence<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; margin-top: 1.12em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; margin-top: 1.12em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">"A Moveable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway was the subject of discussion at this month's book club. The book is autobiographical of his time while writing in Paris. When referring to his writing process, Hemingway says, "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." He then says to use that sentence to start your writing. This technique cuts out fluff and gets to the meat of the topic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">As part of the discussion, we participated in a writing exercise. We were given a few topics and we were to write one sentence about that topic. Then we returned to the original sentence and edited it by removing the following words: that, many, there, I and thing. We then took out any adverbs that could be replaced with a better verb choice. The exercise was hard but fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;"> One category was to write about yourself. "I am an L.D.S. woman." was my best sentence. It uses the word "I", but felt that it was needed. It is a declaration, and I thought rearranging it to remove "I" would lessens its impact. I wanted to claim the fullness of what an LDS woman is and can be. Now that I have had more time to think about it, I realize I could have said, "My values and personal characteristics are definded by the principles established by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints." This sounds fluffy to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;"> The problem with both of these sentences is the full meaning of the statement would be lost on anyone who wasn't also an LDS woman or member of the church. To the outsider it is too restrictive and only tells one part of my story. I haven't found the sentence yet to tell the full story without making a very boring list of the things I do, think and believe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;"> My next true sentence is, "Work must be done."</span></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-79826645110140799402013-07-02T21:11:00.000-07:002013-07-02T21:11:42.223-07:00Goal Setting<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">I am not a January 1st-New Year's Resolution type of girl. January doesn't fall at the beginning of anything for me other than a page on the calendar. It's not that I don't set goals for myself during this time, it's just that I prefer to do it at two other times during the year. These times are at the start of summer and at the start of the school year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">These are the times that I can implement changes not only for myself, but for my family as well. We try again to make sure the laundry is sorted in the laundry room every night and get back on the band wagon with our Family Home Evenings. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">One of the things I like to implement when school starts and when summer starts is new bedtimes. I love this. Summer is always great because of getting to stay up later and sleep in a little longer too, but it gets old pretty fast and I am always ready to get back to an earlier schedule for school.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">These times work well for me with my personal goals as well. For instance, I made a goal last year to get up and make breakfast for my child who attends early morning seminary. It was good for me to start with the school year because the sun was still up that early in the morning. If I had tried to start it in January, when it is so very dark in the morning, I do not think I would have been able to do it. I also like these times as I work on something that needs organizing around my home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">My personal goals are in the works at all times of the year. If I feel like there is an area I should be working on, I don't want to wait until some future date to start. Usually I feel excited about doing something new or accomplishing something that is hard for me, so I like to get right on it. I am one of those people that has to jump right into the cold water; if I hesitate, it isn't going to happen. It is the same thing when I am trying something new.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', times; font-size: 12pt;">There really isn't a best time of year to set goals, just better times for goals in different areas of my life.</span></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-46356329154011126842013-06-27T00:24:00.001-07:002013-06-27T00:24:54.767-07:00The Gift That Keeps On Giving<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; margin-top: 1.12em; padding: 0px;">
June is a good month for my husband and me. It’s my birthday month, and he loves Father’s Day. Some years those two celebrations fall on the same day. I love it when this happens. These are the years that our gift plays double duty; we get one gift that is for both of us. These gifts range from things like computers and cameras to evenings out for dinner. My favorite double gift has been the gas grill.</div>
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When I told my girlfriends what I had gotten for my birthday, they gasped. “That’s horrible! Are your feelings hurt?” I was shocked at their reactions. “No way!” I answered, “This is the gift that keeps on giving. Not only do I <i>not have to cook</i> on the nights he is grilling, but I get to <i>eat</i> what he skillfully prepares.” I would say this was a win-win situation, but honestly, I think I got the best end of this deal.</div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-47801105518650510572013-06-05T13:33:00.000-07:002013-06-05T13:33:18.298-07:00A Little Bit of Writing<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am currently in a writing class and I am really enjoying it. I thought I would share some of the things I have written lately. In this first essay we were instructed to write about something that most people do not see as beautiful, an overlooked beauty</span>.<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Old
Hands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
saw his twisted and scarred hand open, reach out, and take hers in its grasp. Her
hand was wrinkled with blue, bulging veins.
They are old hands, but they are hands filled with love, with strength
and with life. The years of these hands flashed before me like faded photographs
in a leather bound album.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> It’s the First date. The photograph
shows saddle shoes and a poodle skirt, wingtips and a bow tie. He is holding the door, and she the
popcorn. Their hands brush as she passes
by, and they smile. The next picture is near an altar. Standing shoulder to shoulder, their hands,
now enfolded, show the glint of gold and the commitment they have made to God
and to each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Turning the page, the biggest
picture is the first night home with their new child. They are seated side by side, their hands
interlaced under their precious bundle, their eyes unable to look away from the
heavenly gift they are holding. She
softly rubs her newborn’s skin while his fingers tremble under the weight of
new responsibility. A smaller photo on
the same page is the two of them walking away from the camera together, their
hands comfortably bound between them. In
his left hand he carries a bucket overflowing with potatoes, carrots and
onions. She balances, in her right, a
wicker basket of freshly folded, sun and wind dried laundry on her hip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
flip a few pages and stop to catch my breath.
They are at the bedside, close together, their hands hold the word of
God: grasping scriptures, turning the pages, seeking truth, and searching for
answers. The intimacy between them in this moment of prayer clutches my heart
and brings tears to my eyes. Those hands hold tight to each other, giving comfort
and strength as they pour out their souls to the Lord. There is no need to hear the words; the image
is felt more than seen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Again they appear beside each
other, hands clasped between them. They
use the other to wave at the back of a college bound car. There are tears, but they
quickly change to laughter. They stand
for a while, their heads tilted towards one another contemplating the life they
lived with their family. There is
satisfaction, contentment and pride in a job well done. This life is not over, just changed. They marvel at the future, of grandchildren,
of spreading the gospel, and of being together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The book closes and I am brought
again to the present. As he leads her forward, he squeezes her hand gently, and
she smiles. Their hands are grateful,
loving, and proud as they walk together to the front of the room and claim the
sweet intimacy in knowing, sharing and living a life together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A
tap on my shoulder pulls my sight away from the aged hands. A younger hand with familiar scars and
callouses reaches out to me. I place my
hand in his, and as we walk together I pray to receive the blessing of sharing
old hands.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This next essay was a love letter written to an object.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Dearest
Baldwin,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I didn’t know what I was missing
until you came into my life. Emotions,
thoughts and creativity were bubbling under the surface of my existence with no
outlet for expression. You were given to me as a gift from wise parents who
understood my need to develop a relationship with you. Do you feel objectified by that? I hope not.
You are an important part of my life. I want you to know that I have never
taken you for granted. I am aware of the
significant role you play for me in my mental, emotional and spiritual life. Thank
you for allowing me freedom to explore their gift without judgment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We have spent many hours together you
and I. Every one of those moments has
been a joy. If I had a year for each of
your 88 keys, it would not be long enough. I love the coolness of your ivory keys and the
smell of polish in your gleaming wood panels.
I love the shininess of your damper pedal where I rest my foot and feel
the reverberations of sound as we work together to make music. You are as
familiar to me as my own hands. The
spaces between your keys match the size of my hands perfectly. How did you do that? You have always been a comfortable fit even
as my body has grown and yours has stayed the same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Although I enjoy making music with you,
the time we are together is more than mere entertainment. Remember all those times when I needed to
escape from the world? You were
there. You have always been there. I
know I have not always been kind to you.
I have often been harsh as I have worked out my frustrations upon
you. You never seem bothered by
this. You just allowed me to be
physical, harsh and cruel until I wore out, calmed down and worked anger and
fear out of my system. You allowed me to
find perspective.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My favorite time with you is when we
pray together. As we make our prayer
music my spirit soars and I am elevated to higher plains. Through you I feel my savior’s love as He
takes the music we’ve created and breathes upon it, and returns it to us
fuller, richer and greater than the creation you and I made alone. I love your companionship as I commune with
Him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I have had to learn to share with others
the space you took in my heart and I am grateful to you for allowing me to do
this. As you have not begrudged me my
time with my family, I have not begrudged the time you spend with each of
them. I feel much of the same joy in the
relationships you have made with my children as I do in our own relationship.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Thank you for being a true friend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Jen<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This last essay was to be about a memory.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Evidence<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">John came through the door, set his lunch box down, took
me in his arms, and smiling, kissed me on the forehead. “It looks like you have had a good day,” he
said stifling a laugh. <span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">The day had been busy,
but was it good? </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I looked around our small living room at the "Kid" mess, the "Me" mess and smelled dinner cooking from the kitchen that had its own mess.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">The children had
awakened early, but happy. I waived my right to a shower and we spent the
morning playing together. There was a green marker lid under the table from
crafting cards to send to Grandma.</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">The
cards were beautifully designed with child drawings of hearts, and flowers, and
rainbows.</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Child script was punctuated
with smiley face stickers and kisses, and these expressions of love were
translated into small print at the bottom of the pages. There was a small
tantrum thrown when it was time to clean up so I covered my child’s face with
the stickers while singing, “When you see a frowny face, do not let it
stay…”</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">It worked.</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"></span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Thank you, Mommy, for singing my sad away. </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I will share my stickers with you.”</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">She placed one on my face; I kissed her eyes,
and she kissed my nose.</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">We were friends
again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">After lunch, I fixed hair and washed two small faces,
then we loaded into car seats and drove to the elementary school. The drop off circle was filled with moms
waiting to pick kids up, so we parked in a space near the teacher’s parking and
walked into school together. Her teacher
had been assigned to duties at the front door and she greeted us as we went
in. We made a small detour at the office
to pay for next week’s field trip, and at the library to return an overdue book. I kissed my big girl goodbye at the classroom
door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The toddler and I ran a few errands together: the bank,
the grocery store, the post office. We
had picked out pretty stamps with bright pink flowers on them for the letter to
grandma, and sent it off sealed with a kiss.
We made it home for a short nap before returning to the school, this
time early enough to use the pick-up circle.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At home, while I prepared dinner, the girls had been
entertaining themselves with blocks, dominoes, hair clips and an assortment of
Barbie dolls. The toy box was empty, the
whereabouts of the previous contents unknown.
The box was turned on its side and was being used to make a house for
Barbie and her friends. I smiled as I
looked at them remembering having done the same thing when I was small. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bringing my attention back to John, I said, “I suppose the
day has been alright, but why is that so funny?” He led me down the hall and turned me into
the bathroom. He flipped on the light and I saw
it reflected in the mirror. Directly in
the middle of my forehead was a bright purple smiley face sticker. I calmly
turned off the light, kissed my husband, and walked back to the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Aren’t you going to take it off?” he asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“No,” I said. “It looks like I’ve had a good
day!”</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-9772812129678575602012-10-14T19:44:00.000-07:002012-10-14T19:44:39.033-07:00My Son and the Priesthood<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVsUnqrkrG2DPIJgEE_BWuhAJi8N0qpUeoNs-_hcrDfwuAySoND6QCNSfaT8dmnmpaw1XRbOACz7J__NNPFGp3KngKfbf1FJKD4LVDdFnK5mJKatc0P4J0g3NXyuQIFOfNvj15gvD1j8/s1600/cole+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVsUnqrkrG2DPIJgEE_BWuhAJi8N0qpUeoNs-_hcrDfwuAySoND6QCNSfaT8dmnmpaw1XRbOACz7J__NNPFGp3KngKfbf1FJKD4LVDdFnK5mJKatc0P4J0g3NXyuQIFOfNvj15gvD1j8/s400/cole+2.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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My son is 13. It is a wonderful age. He is still young enough to be considered a boy but I am getting a glimpse of the man he will be. While he is still very much an active and rambunctious kid, he is also very kind and considerate of others. He is able to see where there are needs and to fill those needs without being asked. When John has to be away from home, he takes seriously his role as '"Man of the House." I often catch him checking the doors and windows before he goes to bed.<br />
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Recently there was an activity for the women at church. It was a full Saturday of crafts and gift making to prepare for Christmas. I was planning to bring the girls with me and John was out of town so I gave Cole a choice to stay home by himself for a few hours or he could come with us. He thought about it for a moment and then asked if some of the moms would have their small children there. I assured him there would be some and he said, "I'll go and help entertain the kids so their moms can participate." We all went and while we worked on crafts, Cole played with babies and toddlers. He saw that some of the crafts required sanding and knowing that would be difficult for me to do because of my hands, he took care of that job for me. As the activity began to wind down he began to clean up; taking tables down and putting chairs away. Then he got the giant industrial vacuum out and vacuumed the gymnasium for us.<br />
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Usually at these kinds of events there is at least one adult man there who holds the priesthood. This is for safety reasons and to administer to the women in an emergency. On this particular day there was no adult man there. Cole was the only priesthood holder present. Some would say he is only a deacon but I could feel him in the room. He wasn't by my side the whole time, but I could look up at any moment and see him from across the gym. He emanated the spirit and I was comforted by his presence. Others who were there have mentioned that they felt the same thing too. He may be young, but he is strong.<br />
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Today in church we had a lesson about the sacrament. The teacher did not have a picture of the last supper so we were asked to close our eyes and imagine the scene as she described it to us. My imagination was different from DaVinci as I saw the room full of people and I had to look over and between shoulders in order to see. I watched as the Lord blessed the bread, broke it and passed it to one of the apostles next to him. He then passed it to the next and so on down the table. I wondered if it would make it through the room to me as I felt small and unnoticed there. Then I saw these priesthood leaders hand the bread to my son who was standing at the end of the table with other young men his age. Those boys then spread out to give the sacrament to everyone who was there, including me.<br />
<br />
I often watch Cole passing the sacrament on Sunday. I have a great view from my perch at the organ. I feel pride while I watch him fulfilling his priesthood responsibilities. I love that he is preforming this service as a representative of the Lord to provide for me the opportunity to partake of the sacrament. Sometimes he catches me watching and he gives me a big smile. I don't know what all the Lord has planned for him but I pray he will be up for the challenge and I pray for guidance in teaching him the things he needs to know in order to do his job well. <br />
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<br />Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-48561003361196888112012-10-14T16:53:00.003-07:002012-10-14T16:53:45.015-07:00A Bit From Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Kids Down the Street" lawn mowing service invested in another mower. </div>
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This one was set up to fit Hailey just right.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBCQrb96CAoSil3yFfRRuOJx3lnIL502_dSvOOZOVd6iUle6M3wLdWjakOdf6zoxoz_kEVBOaWEy1c3gDSf4P-GTml7EUCQkYBW9L0onjGNlk35xLhuL8cW0K8xeW_bipf1h5WUXORDA/s1600/mower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBCQrb96CAoSil3yFfRRuOJx3lnIL502_dSvOOZOVd6iUle6M3wLdWjakOdf6zoxoz_kEVBOaWEy1c3gDSf4P-GTml7EUCQkYBW9L0onjGNlk35xLhuL8cW0K8xeW_bipf1h5WUXORDA/s320/mower.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Brrrr. Spring took forever to arrive!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VSRGmLBKsy5qNu0t09aSSC973wX6o3HBEfWTFDgq0g5uR-mxdFtSpHRWp6GJDEvOHXV-qCMOhPV5OtvTCAMf_LuQ-A5QRsPEHBVn5MBuR1uOlnyDnc35e7gGCkrBoG0P3JPkNU8jZUo/s1600/IMG_9917.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/AVvXsEi9VSRGmLBKsy5qNu0t09aSSC973wX6o3HBEfWTFDgq0g5uR-mxdFtSpHRWp6GJDEvOHXV-qCMOhPV5OtvTCAMf_LuQ-A5QRsPEHBVn5MBuR1uOlnyDnc35e7gGCkrBoG0P3JPkNU8jZUo/s320/IMG_9917.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Qo46GYk6xxVvR0A4ZNoACdxKnU_od_KDh-oN_zjLFUvZMOsIzCioMHxOE-j31B_P9xnkmrMATS8ORfwY16PXVoTnmBshR8y9nOoXWEwlpDUeQLxOOPDJDArbJP_W7TOkoQhpGiA82RA/s1600/IMG_9916.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/AVvXsEi-Qo46GYk6xxVvR0A4ZNoACdxKnU_od_KDh-oN_zjLFUvZMOsIzCioMHxOE-j31B_P9xnkmrMATS8ORfwY16PXVoTnmBshR8y9nOoXWEwlpDUeQLxOOPDJDArbJP_W7TOkoQhpGiA82RA/s320/IMG_9916.JPG" width="213" /></a> Our favorite summer/spring activity is to sit outside on the porch to watch the thunderstorms. It's always best when it happens in the middle of the night like this one. We get the kids out of bed, bundle up and get comfortable. It was the best show we've seen in a long time. (Left- Grammy and Hailey; Right-Brook and Cole)<br />
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<br />Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-72235234904908573852012-10-14T16:37:00.000-07:002012-10-14T19:46:10.964-07:00Rude Drivers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQ1i0AO8fiuTU64VSp8xbiSw3vb7vesjpen-F1HDhMqTs2PK_tAT7vK9bMsLRt5bDhaNlv4HO8E6zcO81pRYE4E9uRKtG7rmxjBJM13zq31pGXZq6dFqZYK8U5xZmyvHHun6iSqhROiM/s1600/...JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQ1i0AO8fiuTU64VSp8xbiSw3vb7vesjpen-F1HDhMqTs2PK_tAT7vK9bMsLRt5bDhaNlv4HO8E6zcO81pRYE4E9uRKtG7rmxjBJM13zq31pGXZq6dFqZYK8U5xZmyvHHun6iSqhROiM/s320/...JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
This is what happens when you get too close to a big rig, or he gets too close to you. It depends on who you believe. He hooked me with the lug nuts. It was scary but no one was hurt and my car still works. It's just not that attractive. In front of the tire, (on the left in the pic), is where he hit me with his lug nuts and then behind the tire, right, is where I hooked him trying to get away.)<br />
<br />Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-39201809290374249612012-09-12T14:38:00.000-07:002012-09-12T14:38:42.043-07:00Bowling with the Fam<div style="text-align: center;">Bowling with the family</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Summer started out great with some of John's family in town. Mom, two sisters and a niece came up for graduation and stayed a couple of days. Bowling was a fun way to pass the time together.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">This is my wonderful mother-in-law trying not to be smug at the win. She always wins. Always. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBhtcd-qYUgQx5mIA1DPR_vQh_86-fZtQwju7C_lCEa_uG241i6sg0GC24LfLyIRTtfS4srx8IzzfNLm8J3oufoW1nh4kLNtM8ukzTDM0jyg3eSTM6iKxm_5nDRJ0NGVfjHj7zmoHNOk/s1600/Bowling1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBhtcd-qYUgQx5mIA1DPR_vQh_86-fZtQwju7C_lCEa_uG241i6sg0GC24LfLyIRTtfS4srx8IzzfNLm8J3oufoW1nh4kLNtM8ukzTDM0jyg3eSTM6iKxm_5nDRJ0NGVfjHj7zmoHNOk/s320/Bowling1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">John's sister with our kids.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_mFoum3FsGHTdpTUZqEupF4ztXmVRjMYSD3ND4Vb1n6phE4XGI7drVmMG7-HsBvAuQRLf6yK9mzVNHZ_SJ5loBRfQUw9eOdmpyU96gewpNKcmlJ_raJcoAPctGeLuvKEIM4ERnLaYBU/s1600/Bowling2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_mFoum3FsGHTdpTUZqEupF4ztXmVRjMYSD3ND4Vb1n6phE4XGI7drVmMG7-HsBvAuQRLf6yK9mzVNHZ_SJ5loBRfQUw9eOdmpyU96gewpNKcmlJ_raJcoAPctGeLuvKEIM4ERnLaYBU/s320/Bowling2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Another of the sisters, Sierra, and my niece.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfRvioi9ekn6oKlotwggbjyYGNP3DPjOAS0RI0SrQKxR4_HN5Dj5QIATVRjK4VhWMOUaRV9fbOK4ANYmJvZQMFsGzr7hKQaFekmf5iiQnEFDytCbC5goAdVzrxwUNk6OZnqd3f1iAPJY/s1600/Bowling3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfRvioi9ekn6oKlotwggbjyYGNP3DPjOAS0RI0SrQKxR4_HN5Dj5QIATVRjK4VhWMOUaRV9fbOK4ANYmJvZQMFsGzr7hKQaFekmf5iiQnEFDytCbC5goAdVzrxwUNk6OZnqd3f1iAPJY/s320/Bowling3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Brook demonstrating the score. "X" Strike!</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sierra pointing behind her. "Did you see that?"</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX8RVeG5G19XmkpNfbcEuUwq5Frky1kdpzqWWZFjFHBlm0dZTXsOXOh72odv6isLXqQNTCJT9MjS5xQE1RTTvrY6FKAnZYJz_EWZU_QC-udGPhLmg9DfTAnBONxBEoJN97PtCrLufLb8/s1600/Bowling5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX8RVeG5G19XmkpNfbcEuUwq5Frky1kdpzqWWZFjFHBlm0dZTXsOXOh72odv6isLXqQNTCJT9MjS5xQE1RTTvrY6FKAnZYJz_EWZU_QC-udGPhLmg9DfTAnBONxBEoJN97PtCrLufLb8/s320/Bowling5.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hailey </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymg7IZkbW0tBIHY6WwCWeCUDOo2o-nYz_ngFZJY03eR7T4C2vjljKxM2EcwFc_t9TO97vvr90rJStU7x9QfuqHmVjGl-pUfz9cOho_oBtEMDq5kbbdaV64OGmP8F8yNViF8x-bXgioTE/s1600/Bowling6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymg7IZkbW0tBIHY6WwCWeCUDOo2o-nYz_ngFZJY03eR7T4C2vjljKxM2EcwFc_t9TO97vvr90rJStU7x9QfuqHmVjGl-pUfz9cOho_oBtEMDq5kbbdaV64OGmP8F8yNViF8x-bXgioTE/s320/Bowling6.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cole</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cute Jacque</div><br />
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Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-67798059548796676372012-09-11T11:23:00.000-07:002012-09-11T11:23:07.493-07:00Mental BloggingI am a mental blogger.<br />
Over and over again I find myself thinking of ideas and issues and composing what I would say, how I would say it if I was to write a blog post about it. It happens all the time. I was just emptying the dishwasher and writing (in my head) about the slant of the sunlight and how I love this time of year. It was beautifully written and insightful, (still in my head). I took pictures all summer long and every time I took one of those pictures I would compose a perfect description of the activity and the feelings I was having at the moment I looked through the lens. Feelings of my family time together, gratitude for my blessings, awe of the natural world, even irritation over some bad event or annoyance have been expressed in my heart and in my mind, but not here.<br />
I know that some of you get on this blog just to see pictures of my kids. I don't blame you. They are pretty neat kids. I also know I should have been blogging summer pictures during the summer. But I was having so much fun experiencing summer that I didn't do it so now it has become a huge project and I get bored with it easily. Another thing is that I feel very uncomfortable sometimes about what others might think of what I have written. I am afraid of being judged poorly and thought of as stupid. That is lame and juvenile, I know.<br />
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So here is what's up. <br />
1. I need to post pictures and tell of activities and the goings on of my family so that those family members who live far away can see them. It has been expressed to me that efforts in doing this are appreciated. This is important for my little family too as this has been a good place for me to keep our family history.<br />
2. I need an outlet. I need someplace to write what I am thinking. I need to "discuss" ideas and issues and ramble about non-important things that clutter my mind. (I cornered my mom yesterday when I know all she wanted to do was take a nap after working all day. The selfish one that is me still continued to talk and share ideas anyway. Then after the kids went to bed I cornered my husband and made him listen to me too! It was just one of those days.)<br />
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So here is what I want to do.<br />
1. I will continue to upload pictures of my family here. I will work harder at getting them posted in a more timely fashion. (notice I didn't say immediately.)<br />
2. I will also use this space as an outlet for my creative and thoughtful side. I will warn you if it is a blog of thought just in case you have experienced enough of my brain already and are saving your sanity by avoiding my insanity. <br />
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By the way, the sun was truly beautiful this morning as the dawn broke over the trees in my backyard and poured into my kitchen window. The house was quiet except for the random clinks and clatter of doing the dishes. It is not my favorite job by any means but today I could feel joy, love from my Heavenly Father, and gratitude for all he has given me. The loneliness and grief I have been feeling about my children leaving home was lifted for a few minutes and I felt good, I felt right, and I felt peace. I hope you feel some of this today too.Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-38438481312853944262012-07-27T23:39:00.002-07:002012-07-27T23:46:14.578-07:00Do-OverRecently I was asked how I felt about not having any more babies after Hailey. That sounds like a strange question but it was part of a conversation with a friend and something that for her has been heavy on her mind and heart. I wanted to comfort her, help her know her feelings were not unusual and find a way to tell her of things I have been learning. Really, I wanted to throw my arms around her but there were others around so I didn't. I wish I had been able to express my feelings better than I did. I answered with "I have mixed feelings," and then proceeded to ramble on making no sense I am sure. I would like a do over. This is what I would tell her.<br />
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After Robyn was born the doctors told me I would likely not have anymore children. I had mixed feelings. I was thrilled to have a babe in arms and heartbroken for the ones I thought I wouldn't hold. I was excited to share my life with that sweet little bundle and disappointed that my kitchen table would be small. I was proud to be raising a brilliant child and angry at the stupid people who made insensitive and ignorant comments. I was then amazed at the growth and eruption of personality from my daughter and sad that the time was passing so fast.<br />
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But then, medicine is not always an exact science.<br />
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There are now five children with three to four years between most of them. It just worked out that way. There is one that we didn't have to wait for and one who was a surprise. I did not expect the second, how could I have possibly expected number five? Looking back, I should have known she was coming. She fills up a spot in our family we truly would have missed without her. They all have been that way. I can't imagine my life without them. I know they are gifts. I am happy to make room for them at the table.<br />
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I think no matter how many children a mother has, if it is one or many, she is filled with mixed feelings. Joy, worry, pride, frustration, elation, and fatigue. That is the nature of motherhood. I never would have guessed that I could get so frustrated with some one whom I loved so much. Some say I gave up too much of myself to stay home and raise my kids. I say, "You weren't at home with us. You don't know what you are talking about." Sometimes I dream of the career I could have had, or the travel and glamour but those feeling are gone in a moment when I think of the life I have. Nothing is worth more to me than my time with my family. It hasn't been easy and I don't see that it really will get much easier. I do know that it is completely worth it. Have I given OF myself? Yes. Have I given UP myself? No Way! I have learned about myself, grown, developed and thrived as a mother.<br />
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So now as my children are getting older and leaving I am again filled with a mixture of emotion. There is a wonderful sense of freedom when the children can get in the car by themselves, but there are no more 2nd grade Mother's Day Tea Parties. I can go to the grocery store by myself, but I have long days alone while the kids are at school. My laundry basket is not as full with children gone from home, but there are fewer voices laughing with each other. There is less bickering but fewer hugs. I have more freedom to explore hobbies, education and other interests though I miss going to the park with the mothers who still have small children. <br />
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As my house is emptying I have often wished I had more children to keep it full, but my older kids would still be leaving and it would still hurt just as much. It is fun and satisfying to see them grow and accomplish so much and I am filled with gratitude for the privilege of being their mother. I am a better person having known them.<br />
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My kitchen table has a few empty seats on most days but I have had a glimpse of the future when this table is filled to overflowing as my children bring home spouses and children of their own. Being a grandmother will bring other mixtures of feeling I am sure, but I wouldn't miss it for the world!Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-83935494947968090852012-07-09T14:17:00.002-07:002012-07-09T14:19:23.350-07:00Water Damage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So clear back in January Brook woke me up in the wee hours of the morning to inform me "There is something going on with the ceiling downstairs." Seriously, that is how she said it. I didn't get a picture of the ceiling hanging down, frankly in my sleep stupor and anxiety to get the mess cleaned up I didn't even think about it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We don't know how long the ice-maker was leaking but I am just grateful it wasn't as bad as it could have been. (A few years ago a friend had a water problem while they were out of town. That was a houseowners nightmare, this was nothing in comparison.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We pulled up the floor under the stove and fridge. (I used this opportunity to clean along side the appliances and the cabinets beside them. It always amazes me how yucky those places can get.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyu8GqEhU2OgRF6o86idh_5rBLKcJDDXshJZ5TKCFvh9Vnx1MvnQQ5U1nbOG2dvb7RqWDLnnwq-6BkbiCLVTgviI_53stE5RG95MX5_WsRrET-J43XQoc3E-BR3xnPCRoaFqWbem_Mag/s1600/water+damage+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyu8GqEhU2OgRF6o86idh_5rBLKcJDDXshJZ5TKCFvh9Vnx1MvnQQ5U1nbOG2dvb7RqWDLnnwq-6BkbiCLVTgviI_53stE5RG95MX5_WsRrET-J43XQoc3E-BR3xnPCRoaFqWbem_Mag/s320/water+damage+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Took down the wet ceiling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nwN_nlaVawh7E0ZofxaJd0jwcDbzhXYjsIR8KCNlr-FubizpCypQHRVviJ9thJ_fLuinkOJCFL7TG82Jr6nA_3xv2HR2Y8t_4PYjsRymz140lgnmWQ94aChnMdcpc4l62rq1Tt2aTq4/s1600/water+damage+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nwN_nlaVawh7E0ZofxaJd0jwcDbzhXYjsIR8KCNlr-FubizpCypQHRVviJ9thJ_fLuinkOJCFL7TG82Jr6nA_3xv2HR2Y8t_4PYjsRymz140lgnmWQ94aChnMdcpc4l62rq1Tt2aTq4/s320/water+damage+3.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">( I wish I had a pretty office area. I try but my whole family uses this area and it doesn't stay looking nice for long. I just remind myself that I would rather have my family around than have a perfectly kept house.)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOXtvgVHk7Sab-5wM0PAL3ICR9OluMOaViLkR_J0H6FeU-SWqkBPTnFT4Svejhj4cDkhHosm9IhxuHJNqMvOO7Vyi6HUev2zlbCyxOMIn-e9l6UkumMRxvaR2yjVG95eQyb44gu7Fvc8/s1600/water+damage+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOXtvgVHk7Sab-5wM0PAL3ICR9OluMOaViLkR_J0H6FeU-SWqkBPTnFT4Svejhj4cDkhHosm9IhxuHJNqMvOO7Vyi6HUev2zlbCyxOMIn-e9l6UkumMRxvaR2yjVG95eQyb44gu7Fvc8/s320/water+damage+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and let it dry out using fans for a week or so. We were really very lucky that the damage was contained to a small area. We didn't have to take out the cabinet to dry it out or demolish the pantry wall. Having it open underneath in the family room did the trick.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRiLvX_Xr_L9renXDoWrZfoW2lx6WaP9sFQaMxR9KNfOvM_7e_gOCVAscXe7Ad1Wpt-_iTkv2nWC4VpD5xZhZFa6oh_Hye1MeUKsaa3AfTyqRITdmmPysFFpMeLAXGpqrIxFL3kb4WqAw/s1600/water+damage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRiLvX_Xr_L9renXDoWrZfoW2lx6WaP9sFQaMxR9KNfOvM_7e_gOCVAscXe7Ad1Wpt-_iTkv2nWC4VpD5xZhZFa6oh_Hye1MeUKsaa3AfTyqRITdmmPysFFpMeLAXGpqrIxFL3kb4WqAw/s320/water+damage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Everything upstairs was put back in order long ago, but there is still a gaping hole in the ceiling of the family room. It's been 6 months, I don't even notice it anymore. I realize that is not a good thing. The time to fix it is well overdue! And now that it is hot I am REALLY missing the icemaker- maybe I'll scoot on down to the Sonic and pick me up a bag of ice!</div>Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725204432247134484.post-67024968407144138492012-07-07T13:58:00.000-07:002012-07-07T13:58:51.274-07:00Graduation Day!Congratulations Brook!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">This is the dress she made for the occasion. It was made from a skirt - an idea she found on Pinterest. It turned out super cute!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBlIUcHh2mCiA3PqSw0lAm0JQNdtbqm3lnK79Y8n9rv_AkyePAY1ZF_2LAUU3hiOSVn4Xp-jobogc9DNf9olM2-gXk5OKvzg3kB7-E_J4kmwTRb0qL6u2eiycCWQOV19Ek91G4I5QaxU/s1600/IMG_9646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBlIUcHh2mCiA3PqSw0lAm0JQNdtbqm3lnK79Y8n9rv_AkyePAY1ZF_2LAUU3hiOSVn4Xp-jobogc9DNf9olM2-gXk5OKvzg3kB7-E_J4kmwTRb0qL6u2eiycCWQOV19Ek91G4I5QaxU/s400/IMG_9646.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Yeah!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7ymipLsjuLpC8uRtFZbXRnTEsWVIYFCqgtTHzLKlc-PWbfOug-eoG50ojyhZaeVXKa8hBvRd0WAl82Pks2igipT_i1MO5dzTySUtPxg_U1ZsexgwO2w7bHxYL9gKjxaIz6vBhBLyXow/s1600/IMG_9648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7ymipLsjuLpC8uRtFZbXRnTEsWVIYFCqgtTHzLKlc-PWbfOug-eoG50ojyhZaeVXKa8hBvRd0WAl82Pks2igipT_i1MO5dzTySUtPxg_U1ZsexgwO2w7bHxYL9gKjxaIz6vBhBLyXow/s400/IMG_9648.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">The next two pictures are from the slide show at the beginning of the evening. The first one is from the first day of Kindergarten and the second is her senior yearbook photo.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaI57wgFaUXg6UaIWc8IrwB4ymqK76ssCK68zAqPCb8brfxlqErVBeHuG_UkJjYk1mqDYt-graybboXmrll57MxDit3So02vhcy3bZ2h12Ze70WIOlwmhV2PW75o9kE7GElRnpjgPhO8/s1600/IMG_9662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaI57wgFaUXg6UaIWc8IrwB4ymqK76ssCK68zAqPCb8brfxlqErVBeHuG_UkJjYk1mqDYt-graybboXmrll57MxDit3So02vhcy3bZ2h12Ze70WIOlwmhV2PW75o9kE7GElRnpjgPhO8/s320/IMG_9662.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Proof it really happened!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRSeVwI_zFjph-W7bfpFHUbzaXkwVIeYj9TbrNDWZxTTGeN7wrihtdS3yUbcIxoSoY7BI1SZ24zMbCq3yjwaTzOpIo7EHZrQdPgVOUVxkcDkbZwEIfFLhy-TIfkXXhgwuytt0fFmkaQ0/s1600/IMG_9703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRSeVwI_zFjph-W7bfpFHUbzaXkwVIeYj9TbrNDWZxTTGeN7wrihtdS3yUbcIxoSoY7BI1SZ24zMbCq3yjwaTzOpIo7EHZrQdPgVOUVxkcDkbZwEIfFLhy-TIfkXXhgwuytt0fFmkaQ0/s320/IMG_9703.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Returning to her seat with her best friend Alex M. I love you girls and can't wait to see what you do next!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0gdnIbo88bYwZ9TYDkDgtrK8T4AfEPSAK7XaWKKyg_J7h6gb56HTDD5t_Z1jUXmCDqyCBWdAqyaOHRfs0HZisEqmI6iKLcYhU9ziUziA_XlYPBPiXavfMoN5aKVVUbTWPVhyphenhyphenHW3UuXU/s1600/IMG_9717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0gdnIbo88bYwZ9TYDkDgtrK8T4AfEPSAK7XaWKKyg_J7h6gb56HTDD5t_Z1jUXmCDqyCBWdAqyaOHRfs0HZisEqmI6iKLcYhU9ziUziA_XlYPBPiXavfMoN5aKVVUbTWPVhyphenhyphenHW3UuXU/s320/IMG_9717.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Tingey Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940098493769705029noreply@blogger.com0