tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81831988083689884422024-02-21T02:18:59.341-08:00My House of MonkeysAmy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-50382162598163332712012-05-17T11:36:00.002-07:002012-05-17T21:55:04.339-07:00BFF's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of the reasons we moved to Arizona was so our children would know Jen and Stan and their boys. Mission accomplished. They LOVE their cousins. This is Spring Break 2011 when we went to visit and enjoy the higher temps. They played lots of video games and we did an afternoon of Cold Stone and the splash pad in Glendale. We had a great time. But it made us miss them even more and reminded us how hard it would be when we moved to WA.</div>
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Not sure where he picked up this funny Popeye face, but he did it a lot that day. :)<br />
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Impossible to get a good pic with this many rambunctious boys!<br />
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One of THE biggest reasons I miss Arizona. I love this woman. She has been there for me so many times. And she always knows what to say. She has incredible insight into my children. She rescued me on an incredibly difficult parenting day. We have laughed together, complained together, cried together. And boy have we talked!!! Hours. She inspires me with her perspectives and her devotion to her faith and family. She has taught me to be a more deliberate parent and has helped me recognize strengths I didn't know I had. I miss her dearly. I have told her before that I don't consider her my sister in-law; she has been promoted to sister. Love you Jen. Can't wait for the Johnson reunion!<br />
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<br />Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-51973660954609692132012-05-17T11:15:00.001-07:002012-05-17T11:15:41.643-07:00My Protectors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No need to fear with Dad gone. We had ninjas (G.) and power rangers(K.) to protect us!<br />
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<br />Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-60438264283914460462012-05-17T11:12:00.001-07:002012-05-17T11:12:26.298-07:00Life is a Highway 2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Does this guy look thrilled to be racing in the Pinewood Derby!?! Yeah, because he's been talking about it since he was 5! A. knew right away that he wanted to make a car that looked like a snake and call it The Viper, hence the V in the logo. A. actually aspires to win the most creative car. This year, he pulled it off! :)<br />
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I attended the activity to carve the car, since Andy was gone. Luckily, A.'s awesome cub scoutmaster helped him cut it. I helped him sand it off. Then Andy worked on it on the weekends to get it done. A. was really pleased with how it turned out. He even entered it in the county fair in the scout division and won a first place ribbon.<br />
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<br />Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-43004696650692656172012-05-17T10:57:00.000-07:002012-05-17T10:57:03.904-07:00Explaining Reality, with Fantasy...<div style="color: #45818e;">
This was a draft from spring of 2011 that I never posted:</div>
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A. asked me the other day why we can't just have peace in the world. I inhaled. Then I explained that just like in superhero cartoons and comic books, there are people that want to be the most powerful or have the most money. So there will be fighting and war.<br />
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So maybe too many superheroes at our house is a good thing. I can explain the unexplainable and maybe it helps my children to hold onto the belief that Good will win out over Evil. Too bad that an eight year-old, who only hears snippets of current events, has to ask.Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-26575420224198845412012-05-17T10:54:00.000-07:002012-05-17T10:58:22.764-07:00Hard DaysDisclaimer: This post will be purposely vague. I am going through something right now that can't be shared publicly in cyberspace. But it's so hard. And I feel so alone. And I can't explain. But I need to share... vaguely. I'm sorry.<br />
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Some of you know what it is. I wish I could tell you all. No one is sick. We all will survive it. And our family is united. But there is no end in sight. And I feel weak. And the tears flow often. And I can't wait until it's a distant memory.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">One of my friends on Facebook recently made a post that said this... "Trying to live in knowing that everything is (God's) plan A even when it's our plan B." That's what I am trying to do. Trying to trust Him. But I am weary. I wonder when will I have learned enough. I keep thinking that when this is all sorted out, I will be relieved that it worked out the way it did. You know, like that guy you thought was the "love of your life" was really a bullet you dodged.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And I realize that I don't want anyone else's problems. I know that LOTS of people are going through harder things. Lots of people that I know and love. I am just weary. I am trying not to murmur. Trying not to lose faith. I've always been the one that totally believed everything always works out. For the best. But as time goes on, silver lining is hard to find.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">The draft of a post about when Andy was in Tucson and we were miserable, when things were chaotic with wondering if the purchase would go through. This post is truth. Vague, because it had to be. But truth. And we got through it. Thank goodness...</span> </span>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-11499088428227195422012-05-17T10:50:00.001-07:002012-05-17T10:50:06.637-07:00The Missing Months- Science Fair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When Andy was in Tucson, his weekends were precious hours. I swear there were a thousand projects. A. had the science fair, a poster to make for the Cub Scout Blue and Gold Banquet, a Pinewood Derby car... I'm probably forgetting something. Andy would come home and we would get started on all the things he needed to help me with. One day G. came home from school and said that they were supposed to dress up as Dr. Seuss characters for Dr. Seuss Day. All I could do was laugh, because otherwise I would cry. There was no way I could take on another project.<br />
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Andy suggested that A. do a science fair project about equal and opposite reaction using a u-shaped ramp and a Hot Wheel car. We did all the preparatory parts of the assignment. When it came down to the experiment, it didn't really work. So the night before the data was due, I called him in his hotel room freaking out. We changed the experiment to make a pendulum and it worked out just fine. But whew, I didn't need more stress. I told A. that this year we weren't going for any awards; just to finish, since we were in survival mode. He seemed to understand.<br />
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This is A.'s Valentine envelope that he made. I really liked his creativity. :)Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-68786678708694199472011-10-05T09:47:00.001-07:002011-10-05T09:47:07.197-07:00Catching UpI am trying to catch up, so if you are checking my blog, there may be several posts at a time that are new. :)Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-63948230042309572252011-10-05T09:45:00.000-07:002011-10-05T09:45:44.227-07:00Proud of A.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A. works really hard at school in fact he considers math and reading some of his talents. Every quarter we lived in Prescott, AZ he got all A's on his report card. At his school, that puts you on the Principal's List and you receive a dog tag each time. We were really proud of him. He is a wonderful brother and son. :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3c1K54N2D1OJ60kNpQJ_S_oTFe42Nx4rlNpPxB2qUq8q1r30A9nDkG6KuhM4ZRIN8By37H-wuAfZ4xuDEJO1JQnHFsffiia-jZuYPR8yWOgjafPBM5yKZDMwzJ_d-VDoASn_gwG1sS0/s1600/IMG_0599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3c1K54N2D1OJ60kNpQJ_S_oTFe42Nx4rlNpPxB2qUq8q1r30A9nDkG6KuhM4ZRIN8By37H-wuAfZ4xuDEJO1JQnHFsffiia-jZuYPR8yWOgjafPBM5yKZDMwzJ_d-VDoASn_gwG1sS0/s320/IMG_0599.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSs4iEUX7Sf3m5iJhUWLREBhc4oieX72__vwuIvbfa5DA52zUwW9lh5ElWktP0aWrtvpy6djoj1CKntjuQVIkg_tE-hnqGVo202CzDzlLy_tNl6R0hpIAnoxU3aQddvKfje0NVxJTXvQ/s1600/IMG_0602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSs4iEUX7Sf3m5iJhUWLREBhc4oieX72__vwuIvbfa5DA52zUwW9lh5ElWktP0aWrtvpy6djoj1CKntjuQVIkg_tE-hnqGVo202CzDzlLy_tNl6R0hpIAnoxU3aQddvKfje0NVxJTXvQ/s320/IMG_0602.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-81272602751879581512011-10-05T09:34:00.000-07:002011-10-05T09:34:51.223-07:00Finally! Owners- Finally Posted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I need to get back into the habit of blogging. When Andy was commuting, I learned to be pretty private about what was going on. But now, I need to get back to documenting our lives. :)<br />
<br />
Andy came to Wenatchee, WA in December to check out a dental practice. Andy always had strong opinions about any practice he went to visit. I was stunned that he came home with no "drawbacks" about this one.<br />
<br />
We prayed and pondered. We researched. The broker was concerned that maybe once I saw Wenatchee, I would halt the sale. I told Andy to assure him that I thought Wenatchee was a wonderful place and that when I was a girl, it was the "big city". :)<br />
<br />
In the end, some things happened that made us feel that the Lord had answered our prayers. We felt good about buying this practice. After six months, the purchase went through and we moved back to Washington the beginning of May. We are learning a lot as business owners, like for one... I am a business owner too, even though I know little about dentistry. We have already had to hire an employee and have jumped right into marketing. I am excited for Andy to run it the way he wants, rather than be someone else's employee. It's definitely a new chapter in our lives. It's stretching us because it's all so new. But we will get it. <br />
<br />
Check out his web page...<br />
<a href="http://www.eastwenatcheedentist.com/">http://www.eastwenatcheedentist.com</a><br />
<br />
And here he's in the newspaper...<br />
<a href="http://www.wenatcheeworld.com/weblogs/everyday-business/2011/jul/13/dentist-opens-new-practice/">http://www.wenatcheeworld.com/weblogs/everyday-business/2011/jul/13/dentist-opens-new-practice/</a><br />
<br />
And I am loving being closer to my family. A few times, we have just gone over to my parents' house for dinner for no good reason, other than to see them. Yay. :)Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-13129551316952455522011-06-15T21:10:00.000-07:002011-07-26T09:47:53.905-07:00K. Keeps Me Laughing: UpdatedThe other day K. put on his tennis shoe all by himself. I said, "Really? You did it all by yourself?" And he said, "See, I TOLD you I was awesome!" We are also working on potty-training. (Yay!) I heard him "tinkling" in the other room and I called to him to acknowledge that he was "going". He called back and said, "Yeah, it's me. It's the one that's three!"<br />
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Here are some more "Funnies" from July:<br />
<br />
K. asks HUGE questions. He prefaces them with, "I have a question..." and then asks things like "How come the Earth and Sun and Moon don't fall down?" or "How does an engine make the car go?" I'm a little overwhelmed when my three year-old asks me some of these.<br />
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We went to a magic show at the library the other day. The magician did a trick where he told the kids that he had a dog in his bag and it ended up being a plastic hot dog. K. made the other moms laugh when he said, "No, that's not a hot dog. That's a sausage. It doesn't have any bread and it doesn't have any sauce."<br />
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Last night, K. was watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse when he observed, "Doesn't Mickey Mouse only have pants and he doesn't have any shirts? He didn't buy any shirts." I said, "Yeah, and have you ever noticed that Donald Duck only has a shirt and never wears pants?" K. answered, "That would be naked too. Only a little naked."Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-87339440755605403162011-05-14T13:48:00.000-07:002011-05-14T13:48:51.419-07:00BacktrackingSo many things have gone on this year that I haven't divulged on cyberspace because it wasn't the right time. Family and local friends were aware, but there were things I couldn't even share on Facebook. Months went by that I felt like I didn't have anything to "say" online. But now, I'm comin' clean.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Back in January, Andy's office was flooded by a broken pipe. There weren't enough dental chairs for him to use so the owners suggested he commute to Tucson~ a four hour drive from our home. They had an office there that they were trying to find a dentist for, but they would let him work there instead until the repairs were complete. They would pay for his hotel and his gas. He would leave around 6:00 Sunday night and get home around midnight Thursday. For a while, they had him work Fridays here to keep up with his local patients.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We were grateful for the job opportunity, mostly because we had been terrified they would just tell him he wouldn't be able to work until the repairs were done... And how long would that be? But we also felt like we had little choice in the matter. We had bills to pay. </div><div><br />
</div><div>To be honest, both Andy and I were devastated about being apart. We hoped it would be a month or so, but knew that we had no idea what we were really signing up for. I cried off and on the entire week before they made all the arrangements for his commute. I ached for my boys that would be without a dad all week long. I complained internally that I was going to be a single parent and that everything would be my responsibility. And Andy knew how horribly he would miss us.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After Andy was there for six weeks, he was asked if he would be willing to do it until June. They didn't think they were going to be able to find anyone to hire permanently until the summer. Why that was our problem, I don't really know. Six months is a long time for a three year-old, so I was hoping that somehow we could finish before then. (He worked there for 13 entire weeks and 2 half weeks before he quit his job with them. The repairs were complete long before the end, but they couldn't find someone to replace him in Tucson. A new guy started the last week. The office manager thanked Andy on the last day because she said that the staff there wouldn't have had a job those many months had he not come. My next post will explain our next adventure...)<br />
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</div><div>Andy hated the monotony of a hotel room. His body didn't do well eating fast or frozen food every night. Andy's toe started going numb, probably from the long drives. And I swear, there was a truckload of major projects that had to be squeezed into precious weekend hours... a pinewood derby car, a science fair project, a poster about "me" for A... When the boys came home from school and told me they could dress up for Dr. Suess Day, I laughed. Not happening this year, boys.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Andy would come home on the weekends exhausted from driving. He would have a thousand things to do around the house and try to give the boys some fun time. I would mentally tick off how many hours were left before he had to leave again.</div><div><br />
</div><div>For the safety of my family, I didn't really want to tell everyone that I was home alone with three boys all week long. So I couldn't reach out online for support. I'll be honest... it was very lonely. Luckily, we survived it. And now, I can tell you. Now that my family is together. We are very happy about that. :)</div><div><br />
</div><div>I am grateful for my Mom that would call every Sunday night to comfort me. It was like she knew how much I needed her. I am grateful for cell phones that I could call Andy every night. I am grateful for prayer that would help me feel more safe, confident in myself, and our family feel more unified despite the miles that separated us. I am grateful for sisters that would listen to me cry and complain on the phone, so many times. I am grateful for friends that helped me mentally survive it. It was truly one of the hardest things I have ever done. And I don't want to ever do it again.</div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-35031759815294749012011-04-21T21:14:00.000-07:002011-04-21T21:16:49.064-07:00"And Jesus Was Alive Again!"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUokKpwNxAPfz1mgO676Uyl-oFDh-Lm9CfqSeqcXiuvyblWDfPBzyuQG4YWrcLbLKZzExtrRurLSPhKMXAnysYIEdw9McYrTWwhqSSFvsMIhbP_wMpxUt1QD6dZjx0tTFQSRt8iIfNXw/s1600/ArtBook__059_059__MaryAndTheResurrectedJesusChrist____.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUokKpwNxAPfz1mgO676Uyl-oFDh-Lm9CfqSeqcXiuvyblWDfPBzyuQG4YWrcLbLKZzExtrRurLSPhKMXAnysYIEdw9McYrTWwhqSSFvsMIhbP_wMpxUt1QD6dZjx0tTFQSRt8iIfNXw/s320/ArtBook__059_059__MaryAndTheResurrectedJesusChrist____.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">My Easter post to the church newsletter.</span><br />
<br />
When A. was a toddler, we taught him about the resurrection for our Easter Family Home Evening. He learned it well enough that he would repeatedly tell the story. My favorite part was when he would get to the end. He would throw his arms up in the air and joyfully exclaim, "And Jesus was alive again!" It amused me that he was so excited about it. Typically we are reverent and reflective about the events of that Easter morning, but perhaps we neglect to recognize the joy we surely felt as we rejoiced on that day. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We chose our Heavenly Father's plan in the council in the pre-earth life. We voted, trusting that our brother, Jesus Christ, would do what He said He would do. Everything rested on Him going through with His part of the plan. We must have known Him well enough to put all our faith in Him. Jesus did fulfill His role in the plan; Jesus did what we entrusted him to do. He paid for our sins and then He rose after three days in the tomb, conquering death. President Hinckley said, "<span class="apple-style-span">Easter morning...is the Lord’s day, when we celebrate the <u>greatest victory</u> of all time, the victory over death." (April '96 conference, emphasis added) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span">Jesus made it so we are not subject to the grave. There IS life after this earthly existence. All of us will one day have our bodies reunited with our spirits and have the opportunity to live again in our Father's presence. Maybe we should feel the exclamation of joy in our hearts whenever we think about that momentous morning when "Jesus was alive again!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"He is risen! He is risen! Tell it out with joyful voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He has burst his three days' prison. Let the whole wide earth rejoice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Death is conquered. Man is free. Christ has won the victory!" (Hymn #199)</span></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-60162757778512212892011-03-13T19:20:00.000-07:002011-03-13T19:20:26.176-07:00High HopesConversation with 3 year old K. at Red Robin while everyone else was in the bathroom...<br />
<br />
K.: I want $10.<br />
Me: You have $14. (allowance)<br />
K.: But I want $10.<br />
Me: $14 is MORE than $10.<br />
K.: Actually, I want 100 million.<br />
Me: Well I can't help you with that. You're gonna have to get a job.<br />
K.: OK, I'll get a job.<br />
<br />
Should I hope that he sends some of it my way? ;)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8_2xDFfwgVNFBdWZ6PiTyby2eRTR4LVMBz8163kFLXFMF1rTukGvzW_W8hvh4lrEqAabvtT4Hw9zAWE0eOXICLbxCnRuhmQy0sP20MVFidSth88XKEzx_fphVArHHIWzWmP-Id-nnNw/s1600/IMG_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8_2xDFfwgVNFBdWZ6PiTyby2eRTR4LVMBz8163kFLXFMF1rTukGvzW_W8hvh4lrEqAabvtT4Hw9zAWE0eOXICLbxCnRuhmQy0sP20MVFidSth88XKEzx_fphVArHHIWzWmP-Id-nnNw/s320/IMG_0021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-5046421064729393032011-03-09T09:17:00.000-08:002011-03-09T09:17:07.417-08:00Spoiled Plans and Probably Too Much Exposure to Superheroes<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4JTry-ESiIgLY9uztN9DekStaJSeq7PEdyeQ982OXdeAsvu_O-wwhGKDbXE3ycwX8JDkAwQ-bM6wN9-mLNr31eBCq6YnKBqDt-D8o2Z2gbGYLmq3uyekXd28MpJRv-kNKH0XcFkbg2A/s1600/IMG_0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4JTry-ESiIgLY9uztN9DekStaJSeq7PEdyeQ982OXdeAsvu_O-wwhGKDbXE3ycwX8JDkAwQ-bM6wN9-mLNr31eBCq6YnKBqDt-D8o2Z2gbGYLmq3uyekXd28MpJRv-kNKH0XcFkbg2A/s320/IMG_0626.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">K. and G. playing in the snow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>G. walked by A. and attempted to give him a wedgie. G. has this fascination with wedgies. I told him not to do it and that no one likes wedgies. He disappeared for a few minutes and then delivered this note to me.<br />
<br />
unedited<br />
From A.<br />
to Amy<br />
I A. love Weges<br />
Ples Haf G. giv me it<br />
<br />
<br />
I told him that I knew this note was not from A. He asked me how I knew. First off, A. never left the room and A.'s name was misspelled. G. says, "Oh man, my plans always get foiled..."Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-56603147586005781362011-02-14T21:12:00.000-08:002011-02-14T21:12:49.537-08:00I'd Choose Him Every Time<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXse_wOXRbkX3_eHec3EhobXz8u36sBaDXdO_nI31CRWLG7Kl1lyy6p0AJlSVYBgxyh7qHbnprn3FVgXpMSCO-ZB_5SbwwbpAPtSRQdj64k0pRNnk5NJHZoen-UVeh7ErF8nMBbncTLv0/s1600/engagement+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXse_wOXRbkX3_eHec3EhobXz8u36sBaDXdO_nI31CRWLG7Kl1lyy6p0AJlSVYBgxyh7qHbnprn3FVgXpMSCO-ZB_5SbwwbpAPtSRQdj64k0pRNnk5NJHZoen-UVeh7ErF8nMBbncTLv0/s320/engagement+photo.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">engagement photo 1997</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I met Andy at the first church activity freshman year at BYU. I was asking boys to sign up for the ballroom dance class I was taking. I was surprised that he said yes and actually signed up. He was really careful not to dance with me too often, lest I would think he took the class because he was interested in me. LOL I got a B+ on the Cha Cha test that I danced with him. My mom thought we should get married though because he was from Illinois where her family lives and we could have a reception out there. I told her that was a silly reason to marry someone. We were just friends, but I gave him a picture at the end of the year. And he left on his mission.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fast-forward a few years. Andy was back. We took a class together and I started crushing on him. He went home for the summer and I hoped that having a newish car would give him reason to come around. Then over the summer I got engaged to another guy. And then when the new school year started, it started to unravel. I was crushed. I told my roommate that if it ended, the only one that could make me laugh again, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">feel good about myself again was Andy. She told me that it sounded like I needed him now. But I was engaged and it didn't seem right. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So fast-forward through all that mess... We got together a few months after I ended my engagement. And married 8 months after that. And he did make me laugh again (no surprise to anyone that knows Andy) and he did make me feel good about myself again. And I'd choose him every time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We have been through lots of jobs, lots of adventures (good and bad), four states, four cars, two apartments, four homes, three wiggly boys. He's my best friend and we can still stay up too late talking. He "gets" me like no one else. He believes in me. And no matter what we face, doing it together is the best part. And he still makes me laugh. </span>And I'd choose him every time. Happy Valentines' Day Andy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">P.S. I scored the jackpot when I married into the Johnson family. They are great people~ inspiring, loving people. I appreciate all the time I get to share with them. It's been the ultimate blessing to call them family and to have them spend time with our boys.</span></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-43385609021038520062011-02-12T11:54:00.000-08:002011-02-12T12:00:41.666-08:00Indulgence or Gluttony? ;)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_UiToObG9cNidDXoWq7SAqZxyRidUiSOuYPRFsNsgOqmM2D-jZx27LpQgTz9BLBTt8DpspWO8ZhRHmnD1A1f5IX3LlkX0TOuemxBESA120vxJ9dJF13Ru4pSL9PIP-rf31jo2xc496w/s1600/IMG_0499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_UiToObG9cNidDXoWq7SAqZxyRidUiSOuYPRFsNsgOqmM2D-jZx27LpQgTz9BLBTt8DpspWO8ZhRHmnD1A1f5IX3LlkX0TOuemxBESA120vxJ9dJF13Ru4pSL9PIP-rf31jo2xc496w/s320/IMG_0499.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRwaBuKl4TN_clVNAC23kEY04OFYKgYscyX6RZDdBx7SRZz6OLhOzFbPYcOLhJfHe4ikrKTzrs_dGWerXBtxQ03ofYTi7oD1qmf3DCYYb44o3XLORz_Sp6WAYkeGcq-48HUcAJ7mFd-c/s1600/IMG_0490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRwaBuKl4TN_clVNAC23kEY04OFYKgYscyX6RZDdBx7SRZz6OLhOzFbPYcOLhJfHe4ikrKTzrs_dGWerXBtxQ03ofYTi7oD1qmf3DCYYb44o3XLORz_Sp6WAYkeGcq-48HUcAJ7mFd-c/s320/IMG_0490.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2eR9IY806IwjhffxW6pKF-Ws-YzYHXAw4nFtaEvB6qGm6k3mZIGZaXF88ye4vIk_e0bXBY0PNX5Wu3yW66GJoBhs7UI5c2T603vsHJtqqK3tCFrV9_awtzIdSUNY6UdSY1ozWnyPH1c/s1600/IMG_0493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2eR9IY806IwjhffxW6pKF-Ws-YzYHXAw4nFtaEvB6qGm6k3mZIGZaXF88ye4vIk_e0bXBY0PNX5Wu3yW66GJoBhs7UI5c2T603vsHJtqqK3tCFrV9_awtzIdSUNY6UdSY1ozWnyPH1c/s320/IMG_0493.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I was working at the computer today and I hear this little voice say, "I'm sorry." And I realize that a little head is peeking around the corner. So what was he sorry for??? I asked and he said, "I'm sorry. I ate all 4 of them."<br />
<br />
Then it made sense. About 20 minutes before, K. had asked for some vanilla Oreos. (one of my favs...) I told him that he could have TWO. He pulled out 4- 2 for him, 2 for G. But G. was too busy cutting out a paper snowflake to even respond when they were offered. So K. left the room to put them back. And I thought it was all over...<br />
<br />
Until "Honest Abe" admitted his disobedience. Guess he just couldn't help himself. LOL<br />
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I guess if this is as bad as my boys get, I'm a pretty lucky Mom.Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-48421796064416400112011-02-05T11:51:00.000-08:002011-02-05T11:51:45.818-08:003 Moments1. G. did something the other day that could have required a repairman. When I explained that to him and asked him what he was thinking (!?!) , he said, "I'm sorry, and by that, I mean I'm REALLY sorry." Luckily, so far, no repairman required. Sending up my gratitude.<br />
<br />
2. K. told me the other day that the next time it was a "snowy wonderland" we should make a snowman. I love the outlook of children.<br />
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3. The other day I was by myself, thanks to a wonderful sister in-law that was watching my kids. I chuckled inside when digging through my purse,I found these:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3rJ3j9YzkHqJIyxO65xjwtyVzRbgKf1gDKkbpbBSUY6tOfo51xpHl0IKML47h6VKgVe8k4ooGgUiYT0xucyyUt2rpu5lf5cJF_TwotGhzGBpK1Rp-nb0wRxCJEw9D9XOD2DNbUI1h1c/s1600/four+wheeler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3rJ3j9YzkHqJIyxO65xjwtyVzRbgKf1gDKkbpbBSUY6tOfo51xpHl0IKML47h6VKgVe8k4ooGgUiYT0xucyyUt2rpu5lf5cJF_TwotGhzGBpK1Rp-nb0wRxCJEw9D9XOD2DNbUI1h1c/s200/four+wheeler.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVijr3rvTc7Wx2186TuvlqZcsx780IsvXNpZfcXXKcLYo52rhZxcubVG3JFANSV-MtZPFMfHmHunB4xObORQW6uEVQCAsDLah8_qggqAe1R9WWTCu887r_xMHtUDCJiMg6Cmf-kJmj52c/s1600/mighty+bean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVijr3rvTc7Wx2186TuvlqZcsx780IsvXNpZfcXXKcLYo52rhZxcubVG3JFANSV-MtZPFMfHmHunB4xObORQW6uEVQCAsDLah8_qggqAe1R9WWTCu887r_xMHtUDCJiMg6Cmf-kJmj52c/s200/mighty+bean.jpg" width="95" /></a></div>Usually they fit right in with my wallet, tube of lip gloss, and tin of mints. I am a mom of boys. I keep toys in my purse for boredom emergencies. But at this moment, when I was taking a break from my usual life, it made me laugh at the reminder that across town were my three boys. :)Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-60455164792450915862011-01-25T09:36:00.000-08:002011-01-25T09:37:00.378-08:00The Aftermath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt7Z9faBG2uFoNkxVQDbqoxO-RS9KokT3tGKi90vDruuc1NSlgHLuPSIJlBRZDxoPIexTv2bGwq-u1A32YT4cPEM7hhKL55uSM5FNMkW3OCiXNtHmjRp0ies0hrL4I4kcM5RXo-1Y_jE/s1600/IMG_0588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt7Z9faBG2uFoNkxVQDbqoxO-RS9KokT3tGKi90vDruuc1NSlgHLuPSIJlBRZDxoPIexTv2bGwq-u1A32YT4cPEM7hhKL55uSM5FNMkW3OCiXNtHmjRp0ies0hrL4I4kcM5RXo-1Y_jE/s320/IMG_0588.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, that's what it looks like. A box of peach jello. A box of cherry jello. A box of pistachio pudding. A box of chocolate pudding. And three (count them THREE) boxes of vanilla pudding. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKeQFnpJv-5Xl6Xum9nAD-MpLht1b6jNOGT0ysYx6f7TGFRYI2Y5YbGJr1ZKkIpYqW_AR4Xk1b8vODvrLsME_nwZ3LNcaesj97ofmBigbJRgxoQB_po5nfyYJX1ZMAJYslUMnVk5zUrU/s1600/IMG_0591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKeQFnpJv-5Xl6Xum9nAD-MpLht1b6jNOGT0ysYx6f7TGFRYI2Y5YbGJr1ZKkIpYqW_AR4Xk1b8vODvrLsME_nwZ3LNcaesj97ofmBigbJRgxoQB_po5nfyYJX1ZMAJYslUMnVk5zUrU/s320/IMG_0591.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And this is the bowl that had all that powder mixed with water from the bathroom sink that was carried (dripping all the way, on tile at least) to the kitchen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">G. almost lost his life... And there is a Mommy that needs to repent from thinking such horrible thoughts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is being recorded, not to embarrass G., but to record it for memory's sake. And so I can remember to tell it to his future wife so she knows why her kids do similar things... Because I wished it on their dad... ;)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So she won't feel like a horrible mother when she thinks impatient thoughts when it happens with her own kids. Because stuff like this happens to all mothers. And it isn't our finest hour. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, later on this day, G. went to a friend's house to be babysat while I took A. to get started on his Pinewood Derby car. G. told me afterward that he saw some T-rated video games that looked really cool, but he didn't play them because he knew that it was against our family rules. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So far, we haven't allowed any T games in our home. Of course when G. was 3 and he LOVED Spiderman, we had a long-winded argument on the way home from Target when I wouldn't let him get a T-rated Spiderman game. I told him that I wouldn't allow that in my house because it might have bad words. (I had recently bought a Spiderman cartoon DVD that had some mild SWEAR words. I was horrified!) G. told me he liked swear words and I was so mean. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with my toddler!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was so proud that G. had made a good choice even though no one was there to see him make it. We talked about "integrity" on the way home. Could this be the same child that had made "Jello/Pudding" water!?! (And the babysitting mom said that the "T" he was talking about was the T for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not the rating... lol)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One more story about G.:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He really wanted a red pencil to mark the scriptures we gave him for Christmas. I wasn't sure what he would mark, but OK, sure. The other day, we were looking at a verse that I thought would mean something to him. He pulled out his pencil and started marking words that he felt were important: Lord, commandments... Then he underlines "children" and says "that's important, huh Mom?" I was so touched that I got a little misty. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He's such a great kid. He just has crazy ideas sometimes. LOL</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-26971622889737634662010-12-31T10:45:00.000-08:002010-12-31T10:45:53.747-08:00You Have To Get Creative<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyWA7GRZMyu-oONlXWOmYk0ztTjtM-YXfRD9BpuozAxsaJN1KPwGfyaQZfNQPFLs4i7UcmaSEewXY-QIHWgTw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQITroCoLvYvbeTT4etORhj-IUFkow2Zsm_aiMD5OpZKbO8td-Pb4GXcYLwI5HD-KJx-c6iwhvaKHc_5S1o1MQtqRt8Wk465vOaSX_bBJ2VCeEzKxGOPvKeaeNbqNSS4RWUSYQofUfpE/s1600/IMG_0548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQITroCoLvYvbeTT4etORhj-IUFkow2Zsm_aiMD5OpZKbO8td-Pb4GXcYLwI5HD-KJx-c6iwhvaKHc_5S1o1MQtqRt8Wk465vOaSX_bBJ2VCeEzKxGOPvKeaeNbqNSS4RWUSYQofUfpE/s320/IMG_0548.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8iMAA80W2q79rgp2F2Ff1_CDwQnm-AhXEivqmObyB8-pkSNyB9QRZRdfZZeOT21d90tzzM-ep-ZSxsj4gXGwmoQ1-K3NBimk-Sd6ouO4Dzvr8b1RI61orStCxhbt4ZfzBu_Ana89Krs/s1600/IMG_0563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8iMAA80W2q79rgp2F2Ff1_CDwQnm-AhXEivqmObyB8-pkSNyB9QRZRdfZZeOT21d90tzzM-ep-ZSxsj4gXGwmoQ1-K3NBimk-Sd6ouO4Dzvr8b1RI61orStCxhbt4ZfzBu_Ana89Krs/s320/IMG_0563.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-77530883538237025992010-12-30T17:47:00.000-08:002010-12-30T17:49:53.848-08:00That White Stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So it finally REALLY snowed in northern Arizona and my kids were very excited. We have received a few "dustings" and they said "Wow, it snowed so much." It made me laugh because if you can see the grass peeking through, it's not really snowing, folks. LOL G. was almost 2 when we moved to AZ, so he has little memory of snow and K., well he was born here, so this is a completely new experience! Unfortunately, it wasn't good packing snow, but we had a great time anyway. :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyc5osUNDB74YKEd_mOeGdpRL5GhQNZ2g-anTF1mkPpS6bxDTyStCfwtN4p5RTQFCyH3VLCrYrx62pn90qylg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyYc3amwS9FryCssJBwIvEm0okqg86cA2w8WIOW2bkP3c0Z23YMKxvZqtb-o6a982tidim5CRk-DVJ-wQknKA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-38925831156873308792010-12-13T08:57:00.000-08:002010-12-13T08:59:09.426-08:00Look Behind the TreeThis is an article I wrote for the December issue of our church newsletter. I had to submit a picture as well. A nice staged one! :) And if you are curious, the "sister" was Jaycie.<br />
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One Christmas when I was a girl, all I wanted was a 10-speed bicycle. When I asked for it, I knew it would probably be one of the only things I would get that year.<br />
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Christmas morning, when the lights came on, there stood a vibrant red bicycle. I ecstatically ran to it to discover a tag with someone else's name written on it. I felt deflated. My sister hadn't even asked for a bike. Had there been some mistake? Seconds later, I realized maybe I hadn't looked around enough for MY bike. There it was! A blue bike tucked behind the tree!<br />
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This is a story that is retold in my family, and surely somewhere a videotape of my reaction exists. I am sure someone thought he was very clever to hide the bike.<br />
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We ask our Heavenly Father for many things. Sometimes we see others receive the blessings we desire, and to some those blessings seem to come so easily. We may feel jealous or confused. We may try hard not to allow ourselves to feel cheated. We may be upset that the desires of our hearts take so long to come to pass. Or we may worry that what we ask for will never be given.<br />
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Make no mistake. A loving Heavenly Father will bless us-- is blessing us. It may be in ways not noticed or expected. It may be more slowly than we had hoped, but He loves us and knows us. Sometimes He will deny us what we want, but will bless us with the gifts that truly are the best for us. Sometimes our lives are paths to places we did not expect, but places that will help us become exactly what He has in store for us. <br />
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This holiday, when it is easy to covet talents, blessings, and gifts of others, let us look away from theirs and "look behind the tree" to see what gifts are ours.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgptNg09hIwe4OVr1th5dQEO4brjf8XHySBcbh-UlEAce-cRE-I_WjAOKwuQEKI3n6rLsOS02tRcBQLbUMrOVieeiq1nrI5TLTwsLDd0zM9udYaCqTRCViM-BLxgBe3J3a1xP3kApImEc/s1600/IMG_0388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgptNg09hIwe4OVr1th5dQEO4brjf8XHySBcbh-UlEAce-cRE-I_WjAOKwuQEKI3n6rLsOS02tRcBQLbUMrOVieeiq1nrI5TLTwsLDd0zM9udYaCqTRCViM-BLxgBe3J3a1xP3kApImEc/s320/IMG_0388.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-42834872712747749712010-12-08T09:48:00.000-08:002010-12-08T09:48:00.809-08:00Things That Make You Go Hmmm...Disclaimer: I have been thinking about this post a lot lately. It won't come across as humble as I would prefer. But this is my blog, and assuming you Reader, are my friend, I am going to be open and hope you don't judge me...<br />
<br />
If you asked me what my talents were, I probably would say they aren't "talent show" talents. I write. And actually I read one of my pieces for a talent show. Kind of weird, but it turned out OK. I actually dream of writing something for a magazine someday or talking about my new book on the Today Show. (It's not written, or being written. Just my dream...) I know that God blessed me to be really comfortable in front of others. Public speaking is no biggie. I've spoken in stake conference twice and I can give a church talk on the fly. Sometime, I'll have to tell you about the time I found out about a baptism talk I gave with about 5 minutes notice. And I <u>am</u> a teacher. It is who I am, through and through. I love to teach at church. I love to teach children. And I am good at it. A talent from God, I like to say. But see-- not "talent show" material.<br />
<br />
When I was a girl, I dreamed of being Taylor Swift. Of course, she wasn't born yet, but that was my dream. Being on stage, singing my heart out. (OK, no blonde curly hair though.) Not for the fame or money, just because I love to sing. Even took a few years of voice lessons (thanks Mom and Dad). And since we always had a microphone, had a few moments of singing in front of family friends and once for the Moses Lake Yacht Club and a Jr. Miss Pageant. But I guess at about 17, I accepted that I was probably a small group singer. Ironically it was probably because of a musical we did at church and having lots of friends that were <u>great</u> singers. And watching American Idol. I guess I figured, I was one of those that thought they could sing. And really needed to find another dream. And I had accepted it. <br />
<br />
I have usually joined church choirs more to support them, rather than because I love to sing in a huge group. I have moved into new places and been asked at church, "Do you play the piano? (no talent there) Do you sing? Small group, large group, solos?" And I would always mark anything but solos.<br />
<br />
But then I moved here.<br />
<br />
For some reason, people here think I sing. Surprise! Maybe they know something I don't. People keep asking me to sing stuff. For various things. Like Sunday, one of my friends suggested I sing for an upcoming talent show. And last week, someone asked me to sing at a Christmas church activity. I've felt a little put on the spot, but I am definitely rethinking my singing ability. Maybe being in that musical, when the directors taught me some things about my voice, maybe I got a little better. Maybe I have underestimated myself all these years. <br />
<br />
So right now, I've been singing mostly to support other people. But I have to be honest. I'm still left a little dumb-founded. I'm not planning on auditioning for AI. (Of course, I'm too old anyway. Why does that age requirement make me feel ancient??) But I guess I'll keep saying "yes" when people ask, I guess. And maybe someday, I'll volunteer. Not sure. I'll let myself enjoy it in the meantime. Just in case I have them fooled. LOL<br />
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P.S. Our family was asked to sing in church on Halloween. We practiced and practiced and the boys knew every word of "Nephi's Courage"-- all three verses. We practiced but not in front of the microphone. So the day of, as we began, G. really wanted to be heard. He pressed his face up to that mic. We were in the middle of the song, so we did the best we could to pull him back. Then the circus began. In front of everyone, we moved him around and then K. decided he wanted to lean forward to the mic. But we couldn't stop the song to get everything under control. So we finished the song and I think everyone could tell we knew the words. But it was an entertaining reminder that we adults are NOT in charge; we are at the mercy of our kid. They remind us often that we shouldn't think we are too cool because they will find new ways to embarrass us. Andy had been worried that people would be able to tell he wasn't a singer. I can PROMISE no one was thinking about how great of singers we were. Afterwards, we couldn't really punish him, because he said, "No one EVER let's me use the microphone. EVER." So can you blame the poor boy? <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB6imSPQ6FrVI5il-mV1TtPH1VW2lKyJFzk91IOaBeRSdEuAZ4973b91HYXIYLq6Eyaj5wj2rui0t4CYmP-_ek7ooGc1yAGXUnsMajJw4eajhs8iN9q_xknmwVvX87azVrRMu68hrYOpo/s1600/IMG_0345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB6imSPQ6FrVI5il-mV1TtPH1VW2lKyJFzk91IOaBeRSdEuAZ4973b91HYXIYLq6Eyaj5wj2rui0t4CYmP-_ek7ooGc1yAGXUnsMajJw4eajhs8iN9q_xknmwVvX87azVrRMu68hrYOpo/s320/IMG_0345.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doesn't he look all innocent here? ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-40396594082255644442010-11-24T08:10:00.000-08:002010-11-24T08:10:17.860-08:00Life's Good When You're 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">K. had a birthday in October. G. had him planning out the entire party with lots of G.'s input, but little from the people with the wallets. LOL K. kept telling us that we were going to Peter Piper Pizza for his birthday. How do you break it to the brand new 3 year-old that he's not getting the party he's planned? There was a school fall festival planned for the same night and Andy and I determined that we would actually save money by going to Peter Piper Pizza. So the little guy got his birthday wish!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SvA9yKeqHhBOQRc2fHk23cAQuJH5EIazJ9ar5zjdFBseyaPYGsG8narx3zhB9p7iZi28tHXw6Su-7FNW-6kNg_U82I2_PGex8qaUfTka6Yw_p3KX_VTVdwDGxlBbFOB3MpWX2eRB5Ss/s1600/IMG_0336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SvA9yKeqHhBOQRc2fHk23cAQuJH5EIazJ9ar5zjdFBseyaPYGsG8narx3zhB9p7iZi28tHXw6Su-7FNW-6kNg_U82I2_PGex8qaUfTka6Yw_p3KX_VTVdwDGxlBbFOB3MpWX2eRB5Ss/s320/IMG_0336.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwufzj6CihPSyJJSWpgef8J_c4zUSFls7TlCu7E2CQcd3HQAnq9ouns0CWK_m2wkmhcureU9fRzgOHhULx-tYW3QksDfNFyIebQO3mhW-yPyRCnnaP91QV1YPPOaFEAOdWB0JQIMrCW6Y/s1600/IMG_0328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwufzj6CihPSyJJSWpgef8J_c4zUSFls7TlCu7E2CQcd3HQAnq9ouns0CWK_m2wkmhcureU9fRzgOHhULx-tYW3QksDfNFyIebQO3mhW-yPyRCnnaP91QV1YPPOaFEAOdWB0JQIMrCW6Y/s320/IMG_0328.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNHKLDkcaK7-KtM4NtNyMnyfj_7AL8lfrnzNKnjVtiv0wcSNWVauIFNLh2KZePKT0GDd-q21CIwasxBABSPY0I_HJkCR6QjETeHF7zJnHqdtybyGAapRT118flg8Bpxq2WHdQ_ZIHBL0/s1600/IMG_0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNHKLDkcaK7-KtM4NtNyMnyfj_7AL8lfrnzNKnjVtiv0wcSNWVauIFNLh2KZePKT0GDd-q21CIwasxBABSPY0I_HJkCR6QjETeHF7zJnHqdtybyGAapRT118flg8Bpxq2WHdQ_ZIHBL0/s320/IMG_0338.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp94tp7l446i6XEpekx8ajAu5e_Rh9SeQMWUgyA3d-dc1mSk1C1UFSy9I5owD5MPhQYlgYPmKPuvMm84ZNqyPaSh48g5LpMYzeLY63bYTpFokN6U4qGlXrHWC9yQQbJnm1raU566T2_QA/s1600/IMG_0331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp94tp7l446i6XEpekx8ajAu5e_Rh9SeQMWUgyA3d-dc1mSk1C1UFSy9I5owD5MPhQYlgYPmKPuvMm84ZNqyPaSh48g5LpMYzeLY63bYTpFokN6U4qGlXrHWC9yQQbJnm1raU566T2_QA/s320/IMG_0331.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;">He loved this ride, until it started to move.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8imjhCQXvCsw7zWoR2wXymx54S7gEC3_87ZO9T3UOc7Zlx-2oejY2V3U_0IIC2QGBL3VVhYPuALvEmy5u2JzAKVwmCFH9cZImLHE7XbUg6mWG8y5w151oaxFy_YQSoGr4u03I-8SaBtU/s1600/IMG_0321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8imjhCQXvCsw7zWoR2wXymx54S7gEC3_87ZO9T3UOc7Zlx-2oejY2V3U_0IIC2QGBL3VVhYPuALvEmy5u2JzAKVwmCFH9cZImLHE7XbUg6mWG8y5w151oaxFy_YQSoGr4u03I-8SaBtU/s320/IMG_0321.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All the boys</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifU3SMe4KNSoQWGwl_JXYv29QJeZE48Nxmt2v8C3ePUlaM-U6NfOrZoERBh5RGsPBdb5CvRvGJei0ew6tzw3sPcbG1lSSUVr8D3Hy7bG1U2ssTMmDQLq7_byW7RdXpF_krIOy3cAKg20g/s1600/IMG_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifU3SMe4KNSoQWGwl_JXYv29QJeZE48Nxmt2v8C3ePUlaM-U6NfOrZoERBh5RGsPBdb5CvRvGJei0ew6tzw3sPcbG1lSSUVr8D3Hy7bG1U2ssTMmDQLq7_byW7RdXpF_krIOy3cAKg20g/s320/IMG_0340.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Trying to get that "3" down...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHeWB5vdOQe9gEDluIkyF8sUqQrci8f2LbDgGsQtpEABpgurdnIHqhPuA0s1XIo3qwQZ9FLALXb4ZoFBkMaK_ymu0V2a8BDs9lXUpdu-6OICBcvYuhuX2t9xhSf-EvpQ8cmbe0k1Auli4/s1600/IMG_0342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHeWB5vdOQe9gEDluIkyF8sUqQrci8f2LbDgGsQtpEABpgurdnIHqhPuA0s1XIo3qwQZ9FLALXb4ZoFBkMaK_ymu0V2a8BDs9lXUpdu-6OICBcvYuhuX2t9xhSf-EvpQ8cmbe0k1Auli4/s320/IMG_0342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Got it!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Cau6nWmcKugXpVzE6WDworuqXCBAqFh_fw-SvebvJQ-t0wftrTa_1PirD64VPXZr7-WGBBLxIUXnWZRTPKMMahNgSAfHK9kGQAXDRXD-FP8i3OiOrQQoISaeZk88OKg9_dcdzBSyEe0/s1600/IMG_0335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Cau6nWmcKugXpVzE6WDworuqXCBAqFh_fw-SvebvJQ-t0wftrTa_1PirD64VPXZr7-WGBBLxIUXnWZRTPKMMahNgSAfHK9kGQAXDRXD-FP8i3OiOrQQoISaeZk88OKg9_dcdzBSyEe0/s320/IMG_0335.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, how exciting the toys are here...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCOw1J1fHgVbXh6NS7R_kW6SGoxFkt2gvshvE-vwuWvz3S-yUKmC_fLfodU-kqO-_3DlKn0bdsDxNAVmt8W0fzhXe50jW5HmFhm3aODs6aGx45mRR2mr5RJdaSDTxU8pbn4pEAPh3emM/s1600/IMG_0343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCOw1J1fHgVbXh6NS7R_kW6SGoxFkt2gvshvE-vwuWvz3S-yUKmC_fLfodU-kqO-_3DlKn0bdsDxNAVmt8W0fzhXe50jW5HmFhm3aODs6aGx45mRR2mr5RJdaSDTxU8pbn4pEAPh3emM/s320/IMG_0343.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK1aBvpy-VzNChNRw6KJz-51mVQ_1omVBF7DC2if-bKb-Qh5ERQSpatyI5OR44_bwSCmHDAI9AB23ec1IdxvNt0OvBDltURUAwOCKa5q6E9SMfMc6_r30TUQi2CXXr_1kAw9DIcOlW-Nc/s1600/IMG_0356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK1aBvpy-VzNChNRw6KJz-51mVQ_1omVBF7DC2if-bKb-Qh5ERQSpatyI5OR44_bwSCmHDAI9AB23ec1IdxvNt0OvBDltURUAwOCKa5q6E9SMfMc6_r30TUQi2CXXr_1kAw9DIcOlW-Nc/s320/IMG_0356.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Sponge Bob cake requested by the boy that never watches it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzz3p47-B4drB73cj7-wo96mIgtcQ45B6Kv-ppqMJJwHw-AlDv2r4FnuCjS9PuhBzeL0fe3cHOuZr-gL3uskQjjy0xMuneH0FzpZ9uGo0UydUGYdH08_skYtLhbpKydQmKya6zhxCj0I/s1600/IMG_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzz3p47-B4drB73cj7-wo96mIgtcQ45B6Kv-ppqMJJwHw-AlDv2r4FnuCjS9PuhBzeL0fe3cHOuZr-gL3uskQjjy0xMuneH0FzpZ9uGo0UydUGYdH08_skYtLhbpKydQmKya6zhxCj0I/s320/IMG_0357.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Blowing out the candle</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87JmOT9ZQztnvWLFsZBn0Pfpzc5a5hsS0jWQ1ftci_6VHaXbJnRMWYWgKEij-lMMyiUZ6AdFEQuRP96EIZWqawFBlJrSGW3Z7YqdxzPRD8G3sL34WLHXVR3kuzSBkMONN-1DX5gauvZw/s1600/IMG_0362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87JmOT9ZQztnvWLFsZBn0Pfpzc5a5hsS0jWQ1ftci_6VHaXbJnRMWYWgKEij-lMMyiUZ6AdFEQuRP96EIZWqawFBlJrSGW3Z7YqdxzPRD8G3sL34WLHXVR3kuzSBkMONN-1DX5gauvZw/s320/IMG_0362.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the face he makes when he wants to look "cute"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Happy Birthday K.! </div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-32951583163864090872010-10-10T00:22:00.000-07:002010-10-10T00:22:13.841-07:00Light in the DarknessSo I have heard that if you need speak to God you pray, and when you want God to speak to you, you open the scriptures. Totally happened to me this week. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I find myself reading message boards about controversial topics usually that have to do with the principles that I am trying to teach my growing boys. And a mother that considers herself Christian can feel a little battered and bruised listening to the attacks on Christians these days. I know that we live in a world where there is a lot of diverse ideology and everyone wants to be left in peace to live as they wish. But I also believe in a loving Heavenly Father that gives us commandments to help guide us through life. And I believe in one that would like to destroy us, and bring us down to his world of misery. He is real and he has nothing but our destruction in mind. So I believe that commandments aren't restrictions, but fences that keep me in the safe place, the place where I can find peace and comfort.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>But I feel like those that criticize Christians don't know me. They don't know that I love Jesus and I know that he loves ALL of us. I try to treat people kindly. But I also believe there are blessings in obedience to Him who knows and understand all. But I worry for my children, that they will be attacked because they feel this way to. Because they believe. And I want them to feel safe, but some in this diverse world want to not only ignore their choice of lifestyle, they want to crush it. So I have felt a little in turmoil about what the future holds for them.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>I was heavy-hearted, but had to get dinner on the table. My boys were doing homework. While I was stirring the food, I opened my New Testament. And I am not kidding, there were answers everywhere. I started writing them down, as fast as I found them. It's a wonder my dinner wasn't burned. So in my hectic, noisy house, in front of a hot stove, holding a spatula, He answered me. My questions. And soothed my heart. I am still nervous. But not heavy. And I have a list of verses I can return to when I need to remember... I love the verse that says "I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you." (John 14:18) He definitely took care of me this week.</div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8183198808368988442.post-21843537446851510022010-10-07T14:44:00.000-07:002011-07-15T09:57:32.908-07:00"I’m One of the Ninety and Nine"My friend Verena posted this to her Facebook page. It's a magazine blog post with a song that is worth a minute to check out. Thanks Verena. :)<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Michael McLean is the author and songwriter. Here is a bit of a quote. Hope it makes you curious to listen to the song. I've definitely felt this way a few times. </div><div><br />
</div><div><blockquote>"Why is it, I wondered, that the lost souls get so much attention in the scriptures. If you’re a prodigal son and come home your dad throws a party. If you’re a world-class persecutor on the road to Damascus you get a light and a voice. Even if you’re a sheep that strays from the fold the good shepherd leaves the ninety and nine good guy sheep in search of the lost one. </blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"></span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><blockquote>The argument can be made that all of us are lost, and these stories remind us that no matter how far we’ve strayed or how far we’ve fallen, there’s hope and a way back. These stories are EXACTLY what you need to hear when you’re feeling lost and alone. </blockquote></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><blockquote><br />
</blockquote></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><blockquote>But what about the people who aren’t particularly lost, but may feel unnoticed? What about the ones who are carpooling cub scouts, serving in the soup kitchens, taking clothing to good will, donating blood, singing in the choir, volunteering at the hospital, visiting the nursing home, tutoring students, teaching Sunday School, coaching little league and doing the thousand of other activities the regular good guys do...without any spotlights or fanfare, without seeking any credit, without building up themselves up, but rather, wearing out their lives more or less being the kind of people the good shepherd doesn’t have to worry about. What about them?</blockquote></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><blockquote><br />
</blockquote></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><blockquote>I was rather surprised at how intensely I asked this question and how quickly I got a musical answer..." </blockquote></span><a href="http://www.ldsmag.com/component/zine/article/6454?ac=1">http://www.ldsmag.com/component/zine/article/6454?ac=1</a></div>Amy Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949640555775582652noreply@blogger.com1