tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21198495800897814832024-03-20T01:22:03.542-07:00Brokenness AsideJust a girl trying to live a beautiful life in Jesus' loveAnnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-28944698969379629982016-07-12T05:26:00.000-07:002016-07-12T05:26:58.466-07:00No More Numbers GameI've been raising guide dogs for a long time. Almost half of my life at this point. In 2005 I received my first puppy, so it's been 11 years out of the 25 I've been alive. When I went to college I had raised 5 pups and had to take a break for 2 years to finish my degree at a 4 year university.<br />
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In 2012 I found my way to Puppy Guides of Snohomish County and in December I was given puppy #6 to raise. Since then I've raised puppies 6,7,8,9, and 10 with Puppy Guides and have become a co-leader of the group.<br />
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I'm under no illusion that I'm the best puppy raiser ever. Or even that I'm an extraordinary handler. I have been fortunate to work with the most incredible and talented leader I know and she is able to read dogs and handle them with astounding success. All this is to set up my credentials so you know I've been around the block a little when I tell you: I HATE THE NUMBERS GAME.<br />
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Granted. I'm very proud of the fact that I've raised 10 puppies. However, in puppy raiser world it has somehow became ok to engage in puppy raiser shaming. Not direct shaming, but more bragging that makes someone else feel inadequate. No one would ever intentionally do it...raisers are generally some of the most caring, kind, selfless people I know. But I've started noticing comments from people on social media.<br />
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"starter puppies don't count"</blockquote>
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"oh...well you're co-raising"</blockquote>
My favorite (and by "favorite" I mean I hate it) question is<br />
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"how many of your dogs have made it?"</blockquote>
What do you mean by that? If you mean how many have graduated as guides, I'd have to think about it. But here's my question.....why does it matter? With the exception of the people who are genuinely curious about statistics, the goal is to see if the question asker has had more "successful" dogs than the person they're asking. My answer to that question is "all of them!" Every single one of my puppies have become happy dogs. To me, that's success. You want to talk about how many guides I've had? Maybe to judge my raising abilities? I can tell you, you are definitely a better raiser than me based on the numbers. In the past 5 dogs I've had it all.<br />
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6. Vicente- co-raised, transferred to me, graduated, retired early, adopted by me</div>
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7. Handsome-fully raised by me, career changed before recall</div>
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8. Garnish-fully raised by me, recalled for breeder evals, selected as a breeder pending final tests, dropped from breeders due to family medical issue, put into training, put in class, pulled from class due to partner leaving early, career changed, now training with Dogs 4 Diabetics</div>
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9. Jalina-starter pup, planned transfer to a friend, transferred back to me, career changed before recall at 1 year old on the same day as Garnish's career change</div>
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10. Claudette-planned on being raised by just me, co-raised, transferred to co-raiser permanently</div>
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Wow look at that list of "failure". My one "success" retired early, and I can't seem to get a dog to recall! 2 transfers, 2 co-raises, 2 dropped in-home. If we play the numbers game, I should just stop raising now. But I don't play that game. As we've already established, I'm not the best puppy raiser ever. I hate baby puppies, I get frustrated with lack of progress, I feel overwhelmed a lot. You know what? Someone has to raise the career changes! And I have an empathy now that some raisers simply don't understand.</div>
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We have a couple of raisers in our club who have had a large percentage of their dogs become graduates. One of them has graduated both of her puppies, another has had a breeder and only one career change. That's great. I'm very happy for them! Part of their success is definitely due to handling ability. Most of it is just plain luck. Who you're assigned.</div>
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But we have other families who have never raised a graduate or who went a very very long time without one. I get it. When the raiser who has only had 1 graduate out of 7 dogs gets frustrated, I can feel her pain. When one of our pups gets dropped before recall, I get it because I, too, have walked that road. When an <i>amazing</i> dog goes back for breeder evals and is dropped due to a medical issue in the family--that isn't even her fault--I've lived that disappointment. In the rare occurrence that a dog goes into class and gets pulled from class before graduation, I know the rollercoaster of emotions they're going through. Perhaps the hardest thing is transferring a dog that you expected to keep for the full year. I know that it's not a bad thing! And it's not a failure on your part! It's the way to get a pup you love and care deeply about to reach her fullest potential. I've been there. I've had those emotions. I've walked those roads. And while I wish I could take the pain from all of my raisers, I know I can't. Instead I'll have to walk alongside them with the empathy that can only be given from someone who has been there, too. Those who have never experienced "failure" can never <i>really</i> understand what it's like. Their word of condolence are a valiant attempt to be supportive, but they just don't know what if feels like to be in your shoes.<br />
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Maybe I'd feel differently if my numbers looked better. But hey, I've learned a lot from my crazy puppies. Maybe #11 will teach me something new. </div>
Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13514755359320405770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-49972007219861558322015-01-05T02:55:00.001-08:002015-01-05T02:55:52.932-08:00The saga continues<p dir="ltr">I've gone back and read a lot of my posts. This is so cool. I love the chronicle of my life and what I <i>actually</i> felt...not just the face I put on for people. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Just a few notes on some of my life events. The Marysville Pilchuck High School shooting still haunts me. It's not something I think or talk about all the time, but every once in a while I remember. And then I wish I hadn't. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Handsome has his forever family. He was placed so quickly that they must have been waiting for him. Miss G's name is Garnish, and like I predicted, she's great. She is a ball of fire and teeth and will keep me on my toes. But I think she's pretty great. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I'm down 30 pounds since June. Currently weighing in at 173. I can't remember the last time I was in the 170's. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And there's this boy..........</p>
Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13514755359320405770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-79902588570869142522014-12-04T09:05:00.001-08:002014-12-04T09:05:07.322-08:00Only know you love him when you let him go<p dir="ltr">Today I'm going to get out of bed, make a breakfast shake, go for a run, clean my apartment, get a Christmas tree, straighten my hair, go to the chiropractor, take a nap, head into work, and keep living. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Yesterday I slept for hours in the middle of the day because after 15 months together, I sent my last guide dog puppy off to pursue his future. I drove 8 hours to Portland and back, and cried for 3 of them. There is no way to explain the feeling. I know he's "just a dog". I know he was destined to belong to someone else, and <i>have</i> known that since the day I got him. I poured my heart and soul into taking a goofy, crazy puppy and making him a well mannered dog that can behave appropriately in almost any situation. I failed at that task and he was dropped from the program because he simply couldn't do the right thing <b>EVERY</b> time like he needed to. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We spent about 3 weeks together just hanging out since he couldn't go out in public anymore. I watched him go from a dog who was trying <i>so</i> <i>hard</i> to a puppy that got to enjoy life. He could chase frisbees, run around in the snow, be distracted by dogs and it didn't matter. In those 3 weeks he turned into a cuddle bug...which is something he had never been for over a year. He got to just. be. And it was a beautiful thing. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I never said goodbye. I was too focused on getting out the door before I fell apart. I learned that 2 of his brothers were also at the kennels and they'll probably get to play together. I know they will love the crap out of him because he's just that kind of dog. And I'm sure he will be easy to place with a forever home. </p>
<p dir="ltr">My heart doesn't feel like it was torn apart. It feels more like there's been a hole cut out of the photo of my life. He hasn't broken my heart, he's added a piece to it. But I feel like there's just something missing. Last night I jumped in the shower and half expected to see him standing there when the water turned off. I still had the baby gate up, blocking the kitchen so he couldn't clean the floor for me. When I crawled into bed at 3pm after the drive, the stuffy toy he had shared with me last night was waiting for me, and I half expected to hear the soft padding of his feet coming in to lay down on his bed. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I didn't have to be quiet. There is no head staring at me from the edge of the bed, just waiting for me to say "good morning sunshine!" so he can eat breakfast. </p>
<p dir="ltr">This is the last time I will let myself cry. Life goes on, and as a puppy raiser I always know this day is coming. I'm intentionally skipping our next puppy club meeting (and spending the day with a police K9 team instead!) because I just can't take the sad looks from other raisers. This is what we DO. We love a puppy and give it away so that someone else's life will be better. </p>
<p dir="ltr">But I also know that my heart is big enough and strong enough to do it again. And it will. In 10 days. And she will be tiny and adorable. And will bark and whine all night. And she will pee all over my floor. And I will love her, too. And maybe, just maybe, this one will be someone's eyeballs. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I love you, Arturo, Lawrence, Pomona, Vortex, Janda, Vicente, and my precious precious Handsome boy. And I can't wait to meet you, Miss G.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vH6Nx4-Lxmc/VICUQMBTRuI/AAAAAAAAALw/AtM2cWHkV2k/s1600/20141203_114358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vH6Nx4-Lxmc/VICUQMBTRuI/AAAAAAAAALw/AtM2cWHkV2k/s640/20141203_114358.jpg"> </a> </div>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13514755359320405770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-17819413869032905722014-10-26T02:58:00.001-07:002014-10-26T06:04:52.103-07:00Be still<p dir="ltr">I don't really even know where to start. On Wednesday, October 15 my dispatch center worked a spree shooting. One of our sgts was injured. The radio traffic was heartbreaking. Listening to a man who I love working with trying his very best to stay calm but yelling over the radio that he'd been shot will burn in my memory forever. Those are my guys. It's my job to be their lifeline, but I wasn't working so I couldn't be. It was a difficult thing to process. Hit on the reality of the job we do.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Friday, October 24 I worked the wee hours of the morning on Marysville Police radio. At 0600 I signed the day shift cars into service. I joked around with a couple of them, we talked about the weather, and I signed in the school resource officer of Marysville Pilchuck High School. Someone called out sick and I almost offered to stay over, but I was exhausted and just decided to go home. I left telling the next dispatcher that I hadn't heard a peep from them in 25 minutes. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.</p>
<p dir="ltr">About 6 hours later I woke up to a Facebook message from an out of town friend: "I really hope that wasn't you guys...but if it was, I'm really sorry." Immediately, I jumped on Facebook and was inundated with posts about a high school shooting. In Marysville. I <i>just</i> worked there. Everything was fine. Quiet, even. When I was signing people in, this teenager was getting ready to go to school and kill his friends.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The best description I've heard is it was a "senseless waste of life". I can't even wrap my head around the whole thing. I don't know how I feel, or how I'm supposed to feel. I'm sad that it happened. It's cool to see the community response. I guess it's such a big deal because it's a school where kids are supposed to feel safe. But really, any life that is stolen away is tragic. Is it because we see kids as helpless or innocent? Because this isn't "supposed" to happen? I guess all these questions are coming up because of what happened next.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Friday, October 24 at about 11:30pm, a man was murdered in Lynnwood. I dispatched a 5 hour long manhunt. We don't know the circumstances but it happened on my radio. The next day I checked the news and there were 6 articles about the school shooting and 3 paragraphs about the fact that the sheriff's office was looking for the suspect in a homicide. If I'm being honest, I'm a little upset that this missing suspect was given 3 paragraphs while there were experts and friends and officials and goodness knows who else all talking about the shooting. Where the suspect was already dead. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Thankfully someone was paying attention to those 3 paragraphs and we caught the suspect on that one, too.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Tonight we had a massive storm with an overflow of people calling for trees down or things catching on fire. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I can't get a break. I love my job but I'm exhausted. I'm tired. I need a good day. What I want is to get an attaboy because this job sucks the life out of you every day. What I NEED is to find a way to lean on Jesus for strength. I don't honestly know how to trust Jesus and give my pain to Jesus because I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm a fortress and don't need help. When I did reach out, the person I looked to let me down. </p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Find </i><i>rest </i><i>my </i><i>soul, </i><i>in </i><i>Christ </i><i>alone, </i><i>know </i>his <i>power, </i><i>in </i><i>quietness </i>and <i>trust...</i><i>When </i><i>the </i><i>oceans </i><i>rise </i>and <i>thunders </i><i>roar, I </i><i>will </i><i>soar </i><i>with </i><i>you </i><i>above </i><i>the </i><i>storm, </i><i>Father </i><i>you </i>are king<i> </i><i>over</i><i> the flood, I </i>will<i> </i><i>be </i><i>still </i>and <i>know </i><i>you </i><i>are God.</i></p>
Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13514755359320405770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-53052249673288469652014-09-21T04:47:00.001-07:002014-09-21T04:50:48.617-07:00Blood, sweat, and tears<p dir="ltr">About 3 months ago I got tired of looking at myself in the mirror and hating what I see. I mean, I was tired of it about 8 months ago, but mid-June I decided to do something about it. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Since starting at the center, I've packed on a lot of weight. Sitting for 8-12 hours, living alone, being busy, and not liking to cook all results in fast food, watching movies, and using the puppy as an excuse for not working out. (Since I can't take him on a run, and I don't want to leave him home alone, I just can't go.) I would avoid mirrors at all costs, and scales repulsed me. When I was driving I could feel my sides and stomach jiggling when I went over bumpy roads and the seatbelt developed an uncomfortable snug-ness across my waist. I would change my outfit 3 or 4 times before leaving the house, looking for the one that didn't make me look heavy. Pictures were always taken from a certain angle so you couldn't see my double chin. But you could see it anyway. People talked about setting me up on dates with their friends, but that thought made me queasy because who would look twice at a girl like me? </p>
<p dir="ltr">So when summer hit and my excuse of "everyone weighs more during the winter because your body is saving weight in case you need to hibernate" disappeared, I decided to make the change. To figure out how much I'm supposed to eat, actually eat fresh food, and <i><b>not</b></i> eat out unless necessary. I found an app that takes into account your height/weight, activity level, and age and gives you a calorie amount per day. Then you log everything you eat and it magically tells you if you're over-eating or not. I have it set at a number of calories that should mean I lose a pound per week. </p>
<p dir="ltr">In addition to that, I've been doing my very best to be active. Walk the dog, go hike, run on the treadmill, heck--do pushups and situps! Just. do.SOMETHING. This week I started the Piyo workout program. It's been kicking my butt. I haven't been able to walk all week. </p>
<p dir="ltr">But the long and short of it is that I've lost 12 pounds since I started caring. When I started I was 202 pounds. It's hard to even write that. Granted, I'm nowhere near happy at 190, but it's progress. Painful, slow, exhausting progress.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MxdnGfXsRmE/VB662PhhpQI/AAAAAAAAALc/5PuyWmwXoL8/s1600/a8767f242d9c2a25cf8974d5dd55adb9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MxdnGfXsRmE/VB662PhhpQI/AAAAAAAAALc/5PuyWmwXoL8/s640/a8767f242d9c2a25cf8974d5dd55adb9.jpg"> </a> </div>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13514755359320405770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-86377740683911863222014-08-24T00:44:00.001-07:002014-12-04T09:19:30.823-08:00In my shoes<p dir="ltr">There has been a lot of media attention surrounding the public safety fields in the past few months. Excessive force, officer involved shootings, rude 911 calltakers, the list goes on and on. Somehow I manage to keep my personal opinion off Facebook, but it's driving me crazy. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Have you ever heard the saying "you can't judge a man till you walk a mile in his shoes"? This is the best way to describe my opinion on these topics. I will be the first to say that yes, there are bad cops and bad dispatchers. There are people in this line of work who are racist like there are employees at Microsoft, Target, Starbucks, and the DMV who are racist. I don't condone racism or straight up pointless rudeness. So if we can set aside those incidents (which are far fewer than the media would like you to think) we have the rest of the incidents.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The most recent trend is that any time a white cop shoots a black kid, the media goes ballistic. Has anyone besides me seen the officer's side of this most recent one? How the kid charged the officer multiple times? So I'm an officer sitting in my patrol car, roll up on guys who match suspect descriptions from a robbery, try to contact them and they start fighting me. Call me crazy, but I'm going home to my family at the end of the shift. The officer sustained multiple injuries consistent with someone defending himself, and eyewitness reports collaborate that version of the <u>stor</u>y. Why is it that the officer who was protecting himself is the bad guy? Cause the guy he shot was black? Answer me this: if the suspect was white would everyone be complaining? How about if the officer was a black female? The double standard is<i> </i><i>ridiculous.</i> </p>
<p dir="ltr">As a dispatcher, I work with police officers 5 days a week, 8-12 hours per day. I'd count some of my officers as friends. Some of them have added me on Facebook. Some of them I've ridden in the patrol car with. I have first hand knowledge about what police officers are like. I can't stand a few of them, but most of them are <b>good</b> men and women. I salute them for the job they do. For the drunk/clinically insane people they contact every. freaking. day. and DON'T beat up. For the endless string of absolutely ridiculous requests that they field and deal with, for the most part politely. For working up to 20 hours at a time, fully expecting at any second they could be fighting for their lives. For the ability to not only manage the citizens, but also deal with us on the radio. Let me tell you how many domestic violence victims have seen their abusers go to jail because of the police. How about we put the burglary where a K9 track and good police work ended up in an arrest on the news and talk about it for more than 5 seconds?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Ok, now on to something I <i>really</i> care about. The 911 calls. I don't care how much you hate your job, unless you work in emergency services of some kind you have <b>ZERO</b> right to judge a calltaker's work.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">Picture this: you wake up in the morning, make waffles, get your kids dressed, take them for a walk with the dog (who <i>still</i> wants to chase all the birds..grrr), your daughter complains because she wants a popsicle and you won't let her till after lunch. After packing lunches you load the kids into the car and take them to daycare. You get to work, clock in, say hi to the co-worker you haven't seen because they were on vacation, put your headset on, ask your neighbor about how the recipe they posted on Facebook turned out, your phone rings and all you hear is screaming. It's a cell phone (of course) so the only location you have is within 500 meters of where the call is at, so you repeatedly tell <u>the</u> caller "I need the address" which is always followed by "well, I don't know the address, damnit! Can't you just ping my phone?!?" Since you're working on a recorded line you politely explain that you don't have the ability to do that and try your best to get some kind of info so that you can get this person the help they need. You get as much info as you can and hang up. Your phone rings again and you speak with a woman whose cat is stuck in the tree. While you feel terrible for the lady because you love animals, you have to advise her that in your jurisdiction, the fire department doesn't respond for that--she needs to call a tree topping service. "Are you f$56*¡ telling me they won't come out?" Unfortunately yes. They hang up on you. You get a few minutes to finish your <u>conversion</u> about that recipe and the phone rings. A lady had her car broken into. The call is short, sweet, to the point and you thank her for calling as you disconnect. Now you are getting a call about a fight in progress. "The suspect is a white male. Actually a Hispanic male, but I have no idea what he's wearing." Officers happen to be nearby and get there in great time. It's not really a fight, just a group of teens horseplaying. As soon as you hang up, the phone starts ringing again, this time with a report of a "suspicious male who doesn't belong"....because he doesn't look "right".  You have 2 minutes to run to the bathroom because you drank too much coffee and sit back down to a report of the rape of a 4 year old. Then a prank call from 2 kids who just laugh and hang up. And you're only an hour into your 8 hour shift.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Put that on repeat for 40 hours a week. You're dealing with the highest stress moments off people's lives. You get cussed out in a day more than the average person will in a month. And out of the thousands upon thousands of calls you take in a year, maybe 5 will ever give you credit for gathering the info/keeping them calm/sending the appropriate response (which is <i>usually</i> not what the caller thinks it should be.) The amount of ridiculous and bogus calls you take <b>far</b> outweighs the number of legit calls....we're talking 50:1.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">The only people who understand what it's like is the other people you work with. If you don't have the luxury of working days (only 1/3 of our center staff does) you are constantly telling people "sorry, I'd love to come over....or to your kid's birthday party....or to the football game...or to the club meeting but I have to work nights.and weekends.and holidays." You don't want to burden your friends and family with the weight that rests on your shoulders, because you want to keep them clear of the world you see every day. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I remember the outrage over the calltaker who didn't seem overly concerned when the missing girl called 911 and said she'd been missing and gave her location. Did you know I've talked to Jesus on the phone? And people who kindly <u>explained</u> to me how Yoplait is chocolate with a man and a woman. We say "ok", enter the call, and let the police take it from there. It's not my job to counsel you, make you feel good about yourself, or always say "yes" to every demand. My job is to gather the pertinent info in the quickest manner and give it accurately to my units.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Wow that was a lot. It just drives me bonkers. Work my job for even a DAY and your opinions of the garbage the media shows will change drastically. The End.</p>
Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13514755359320405770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-8006616960485892812014-06-20T20:49:00.001-07:002014-06-20T22:34:18.339-07:00Rebel StatusI am a rebel. I got a tattoo.<div><br></div><div>When you grow up in a very conservative home like mine, you learn very early on that tattoos are the devil's ink. There's no good reason to mark up your body. The Bible says no alterations. What if the man you want to marry doesn't approve of them. It might seem like a good idea at the time, but you'd regret it. It's impulsive and people get it to show gang affiliation.</div><div><br></div><div>So when I was in high school, I used sharpie to write things to remember from youth group lessons on my wrist/arm. Usually one-word things like "idols" or "joyful". I can't tell you when, but at some point I started writing the word "love" in script on my ankle. When I began my Police Explorer career, I had to be careful about where I wrote things because any ink had to be covered by my uniform. I wanted to go into law enforcement and the same rule applies to most law enforcement agencies. So I kept writing that word "love" on my ankle. For 5 years.</div><div><br></div><div>All through college I was poor and wasn't 100% sure that I wanted it tattooed. But I wrote it by hand every time I came out of the shower. As I started working a real job I kept writing it and began thinking of a tattoo, but I wanted to wait till I had the last piece of the puzzle--a man. Until one of my co-workers said that is a terrible idea. Don't get a tattoo for a person. Get it because you want it. I decided I was tired of it coming off in the shower, and the next day got it done. </div><div><br></div><div>It comes straight from 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient, kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not rude, is not self seeking, it keeps no record if wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth.</div><div><br></div><div>It is for my friends who have walked with me, and at times carried me, through my life.</div><div><br></div><div>It is for my family who is always there.</div><div><br></div><div>It is for my guide dog family--the people AND the puppies who I've poured my heart into. </div><div><br></div><div>It's for my future man who I might not yet know, but who I pray for and know that God has all picked out for me.</div><div><br></div><div>It's a symbol that I'm a grown up now. I'm not my parents' robot. I can think, decide, and act for myself. That I can make a choice based on what <i>I</i> want and don't have to live by their rules.</div><div><br></div><div>It's a reminder every minute of every day how much God loves me and how He wants me to love people.</div><div><br></div><div>And it's a great conversation starter.</div><div><br></div><div>So yes, mom and dad, I have a tattoo. And I still love Jesus. And I'm thrilled that I <b>finally</b> have it done.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQNO4UwWa1xaQsCdKEyyaOLaGsE2Wc-jMkZv4f0xOcAABjYDxekyDY-3ATRJYElDwoPR32Ze0FqYtlS_g6Ki9C8B8cXzKAaF7Ut_gJRhJc7GJz8jpFX6nzZ-vOvlHvMoHa0CXUUGwflo/s640/blogger-image--1411000464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQNO4UwWa1xaQsCdKEyyaOLaGsE2Wc-jMkZv4f0xOcAABjYDxekyDY-3ATRJYElDwoPR32Ze0FqYtlS_g6Ki9C8B8cXzKAaF7Ut_gJRhJc7GJz8jpFX6nzZ-vOvlHvMoHa0CXUUGwflo/s640/blogger-image--1411000464.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-71366201121054223432014-04-27T02:40:00.001-07:002014-04-27T02:41:21.471-07:00Those days when you just want to screamSome days, man..... <div><br></div><div>I'm at work and I have at very least one person angry with me because I'm working the radio they were promised to work. It's ridiculous. I definitely have my favorite radios, too. And I understand how it would be frustrating to have your expectations squashed. But in the end, it's JUST a radio. It's 8 hours that you're getting paid to work. You'll go home at the end of your shift and play with your kids or sleep or drink a beer. Get over yourself. <div><br></div><div>On the other hand, I have been listening to myself lately and I'm realizing not only how petty other people are, but I can be too. And the petty frustration leads to gossip. Which just causes problems. And I'm discovering more and more that I'm bad about gossip here at work. Where's the balance between frustration and gossip? How do you get out the pent up "THIS PERSON CAN'T DO THEIR JOB" frustration without talking to others and without imploding? I want to do the right thing and not make enemies but that's not always possible I suppose. </div></div><div><br></div><div>Life is so complicated. Blah. </div><div><br></div><div>In other news...... What a gorgeous boy.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdw2987RfKvKLB2uN8ifGc49PA4yp2ABWtE33OMJEXqaJkqdSp03fomQaHXG8F01XYj1Z-SKjsZ5nNsrKd8MMoN8fuNV6IQpuf_XMNSC7MLf1TBw3liqLAxwAROoQemkjr8cf6ZTpr8uA/s640/blogger-image--2003932603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdw2987RfKvKLB2uN8ifGc49PA4yp2ABWtE33OMJEXqaJkqdSp03fomQaHXG8F01XYj1Z-SKjsZ5nNsrKd8MMoN8fuNV6IQpuf_XMNSC7MLf1TBw3liqLAxwAROoQemkjr8cf6ZTpr8uA/s640/blogger-image--2003932603.jpg"></a></div></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-88129912053397532362014-03-23T18:10:00.001-07:002014-03-23T18:14:32.836-07:00When words aren't enough"Notify the M.E........" The worst words to hear on your radio. <div><br></div><div>I'm not going to get into a long winded post about the meaning of life and how precious it is. Let me just say that natural disasters suck. Sitting here and listening to it unfold and not being able to do anything about it sucks even more. I'm spending my afternoon dispatching people's petty issues. Really? Get your head out of your butt for 4 1/2 minutes. I would say "life goes on" but obviously that's not true for the bodies they're <i>still</i> uncovering. </div><div><br></div><div>I can dispatch a stabbing, home invasion, or suicide attempt. This is the first time I've teared up at work (well other than I frustration during training). </div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-57684962072652611782014-02-14T00:49:00.001-08:002014-02-16T17:26:30.601-08:00Lessons in singleness<div>It hit me the other day that as a single girl I'm all messed up. It really hit me when I saw flowers at the grocery store and was sad because no one brings <i>me</i> flowers. Then I realized, why do I need to wait for someone to bring me flowers? I've spent so long waiting for later that I haven't been noticing what I'm learning NOW. </div><div><br></div><div>With that said, I have a wonderful best friend who I've gone through a lot with. She has taught me 4 things that are priceless:</div><div><br></div><b>1. I'm not always right. </b>I'm not the type of person who just says stuff, usually it's based on fact or experience. But as much as it shocks me, I'm not always right. And let me tell you it's the hardest thing in the world to admit that. My best friend has been gracious and loving and sometimes stubborn and I'm <i>learning </i>that it's ok to be wrong. No one is perfect. <div><br><div><div><b>2. When to just say "ok". </b>Along with that last one, when I know I'm correct I don't like to let it go. Deep down it's a pride issue. I know I'm right and you're wrong, and I'm going to make you see that. Even if it makes you upset or hurt, I have a need to justify myself and always prove that you're wrong. After a few arguments that hurt a lot (and I'm sure hurt her, too), I've found that I care about her so much that I don't want her to be sad over a ridiculous issue. It really doesn't matter if she thinks that we didn't talk about our weekend plans...instead, just move on and discuss it again. What good does it really do to correct every little thing? Sure sometimes I need to adamantly defend a position, but most of the time, it's ok to just let stuff go.</div><div><br></div><div><b>3. How to be KNOWN.</b> I struggle with being vulnerable. I'm really good at pretending to be. I've gone through some crappy stuff but I don't mind talking about it and sharing my story with people. It makes it seem like "oh wow she really opened up to me", but I really haven't. When I hang out with people or start new relationships I like to ask questions. I'm a communication major so that's naturally what I like to do--communicate. People love to talk about themselves, and I love to listen, so that's usually my "job" with my friends. There are very very <i>very</i> few people who actually know me. Who I feel like I can express the full extent of my emotions or experiences to. It's scary because once you share that with someone, they hold a piece of you that they can either choose to protect or share with other people. I told her something the other day that I hadn't shared with anyone, and it was terrifying. But it's safe with her.</div></div></div><div><br></div><div><b>4. How to accept gifts/compliments.</b> So we've already established that I have issues. One of them is that I don't believe people are being genuine when they give gifts or compliments. In my head, saying someone looks good or does their job well is kind of expected. Same with giving gifts...people do it either to get on someone's good side or because they feel obligated. Part of being loved by someone is to learn to take things graciously and to believe in their sincerity. I'm still cynical enough that I don't think the majority of people are genuine, but the ones who truly care are just trying to express how they feel. </div><div><br></div><div>So the way I'm trying to look at things is instead of wasting these years of singleness, it's a perfect time to just grow and learn things that God has for me. I'm sure my future man will appreciate it :)</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-86798621809871810612014-02-07T03:38:00.001-08:002014-02-07T03:41:13.957-08:00ShiftsIt occurred to me that not everyone understands work schedules that aren't the normal 9am-5pm so let me enlighten you. <div><br></div><div>I work swing shift. It means that I don't start work until well into the afternoon. (I'm not posting my exact schedule online, sorry). So for "normal" people, if you wake up at, say, <b>6am</b> you need to go to bed around <b>10pm</b> to get your 8 hours of sleep. Now, if you work till,say, <b>midnight</b> (because you're on swing shift), I can guarantee that you're not going to be able to fall asleep immediately after work. At least not if you're in a field like mine where lives depend on the fact that you are alert and thinking until the very end of your shift. So my guess is the average person would be asleep by <b>3am</b>. 8 hours of sleep takes you to <b>11am</b>. And that is IF you're not working overtime or delayed by something. </div><div><br></div><div>So, my dear friends, getting up in the middle of the afternoon might not be your "normal", but it doesn't mean I'm being lazy or sleeping in every day. Don't tell me I'm lucky....I'm just getting my 8 hours like everyone else. Probably less actually. So when people act like I should just be able to get up at 8am to meet them somewhere, it makes me frustrated. I'm not being difficult--just imagine being told <i>you</i> needed to wake up at 2 or 3am on a work day....</div><div><br></div><div>Ok ok rant over.</div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-48746851979417959672013-12-18T22:19:00.001-08:002013-12-18T22:26:17.881-08:00All the single ladies....Pastor Mark made a super interesting comment the other day. Instead of just making a list of things you want in a spouse, make a list of things you want to <i>be</i> for your future spouse.<div><br></div><div>A best friend. I want to be the first person he thinks of texting when he hears a funny story or wants to complain about the overtime at work. Who he pictures going with him to the Seahawks game. </div><div><br></div><div>An encourager. I want to help him pursue his dreams. On those days that just suck, I want to speak words of life to him. To find ways to let him know I care and am behind him 100%. </div><div><br></div><div>A helper. And it kills me because every feministic bone in my body is screaming at me for typing that. But it's true. I want to make a beautiful and relaxing home. I want to make breakfast for 2 in the morning, and spaghetti for dayssss. I want to help him fix the car and mow the lawn. I want to work hard in my career field to help make money not so much of an issue.</div><div><br></div><div>A mom. I want to have a big family with so much love and patience and jokes and silliness and loud laughter. I want to teach my kids what the difference is between chloroform and chlorophyll. I want to let them watch "Up" while we're all snuggled up on the couch. I want them to "read" their Bible with me before bed, and to get to tell them the Jesus stories over and over. I want to have foster kids who rebel and make us want to cry.</div><div><br></div><div>A sister in Christ. I want to go to church together. To sing about Jesus together. To pray together every day. To ask him tough questions and discuss our thoughts. To hold him accountable in the areas he's struggling with. To lead a community group with him.</div><div><br></div><div>That's just the beginning. I want to be someone he's proud of. When I walk in the bar while he's talking with his friends, I want him to be so excited to tell his friends "that's my wife!!" </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-42332677124839019062013-12-15T00:36:00.001-08:002013-12-15T00:39:43.466-08:00You take brokenness aside and make it beautifulI believe that the world is a beautiful place. I have to. <div><br></div><div>At the risk of sounding conceited, I'm going to say it anyway--I have a really hard job. This week I spent 20 hours listening to people's problems. As 911 operators we are taught to let it roll off you. Someone starts yelling at you because the police didn't respond the first time they whined about the noise next door? Let it go. Someone starts ranting about how terrible you are at your job? Let it go. Someone starts getting impatient because you ask them to repeat things? Let it go. Your officer asks you for the <i>third</i> time to repeat that plate? Let it go. Your officer gets frustrated because you aren't fast enough? Let it go. Your officer isn't paying attention to his radio? Let it go.</div><div><br></div><div>This week I hit a point with a couple calls where I couldn't let it go. I can still hear her voice ringing in my ears. The sound of her desperately trying to keep it together for her small child while the horror of what just happened starts creeping in. The panic turning to tears. "I'm going to burn these clothes." </div><div><br></div><div>I have to believe the world is a beautiful place, because I know it's full of dirty, broken things. I have first hand knowledge of what human beings can do to each other. I also know that the world is beautiful because of its creator. People are imperfect, rotten, and evil. Jesus loves people so much that he made an incredible sacrifice. God made the flowers. He made the blue sky and the beach. He made pristine snow and puppies to romp through it. He makes beautiful things out of dust. He takes brokenness aside and makes it beautiful.</div><div><br></div><div>Some people call it optimism, others say "oh don't worry, with time you'll become cynical like us." I have to believe the world is a beautiful place because I don't WANT to be like them. I want to always care about how that CPR in progress call ended. I want my heart to always hurt when someone goes to jail. I love what I do. It really has to be a field you're called into, not just a job. Friends and family will never know how it drains you, how you can differentiate between types of crying over the phone. You tell them the funny stories because those are the ones you want to remember.</div><div><br></div><div>I believe the world is a beautiful place. Because I have to.</div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-90819168922131202632012-09-01T12:01:00.000-07:002012-09-02T19:35:21.303-07:00Dance all night, there's no end in sightOkay, here I go. God is SO good. It's been really easy for me to forget that I'm only where I'm at right now because God made all the little things fall into place. I just finished my first phase of training at work. I'll actually miss training a lot because our trainer was amazing and the three of us who were <i>being</i> trained had a blast together. Now I move to phase 2--answering live calls all day every day.<br />
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It's an incredible job. Every day I answer a 911 line that connects people to the help they need. Sometimes we save lives. It's MUCH more difficult than I thought it'd be, but it's also really exciting. So starting tomorrow I'm working full 10-hour days. woooo</div>
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I just e-mailed someone at church about finding a new community group....I'm SO excited about that.</div>
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I should be moving into an apartment in early October. !!!!!</div>
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I heard from the soldier I adopted and I'm blown away by how much he appreciates the little things that we do. It's such a rewarding thing. </div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-6876999203065328722012-08-28T17:10:00.000-07:002012-08-28T17:10:06.320-07:00I was doing SO well about posting. I'm still alive, I promise. I started working about 2 1/2 weeks ago and LOVE my job. The bummer is that I don't have internet access at the house right now, hence the rare updates. But someday I'll get access and write a nice little post. Don't worry--I haven't forgotten about you all :)Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-88269149928527898672012-08-10T18:39:00.001-07:002012-08-10T18:43:54.061-07:00Just breathe in the air, and blink in the light<div style="text-align: center;">
Today.</div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So much is happening. all the time, every day. Classes, work, driving, running errands, seeing friends, it's easy to get caught up in doing life. But how often are we really thankful for today? How often do we waste time--the precious time we're given. Funny story is that I'm thinking about this for 2 reasons. One, I've been wasting time watching Grey's Anatomy and watching fictional characters whose lives are altered unexpectedly all the time. And two, 3 Special Forces Marine soldiers were<a href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/sns-rt-us-afghanistan-shootingbre87907q-20120809,0,7276803.story" target="_blank"> killed today</a>. </span><br />
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When I found out that 3 soldiers were killed, before I knew they were Marines, my heart almost stopped. You see, this afternoon I just went shopping for my adopted soldier's August care package. A few weeks ago I sent brownies to a soldier friend who has been going through some really rough times. And today I got my first e-pal soldier's contact info. Before I started working with <a href="http://lostlosingloved.blogspot.com/2012/08/theres-no-reason-you-should-ever-have.html" target="_blank">Soldier's Angels</a>, the war in Afghanistan was just something that I heard about on the news. Now, I'm invested in the lives of three courageous men who are fighting and sacrificing every day so that we have the freedom to sit on our bums and waste life.<br />
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That doesn't seem right to me.<br />
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I'm not saying we have to do something brilliant every single moment of every single day, but I know I can at least do <span style="font-size: large;"><i>something</i> </span>every day. Maybe it's speaking Jesus into someone's life at a coffee date. Maybe it's writing an encouraging Facebook post on someone's wall. Maybe it's sending that care package to a soldier. It could even be giving grace to someone I'm frustrated with. I just know I want to stop doing life and start <i>living</i> in a way that is worthy of the gifts I have been given.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">What did you do <b><i>today</i></b>?</span></div>
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<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/AVvXsEhoeR2O9BQYCf0HzAGTSW4jRBZQB2Nkiq7q7S49D1bVjdi3Qu9i7UTvMvEP_ACrRQJOlhxJAdvUhUS6_wtINgSCEdIk0mXHEtteC4rN5xyxb1kQhn2TQGYz1Vns3W5Gvz5ZdKKY5n0NS2g/s1600/IMG_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeR2O9BQYCf0HzAGTSW4jRBZQB2Nkiq7q7S49D1bVjdi3Qu9i7UTvMvEP_ACrRQJOlhxJAdvUhUS6_wtINgSCEdIk0mXHEtteC4rN5xyxb1kQhn2TQGYz1Vns3W5Gvz5ZdKKY5n0NS2g/s320/IMG_0044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Back to School care package :)</td></tr>
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<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-16517869070233763302012-08-09T13:47:00.001-07:002012-08-09T14:46:04.964-07:00I'm addicted and I just can't get enoughI love <a href="http://pinterest.com/wilkea/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>. Especially now, as I'm starting to figure out what I want my apartment to look/be like. One brilliant thing I found is the blog <a href="http://www.blissfulanddomestic.com/2012/06/how-does-she-live-on-budget.html" target="_blank">Blissful and Domestic</a>. She gives wonderful ideas for how to live on a budget. This shall be my project when I start working next week. I figure, I'll have 2 months to plan a budget, work on shopping at thrift stores for stuff, and get in a routine before I move and throw a wrench in everything.<br />
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Right now, the plan is to hit Ikea after I see the actual space I'll be living in. I've already assembled a pallet TV stand, ransacked Value Village for kitchen stuff, and repaired my little old car's broken parts all by myself (with a little help from my dad and <a href="http://www.1aauto.com/" target="_blank">1A Auto</a>). I think the next thing on my to-do list will be these:<br />
<img height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6cLdgJ1eNEuLB8Uq6dSwTjXpjNKC0_EfTC7OqzB1FkkB8NaHIbhnKj6XQsY5mfTbOln52KYuREOuYp7Xt2AeoGOAd5JdR60QvY0Sh19S5EVds3Bwnr-NATJx5IjqxAFDczw_e2SAe3k/s400/canvas+photos7.jpg" width="400" />
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<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;"><img height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFgVRiUDcn97NqVt5mYDVJ1WkoDVfkBXOykYmVDd2U4fhpBkyV8cov7SNJ5BGcA6WJNo0KENGu7Bk49qoQQz_uLHMz38sYRoFl6boIn7D7p4DfXY1_GSOcNJBOP8OUDWN_mkK4FKODDk/s400/canvas+photos6.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thegirlinspired.com/2011/07/instant-gratification-canvas-photo-diy.html">http://www.thegirlinspired.com/2011/07/instant-gratification-canvas-photo-diy.html</a>
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<br />
DIY canvas photos. I plan on having pictures everywhere in my house, so this is awesome. Between those and these:<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;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRBUXwWJlyRmf1VxvTw0JqHsGR6B9OIB-ahrsrV3C7pa8Y1pJ-MyUZe55bkMf2Zwv5SV2zGLG4URYZaaCL5HkrHAOQbpv3uo-dSqnQ4_NGPYBPkL71vUgtp4uDMn5MOlLB2y2D8OZ5a0/s320/Spoon+and+Fork+Vintage+Art.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://diy-vintage-chic.blogspot.com/2012/06/transfer-image-to-wood-tutorial.html">http://diy-vintage-chic.blogspot.com/2012/06/transfer-image-to-wood-tutorial.html</a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaCt7xFVvGbfvkj0hYMrRgRr_5X0a-pDqZo96jenNUhyphenhyphen6JZ-3CZpGLph9vm2sVmF_QlIBRX_BObPBZi3jJN8EtE7CAjTij3tdz0U4nyepRc_ygNRJKSJQWlCLImYipXGNTQx8sVzNn1Y/s1600/2012-06-19_17-32-50_144.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaCt7xFVvGbfvkj0hYMrRgRr_5X0a-pDqZo96jenNUhyphenhyphen6JZ-3CZpGLph9vm2sVmF_QlIBRX_BObPBZi3jJN8EtE7CAjTij3tdz0U4nyepRc_ygNRJKSJQWlCLImYipXGNTQx8sVzNn1Y/s320/2012-06-19_17-32-50_144.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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there will be pictures EVERYWHERE!!! And thus, I am excited.<br />
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And then, there's these:<br />
<a href="http://img3.etsystatic.com/000/0/6374837/il_570xN.295663795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Chicago Ferris Wheel - printed on Recycled Vintage Dictionary Paper - 8x10.5" border="0" height="159" src="http://img3.etsystatic.com/000/0/6374837/il_570xN.295663795.jpg" width="200" /></a><img alt="Seattle Space Needle Building - printed on Recycled Vintage Dictionary Paper - 8x10.5" height="159" src="http://img2.etsystatic.com/000/0/6374837/il_570xN.293311018.jpg" width="200" /><img alt="San Francisco Goldengate - printed on Recycled Vintage Dictionary Paper - 8x10.5" height="159" src="http://img3.etsystatic.com/000/0/6374837/il_570xN.293166567.jpg" width="200" /><img alt="The NY Brooklyn Bridge 02 - printed on Recycled Vintage Dictionary Paper - 8x10.5" height="159" src="http://img2.etsystatic.com/000/0/6374837/il_570xN.293307762.jpg" width="200" /> I'm thinking living room material?<br />
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Oh, I also decided that my kitchen will be coffee-themed, and my bathroom will be duck-themed. very excited.<br />
<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-62762313977514964762012-08-08T00:30:00.001-07:002012-08-08T00:30:26.994-07:00There's no reason you should ever have your head downOk, this is really cool. I can't believe I haven't posted about it yet. One of my favorite TV shows is Army Wives. I dunno why, I just like it. On one episode they mentioned penpals for deployed soldiers. I thought <i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"that's kinda cool..."</span> </i>and googled it. That's how I found <a href="http://www.soldiersangels.org/" target="_blank">Soldier's Angels</a>.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigHul_wCE1vRgsQiAnBMW0LiHfbvpSptITwVY_kjnWZ8j8zxv7iVcjVA76JVKttGeLjcScW2J59_uY1Mj9oc7Pmc4UpzBWX_3LF4rRbb3gmGevlEDq7RSNAzddAqpWpDM0HMRK1Yzogo/s320/Soldiers%2520Angels%2520logo%2520black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigHul_wCE1vRgsQiAnBMW0LiHfbvpSptITwVY_kjnWZ8j8zxv7iVcjVA76JVKttGeLjcScW2J59_uY1Mj9oc7Pmc4UpzBWX_3LF4rRbb3gmGevlEDq7RSNAzddAqpWpDM0HMRK1Yzogo/s320/Soldiers%2520Angels%2520logo%2520black.jpg" /></a></div>
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So, soldiers who are deployed and never get mail or care packages from people back home are entered into a database...either by commanding officers or the soldiers themselves. Then, people in the States can "adopt" one! We send 1 letter every week and 1 care package every month. It might seem like a big commitment, but <i>really</i> these guys and gals are putting their lives on hold for our freedom. and it's fun! </div>
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I was assigned a guy in the Army who is in the Middle East. Soldier's Angels says going into it that you probably won't hear back from your soldier since they're so busy. I haven't heard from mine, but still I get really excited when I think that someone's day might be made a little brighter by such a simple act. </div>
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If you want a ministry, just think about this one!</div>
</div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-66152408543242945342012-08-06T13:01:00.000-07:002012-08-11T00:38:57.920-07:00If you are chilly, here take my sweaterIt's been a while, I know...I'm sorry.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZMyl9dO0JtMTwyW1aZ6BTI-k-CK86B9V-PBc7-JW3kIZf9_J1wp6zf2RhWYZ3F5jITuQaiGnmW8yIYMwEsQ97lUkt5Tcs5xp6yaxznzRk0uDo_AqL0vtCneGG0__rujUzDdH-LzzIZ8/s1600/IMG_6279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZMyl9dO0JtMTwyW1aZ6BTI-k-CK86B9V-PBc7-JW3kIZf9_J1wp6zf2RhWYZ3F5jITuQaiGnmW8yIYMwEsQ97lUkt5Tcs5xp6yaxznzRk0uDo_AqL0vtCneGG0__rujUzDdH-LzzIZ8/s320/IMG_6279.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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2 weeks ago, my wonderful friend Laura married the man of her dreams. Laura's wedding was gorgeous, and I was reminded again of how beautiful marriage can be. There have been SO many weddings and engagements this summer. It has lead to many conversations about marriage and love with some of my friends. All I can say is I know it will be a challenge, but I'm looking forward to being on mission with whatever man God has planned for me. </div>
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Speaking of engagements, one of my favorite people, Caroline, got engaged a few weeks ago. This is one wedding that I am BEYOND excited for. Caroline lives in Chicago and goes to college in Michigan. I flew out to meet her-then-boyfriend, Jack and to hang out with Caroline. Let me tell you, I was so nervous about meeting him. What if I didn't like him? What if there was just something weird about him? What if he didn't like me? He and I ended up having a little witty banter argument like Caro and I did all the time. All I remember is he got the better of me in the "argument" and that's when I knew he was the right guy for her. Now they're getting married in June. Yay. :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoo8VwLyL98VQZT3f5V7pieNtlLr4L_om4mcnTfTp6EaCY4ovqGDFj2_zIs-MUXjr9kchyphenhyphenft9QNq8ghqxrnYJ5poUZp0jEFozUTN1RPAVX1Ql6S6OiJ0eYfXLl8RFvyzAaY5ewKc83Gw/s1600/IMG_6363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoo8VwLyL98VQZT3f5V7pieNtlLr4L_om4mcnTfTp6EaCY4ovqGDFj2_zIs-MUXjr9kchyphenhyphenft9QNq8ghqxrnYJ5poUZp0jEFozUTN1RPAVX1Ql6S6OiJ0eYfXLl8RFvyzAaY5ewKc83Gw/s320/IMG_6363.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I also got to spend 4 days in Eburg with these ladies and Shannon. It was such a great time, and God repaired a very strained friendship with one of them. Plus, I got to go home and see all my friends from school!!<br />
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Oh yeah, and about a week ago, I accepted a job offer. No big deal. My new hometown has a Mars Hill Church and a guide dog group, so I'm set.<br />
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Now, I just get to make sure I see everyone before I leave.<br />
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All of these are evidences of God's amazing grace and love. I'm so humbled.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-52524339951067386342012-07-20T23:47:00.000-07:002012-07-20T23:51:30.474-07:00Calm in the stormLast night at 10pm, Hollie and I lined up to see the premiere of the 3rd Batman movie. Little did we know that about an hour later, people watching the same movie in Colorado would be in the midst of a shooting.<br />
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It's still kind of surreal. Facebook is full of posts about how guns should be banned. Petitions are being signed, and so many people are angry. More than anything, I'm sad. Sad that someone would get to a place in his life that he would do something like this. Sad for the families of the 12 dead movie-goers, <i>and</i> for the family of the gunman. Sad that things like this are used as fuel on the "anti-gun" fire. Sad when I think of how many people must feel hopelessness and intense grief.<br />
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I found <a href="http://aminiatureclaypot.wordpress.com/2012/07/20/so-you-still-think-god-is-a-merciful-god/" target="_blank">this article</a> posted on Facebook today. It's from a woman who was <i>there</i> and she talks about how God is merciful even in the midst of stuff like this. How cool is that. Sure, there were some snarky comments by readers about how useless religion is (okay, really people? You're entitled to your own beliefs....but she is too...so why attack her beliefs when she doesn't attack yours? *rant ended*), but it's still a beautiful post about God's love and his nature. Read it if you get a chance.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-86155810748496545082012-07-02T22:17:00.001-07:002012-07-02T22:21:22.881-07:00Only the good die youngToday the world lost a great guy. One of my 19-year-old residents, an avid and amazing climber, a unique individual, a man who loved a diverse array of people, and the boyfriend of a wonderful, sweet young lady died in a climbing accident. Such a heavy heart. So many tears. I don't know what to do or say. I pray for his family and girlfriend. I don't know if he was a Christian or not, and I can only pray that God's love will be seen through the tragedy. I have no other words.<br />
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</tbody></table>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-45635641996446016262012-06-30T13:11:00.000-07:002012-06-30T17:14:43.626-07:00While angels in His presence sang, until the courts of heaven rangWe've had a couple days of summer this week, and it's been really nice. The best part of this week has been re-connecting with so many people. I got to have a wonderful, Jesus-filled lunch with Miss Cortney, picnic'd with my favorite Brittney, spontaneously went downtown with Shannon (I love that I don't see her very often, but whenever I do, it's like we haven't ever been apart), visited the farmer's market with <a href="http://lostlosingloved.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-hero-2.html" target="_blank">Heather</a>, and yesterday I went downtown again with Jill and Shannon (oh yeah, Jill is back from India for 2 weeks. This is awesome).<br />
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I wasn't planning on blogging today, but I've been thinking. :) It all started this morning when I realized I don't really have anything to do, so I can go to a park and hang out with Jesus, my journal, and maybe the <a href="http://lostlosingloved.blogspot.com/2012/04/but-i-wont-forget-ones-that-i-love.html" target="_blank">book </a>we never finished reading. I realized I've never really sat down and gotten back into "quiet time" since I've been back. I also neglected finding a community of Christians to do life with because I didn't want to make friends and then move for a job. This excuse completely disappeared when Heather told me to come to their community group. Thus, I am going. </div>
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Then, a friend posted this <a href="http://thenatos.blogspot.com/2012/06/trouble-with-looking-sexy.html" target="_blank">link </a>on Facebook. The thinking continued. I've heard the modest talks a million times. I know in my head that wearing certain things is just not okay. But I rarely actually think about <i>why</i>. Why is it that even Christian ladies feel the need to show off their bodies? <i>Why I</i> wear certain things? I've always battled with the idea of what it means to find complete identity in Jesus. So maybe, indeed, we do what we know we shouldn't because we don't understand that Jesus is everything. I don't need to be attractive to guys...Jesus can fill that void. Now I just need to figure out how to put that thought into practice.</div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-6838604978899781532012-06-25T21:54:00.000-07:002012-06-25T21:54:49.021-07:00I never heard a sweeter voice, it made my aching heart rejoice!My take-away from church this week: no matter where you're at, it's a good time to be talking about how amazing Jesus is. For me it's been easy to ignore the fact that I'm at a really nice transition phase right now. Instead of being thankful for the time I get to spend with my family, cooking new recipes, and working out, I've just wanted to get a job. But I'm going to choose to focus on how awesome Jesus is for helping me pass all my dispatcher tests, for giving me an opportunity to get back in good shape, and for my new little car!<br />
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Speaking of cooking, today I made <a href="http://homeiswheretheholmansare.blogspot.com/2011/12/cheese-stuffed-everything-pretzels.html" target="_blank">Cheese Stuffed Everything Pretzels</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Jlz94oHlvR8NP8_W5rgiSas6LftRUJ9kaycqy4dBgYvqHBOQgIpUFSw5kZcmwi3UVFyXEHt89tn5puYFyFoAFpDIC4ZRd0S982mdaGmLHQa0BeiKfj5vFRG_d6YDJMbm6wMTYdLUDzw/s1600/IMG_6227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Jlz94oHlvR8NP8_W5rgiSas6LftRUJ9kaycqy4dBgYvqHBOQgIpUFSw5kZcmwi3UVFyXEHt89tn5puYFyFoAFpDIC4ZRd0S982mdaGmLHQa0BeiKfj5vFRG_d6YDJMbm6wMTYdLUDzw/s320/IMG_6227.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjGELT3gr_NUUF65kO7zg9lOo2WREa51MbWiNnqe_KIVzAfHpwAxgrsklQCI6B1vJnJREO4QoFDqjW9Nq_PQ5HInw6XcGlxgsasEbb6bwLGlDm-nDb0bpFFYHc8Df1aD4NE9bOx7OYfE/s1600/IMG_6226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjGELT3gr_NUUF65kO7zg9lOo2WREa51MbWiNnqe_KIVzAfHpwAxgrsklQCI6B1vJnJREO4QoFDqjW9Nq_PQ5HInw6XcGlxgsasEbb6bwLGlDm-nDb0bpFFYHc8Df1aD4NE9bOx7OYfE/s320/IMG_6226.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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They're yummmy!! I think in the future I would like them to be a bit smaller...more of a snack size. But other than that they turned out really well! Pretty easy to make, too. </div>
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I'm off to prep for my oral board tomorrow!</div>
<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-84942417670420682202012-06-21T11:00:00.002-07:002012-06-21T11:00:48.798-07:00FooooodI've had all these recipes on Pinterest for a while, but at school we don't really have the ability to make them. I mean, I could go out and buy a ton of supplies but then I'd have left-overs. What does a college student do with a box of corn starch? So since I'm at my parents' house, they already have the ingredients and help me eat whatever I make! Win-win. <div>
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Two weeks ago I made <a href="http://cookiesandcups.com/chocolate-chip-cookie-mousse-bomb/" target="_blank">these</a>. They were AMAZING. And delicious. And super easy!</div>
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This week, I made <a href="http://jamiecooksitup.blogspot.com/2012/03/cheesy-pesto-pull-apart-bread.html" target="_blank">Cheesy Pesto Pull-Apart Bread</a>. Again, pretty delicious and easy. I'm not a food photographer, but this is what it looked like.</div>
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I'm still trying to decide what to make next. I mean hey, when else am I going to have free ingredients and time to make yummy food!</div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2119849580089781483.post-49751262805425434402012-06-17T20:26:00.000-07:002012-06-17T20:26:46.195-07:00Oh the love that sought me!We sang this at church. I think it's my new favorite worship song obsession:<br />
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;"><a href="http://marshill.com/music/albums/already-not-yet" target="_blank"><b>In Tenderness</b></a></span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">In tenderness he sought me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Weary and sick with sin</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">And on his shoulders brought me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Back to his fold again</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">While angels in his presence sang</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Until the courts of heaven rang</span><br />
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Oh the love that sought me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Oh the blood that bought me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Oh the grace that brought me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">To the fold</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Wondrous grace that brought me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">To the fold</span><br />
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">He washed the bleeding sin wounds</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">And poured oil and wine</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">He whispered to assure me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">"i've found you, you are mine,"</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">I never heard a sweeter voice</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">It made my aching heart rejoice</span><br />
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">He pointed to the nailâ©prints</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">For me his blood was shed</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">A mocking crown so thorny</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Was placed upon his head</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">I wondered what he saw in me</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">To suffer such deep agony</span><br />
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">I'm sitting in his presence</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">The sunshine of his face</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">While with adoring wonder</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">His blessings i retrace</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">It seems as if eternal days</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">Are far too short to sound</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">His praise</span><br />
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">So while the hours are passing</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">All now is perfect rest</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">I'm waiting for the morning</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">The brightest and the best</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">When he will call us to his side</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">To be with him</span><br />
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;">His spotless bride.</span>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span><br />
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In other news, I have a car now. Yay! I'll introduce him formally in another post. And I'm going to try to make one new recipe per week. Most of them I've found on Pinterest and look scrumptious. Stay tuned for reports on those endeavors.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17585804156716320129noreply@blogger.com0