tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22972200132913876452024-03-05T13:08:37.698-08:00Story of One's Own"Stories have the power to heal, to make the world new again" - Christopher VoglerHollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.comBlogger440125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-79279346210706066382018-04-15T06:44:00.002-07:002018-04-15T06:45:04.500-07:00The home stretch of high school<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Here she is. The senior. Last semester of high school. She doesn't like this picture. It was a quick take picture for a scholarship application...I think she threw on the sweater at the last minute because we realized a t-shirt picture didn't look professional. She stood against the wall in our dining room and "snap" the picture was done. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_ziCZQvsUjhGJHKd3_2OhrdinAx3xs4MX8VSQufg-5NP-Ed-3_IY0P6zc_MVzz4cF22uTsoe4gRo4OxWCGmlZikG6CRqWzD-0Nusn8LbVWAhElzOodFXI0rIDi7gEjz23zuUfGcljBBp/s1600/Madilyn+Abbe+Headshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_ziCZQvsUjhGJHKd3_2OhrdinAx3xs4MX8VSQufg-5NP-Ed-3_IY0P6zc_MVzz4cF22uTsoe4gRo4OxWCGmlZikG6CRqWzD-0Nusn8LbVWAhElzOodFXI0rIDi7gEjz23zuUfGcljBBp/s320/Madilyn+Abbe+Headshot.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;">She got accepted to BYU, and there was much celebration. There was only about two seconds of hesitation when her finger hovered over the "accept" button. Should she wait to hear from UVA? Nope. Click "accept"!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Since then it has been a flurry of scholarship essay writings and applications. Nearly every evening Madi asks me to read through an essay or sign a stack of completed applications. Hours of work. But they are paying off. So far, she has won three scholarships: Daughters of the American Revolution, Sigma Mu Mu, and Lee Jackson Essay contest. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
She found a roommate through a BYU Instagram search which reminded me strangely of a speed dating experience. Technology is amazing, and Madi and Mackenzie (from Houston, TX) have already signed up for housing together. Heritage Halls filled up fast, so they settled for Hinckley Hall in Helaman Halls. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This girl has focus and purpose. I am thrilled for her. And as I watch her pursue her goals with determination and self-motivation, I am a proud mama.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxj3cPSLGQb_3LxQKTbUBVvwTpjZJCt4L11TY5pD9B9RWLICFxPu2hckrjx9kSa-r-bE_ediH9RFmtacad7jWGM1O7Vxl-oVU2iI-C3YYXiqgmhY-dX8xavJhKWFLld0BVy8_DOCBIhhyphenhyphen/s1600/Madi_Baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxj3cPSLGQb_3LxQKTbUBVvwTpjZJCt4L11TY5pD9B9RWLICFxPu2hckrjx9kSa-r-bE_ediH9RFmtacad7jWGM1O7Vxl-oVU2iI-C3YYXiqgmhY-dX8xavJhKWFLld0BVy8_DOCBIhhyphenhyphen/s320/Madi_Baby.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
This is such a mixed-emotion time. Of course, I'm thrilled for the future...for the next chapter of her life with college, learning, friends, and independence. But how strange it is to realize she will spend more of her life out of my home than she spent in my home. I will miss her. Dearly. I will always cheer her on...and we will (thanks to the beauty of smartphones) stay in touch easily. But it will be different.<br />
<br />
So how do I reconcile the two "Madis"? The Madi as a baby and child and adolescent. Her very existence affected every part of my daily life. To the adult Madi. Who will forever be connected to me, but with a natural, and necessary "disconnect." I suppose, I will just be grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to mother her and grateful to see the person she is becoming.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-39023641324896204072018-01-02T05:07:00.000-08:002018-01-02T05:08:06.596-08:00Spring Break (2017) - A Catch-up PostFurry running companions led us through through the sleepy streets of Fort Payne and past the spooky, abandoned hospital.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoxXZv7M7J3wlWPssvneNPM5wZsx0PRQ2lGhtAEj6RDzzhOHIFbo1MWCnIf5qZA0vQTwj4H5veg1zTgkHnH_SaDv5iCQ9Il-av4dRJun_1c09uTGfHqj1JtrhzOZye-nt0QJJ1hb3FXP4/s1600/IMG_7275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoxXZv7M7J3wlWPssvneNPM5wZsx0PRQ2lGhtAEj6RDzzhOHIFbo1MWCnIf5qZA0vQTwj4H5veg1zTgkHnH_SaDv5iCQ9Il-av4dRJun_1c09uTGfHqj1JtrhzOZye-nt0QJJ1hb3FXP4/s320/IMG_7275.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Birmingham, Alabama greeted us with green. The lime green of the newest spring leaves. My eyes, still used to the browns of winter from the north took refuge in the green. After touring the museum across the street from the infamous church it felt strange to linger in warm sunshine and lush greens. My mind wrestled with the hurt and hate documented in the museum while listening to the laughter of Charlotte and Joseph as they posed with the statues.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZG72K4GhMqmp4Knqvc12sLXw6DZ3lGyRGkfQSnfPVS05R_ZeNX8crc5G7M_vz-PzJszjGqOCdd7PmzmS9Bf6VAGk3WIIhwdH1VL2q9jOe16Kgs_S6A-su69v3ad53lS2ElCuBXnvGXg19/s1600/IMG_7287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZG72K4GhMqmp4Knqvc12sLXw6DZ3lGyRGkfQSnfPVS05R_ZeNX8crc5G7M_vz-PzJszjGqOCdd7PmzmS9Bf6VAGk3WIIhwdH1VL2q9jOe16Kgs_S6A-su69v3ad53lS2ElCuBXnvGXg19/s320/IMG_7287.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUZEK2fcR1lC5YOJQ81_8Z6xnqkDijcOa8IFLcs1JxK5U0ZEkGwntW3ye9_opfrJ2MmQa2dPFmykU1Ez76er2RUWfSxR-S1Op6uteR90fjHGwxllgtxUTpspIyy_SHqstT4TobWNDMklYJ/s1600/IMG_7283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUZEK2fcR1lC5YOJQ81_8Z6xnqkDijcOa8IFLcs1JxK5U0ZEkGwntW3ye9_opfrJ2MmQa2dPFmykU1Ez76er2RUWfSxR-S1Op6uteR90fjHGwxllgtxUTpspIyy_SHqstT4TobWNDMklYJ/s320/IMG_7283.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Grandad and Nana met us with the biggest hugs when we arrived...at 10pm Saturday night. I felt truly welcomed. Spring in Vicksburg is lovely. The blossoms sent their petals spinning through the afternoon air showering us with my favorite kind of "snow" storm.<br />
<br />
Southern-style pigtails for our alligator swamp tour. The hungry boors and friendly racoons were my personal favorites.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6P2qC06g7IAIssoWjkyFrx9XvM6cTCCd7EUBzyVu1CXTQ_HbfwGAQ5tRjdhOGsgIsGUpHRXDyI9_7N3f_KS4xlcclL5DejRn9qc6QpklGqK9DqgMImknnaNDFHHcKvt6g6nKRWnbpbac/s1600/IMG_7356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="1600" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6P2qC06g7IAIssoWjkyFrx9XvM6cTCCd7EUBzyVu1CXTQ_HbfwGAQ5tRjdhOGsgIsGUpHRXDyI9_7N3f_KS4xlcclL5DejRn9qc6QpklGqK9DqgMImknnaNDFHHcKvt6g6nKRWnbpbac/s320/IMG_7356.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I felt like a teenager when Elise and I snuck out of the hotel with Karen, Glen, and Joseph at 9pm to explore New Orleans at night. We ate warm beignets at Cafe Beignet on Royal St to the sound of live jazz. Spontaneous parades of bicycles of blinking lights and glow sticks surprised us; the riders blasted music from a boombox. Darth Vader danced to music on a side street. We averted our eyes or made quick detours out of some of the more "colorful" stores.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYXKMJEt9_leBs7o1He-qpnS9R2y3mNGOBL9NUOa3cvKowTxEAc5q3Vu1eaD5wtAss_ALnCK6XvemH_slV8Xw2-UOsYWHwTsyE_SKs4iFYNiw5UjhbILPK4-C3p_WsnhIfxW5mO3kAC8w/s1600/IMG_7363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYXKMJEt9_leBs7o1He-qpnS9R2y3mNGOBL9NUOa3cvKowTxEAc5q3Vu1eaD5wtAss_ALnCK6XvemH_slV8Xw2-UOsYWHwTsyE_SKs4iFYNiw5UjhbILPK4-C3p_WsnhIfxW5mO3kAC8w/s320/IMG_7363.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
A tour of the McRaven House with the girls on our last day in Vicksburg. We pried the tour guide for ghost stories even though it wasn't the official ghost tour.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdwrtLldxe6OQ1v1KrUSp3yewjtB-VIVERqI8MUBM5UOgnUI5ytxV-5jOzklGPiHgnYcCHXtf8e8i-RMQhOcPeApRSDVn1z8_-4omAhTkYm-IbYz-yM5UMOX1ExtHQv3TQFZuou-pLoze0/s1600/IMG_7408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdwrtLldxe6OQ1v1KrUSp3yewjtB-VIVERqI8MUBM5UOgnUI5ytxV-5jOzklGPiHgnYcCHXtf8e8i-RMQhOcPeApRSDVn1z8_-4omAhTkYm-IbYz-yM5UMOX1ExtHQv3TQFZuou-pLoze0/s320/IMG_7408.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
A few more highlights:<br />
Walking across the Selma bridge.<br />
Sonic stops. Many of them! Jackpot of extra cookie dough mix-in.<br />
Karen's food finds including Clumpies ice cream.<br />
Grandad driving over an alligator in the middle of the highway...and feeling the bump as we did the same!<br />
Southern food: hush puppies, fried catfish, and fried green tomatoes on our last night in Vicksburg.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-43522842253684151092017-09-14T06:01:00.000-07:002017-09-14T06:01:45.699-07:00Family and Service<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last weekend, both sets of grandparents joined us at church. Mom and Dad Reed (who are currently serving a mission in Richmond, VA) drove up from their mission. In spite of Mom Abbe's illness, Mom and Dad Abbe drove 16 hours (one direction) to be with us. The occasion? My husband was set apart to serve in the bishopric of our church congregation. This is a big deal for him. In our church, the ministers are not paid; they volunteer their time. This new calling is a wonderful opportunity for service, growth, and testimony building. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2YVSn9uv-aJSINMuDmnlWav3Mn5rYkfKYkeSuNyUuy6pAq03f49DfXYj8S7mPhXjSJYomKnEiSYrQe29W-2MVp3_3TrUZ_DLpL7iS133KcrtSOx-QEB15PUk7-B1Tb9UUTYnOovVDdNZ/s1600/IMG_8224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="640" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2YVSn9uv-aJSINMuDmnlWav3Mn5rYkfKYkeSuNyUuy6pAq03f49DfXYj8S7mPhXjSJYomKnEiSYrQe29W-2MVp3_3TrUZ_DLpL7iS133KcrtSOx-QEB15PUk7-B1Tb9UUTYnOovVDdNZ/s320/IMG_8224.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This position in our church will also impact our family in terms of less time with Owen. His evenings and weekends will include church meetings, training, and administrative work. For Charlotte, the impact is personal. She said, "I won't be able to take a nap with Dad during sacrament meeting anymore!" Yes, they were sleeping partners during last year when Owen was working the crazy night-shift hours. But now, Owen will sit up on the stand with the rest of the bishopric. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As with any substantial change, I've been thinking about the "big-picture" questions lately: the purpose of life, the value of family, and what makes a life worth living. The answers I feel are most genuine are really the most simple. I feel as though I am at my very best when I'm invested in serving others. I've learned this from my own parents and in-laws who delight in service. I've learned this in the walls of my own home as I've tried to focus on my children. The tug and pull of self and service are real. Finding balance is a struggle. But the truth that people, and connecting, and working together bring joy is also real. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I take the most comfort in something my parents reminded me of as they were walking out the door, bags in hand, ready to drive back to Richmond. "Your life is mirroring our life," my mom said. "When you were a senior in high school, I served in the stake and Dad served in the bishopric." My memories of that time are sweet. It was a busy time, no doubt! I remember driving from event to event, often with my mom. I have a vague recollection of watching my dad sit on the stand or conduct sacrament meeting, instead of sitting next to us on the bench. These are happy memories. Good memories. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Memories worth repeating. </div>
<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-27793696168247385782017-08-13T18:25:00.001-07:002017-08-13T18:25:58.643-07:00Loudoun County Fair 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The fair began with a bang this year as Elise won Junior Miss County Fair and Amelia was the runner up! The girls answered their questions with sincerity, personality, and eloquence. I knew Elise was a front runner when she answered the question, "What is your long term 4H goals?" with the joke, "World peace for the children...through bunnies!"And I loved when Amelia exclaimed, "You can show your animals all year long!" </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSZ_BuzWxw4PXpWGKd8uGiWgaL1JKh6Ui6A8SnOKbyr4lwYazVeZzqPwfRrFYHSC2D1p5sYRLGHYhxE5dda4bP4f0GmA-I7HzaSkWSsdZaiB7tny66FVvte7NVuj0EBZkE8_aSPe3Hy7L/s1600/SOSL1183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSZ_BuzWxw4PXpWGKd8uGiWgaL1JKh6Ui6A8SnOKbyr4lwYazVeZzqPwfRrFYHSC2D1p5sYRLGHYhxE5dda4bP4f0GmA-I7HzaSkWSsdZaiB7tny66FVvte7NVuj0EBZkE8_aSPe3Hy7L/s320/SOSL1183.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The rest of the week was filled with the best of fair: demolition derby night, frozen turtle pie on a stick, bunny dress up, circus acts, and carnival rides. We spent our days hanging out in the bunny barn, and on the best days, we stayed until past the evening entertainment to close up the barn. There is something so exciting about the morning setup - watching vendors organize their stalls, seeing the animals be fed, being one of the first people on the fairground. And nothing is quite as magical as the lights of ferris wheel at night or the cheers from the crowd during the nighttime bull ride. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgXhvGq53uNNWcDJCUZCZoo3U-1pkOUuO-qTG6XQhPeZt093ZWpdH-bu9-GQme3lYcIL_YgYucRSDeZa8SZ90LwByGBLEhabFs6m8dLuTagkCLw3antPxEnvggHNi7rUC1B-ubuUEs8td/s1600/IMG_8075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDp6eN_MKkVsipzvtoq_I1ZpvS-nl5s03H1jSbN3oO6gicgn5Bd8c-Z7dC1cgZ2rGJZaT4W-YLg7HHjnI1xp1npRZaKf44wZkDe5Cv2Kzob657BeCsOK16IiPFOVFizBv1Yo6vENSVT9R/s1600/IMG_8072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDp6eN_MKkVsipzvtoq_I1ZpvS-nl5s03H1jSbN3oO6gicgn5Bd8c-Z7dC1cgZ2rGJZaT4W-YLg7HHjnI1xp1npRZaKf44wZkDe5Cv2Kzob657BeCsOK16IiPFOVFizBv1Yo6vENSVT9R/s320/IMG_8072.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0miTmn7iaChdCw17aMAzvWz7wmhIRIfGVtxzAwwCCFLt8GdyMT53GRed0_Q9bCSbYZyIja2Z6qsvfA4otoaPHR-aHXVfO1dEMEFygLIwNwPop56ZzWp6ybVS82OOomYJ8_VkFegatuMv/s1600/IMG_8034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0miTmn7iaChdCw17aMAzvWz7wmhIRIfGVtxzAwwCCFLt8GdyMT53GRed0_Q9bCSbYZyIja2Z6qsvfA4otoaPHR-aHXVfO1dEMEFygLIwNwPop56ZzWp6ybVS82OOomYJ8_VkFegatuMv/s320/IMG_8034.jpg" width="240" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqM8LfkNhJ3nsL83CHhykcqRqaQM5MyjyHF1ZAxHwRpcsB92tbsY0a6-JCTwi5gNyLrqayQ52kMaL4M-HujZcB2OE9AMjwnRKBr4m5masoqxgvlW20TgDTtPVA3UyWjEWd2RTbRQ3BBlrz/s1600/IMG_8074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqM8LfkNhJ3nsL83CHhykcqRqaQM5MyjyHF1ZAxHwRpcsB92tbsY0a6-JCTwi5gNyLrqayQ52kMaL4M-HujZcB2OE9AMjwnRKBr4m5masoqxgvlW20TgDTtPVA3UyWjEWd2RTbRQ3BBlrz/s320/IMG_8074.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrRkj-tEWah0dclj1tofJf9tBtABH32hC8nxLbucNqY3PsZa_sbnwfkcjWRbBg-OtQ6WzsmsE1FGJ8PgCxmrXKnCVJqe89LcYJkqYrjv8mA08xORbvjrOWPiSPkg0LpiFdvFE0zZbk0nt/s1600/IMG_8049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrRkj-tEWah0dclj1tofJf9tBtABH32hC8nxLbucNqY3PsZa_sbnwfkcjWRbBg-OtQ6WzsmsE1FGJ8PgCxmrXKnCVJqe89LcYJkqYrjv8mA08xORbvjrOWPiSPkg0LpiFdvFE0zZbk0nt/s320/IMG_8049.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
There were a few NEW highlights to our week. Grandma and Poppy came for a visit and shared a day-at-the-fair with us! Elise participated in the hypnosis show. And Madi participated in her first Round Robin competition.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1XllPGT7rEaskKHPYdsFuAxPjD78WIjArRzfLKqX5EFLdspanDT1sn0uoBr14VR514K2FdNv2RrENpBNyqi7A9oJ7sBdnTAmqCJLS_EAozBg-BJJIblppjxrXflBqgYvZcc_eAFdTqcLz/s1600/IMG_8073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1XllPGT7rEaskKHPYdsFuAxPjD78WIjArRzfLKqX5EFLdspanDT1sn0uoBr14VR514K2FdNv2RrENpBNyqi7A9oJ7sBdnTAmqCJLS_EAozBg-BJJIblppjxrXflBqgYvZcc_eAFdTqcLz/s320/IMG_8073.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
And on the last night of fair, I actually had a date night with my favorite person. We watched part of the monster truck show, walked through the blinking lights of the carnival, and shared a treat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmdZ6tzGFLsorJj-LZSFCM4bJ3eG7jkvTeeURwd9_uI8NGZJXqHQMnO_7taCc51IPpOFVhvs_MQslDyxvwpa702EwWvLO1V5jTwpTT4Z9TlSWdPX7rwKdE7kWMwE5v3vVe-yCxTLCaPwkA/s1600/IMG_8075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmdZ6tzGFLsorJj-LZSFCM4bJ3eG7jkvTeeURwd9_uI8NGZJXqHQMnO_7taCc51IPpOFVhvs_MQslDyxvwpa702EwWvLO1V5jTwpTT4Z9TlSWdPX7rwKdE7kWMwE5v3vVe-yCxTLCaPwkA/s320/IMG_8075.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
To me, fair IS summer and summer IS fair. Summer is just not complete without our fair week. It is the culminating fun after a year of meetings, preparation, and work. I love working at the ice cream shack with the kids for that wonderful "free scoop." I love our frenzied baking day and entering cakes into the fair. I love the thrill of auction night, with the 4H kids wearing their freshly-pressed, button-down shirts. I love how by the end of the week, I knew some of the vendors by name, and they knew me. I love the way the cowboys kneel during the prayer before the rodeo. I love waving to the kids while they ride the rides with their friends. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Only 11 months, and we get to do it all over again. I can hardly wait. </div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-91341557159036272432017-07-16T16:33:00.003-07:002017-07-16T16:35:22.302-07:00Sun, Sand, and Ice CreamOh the joys of summer. There was that moment...there on the beach, the sun toasting my skin, my toes digging until they found cool sand, while I watched Owen and Truman work on their masterpiece sandcastle. The ocean spread out before me so big and full of color. I counted at least six variations of blue: cornflower blue in the sky, turquoise, sea green, steel-blue, deep blue (almost navy), and sea foam blue. It was the epitome of summer. Waves crashed, seagulls called, and I bobbed and played in the ocean with my family.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxAvFSzA7AcdhfybLGGMmIWL5Yy_998vWTh6eBuSvanYr9yjkXENTpNSv1vBjWt1mR98THOussZ3Ot374ARLSN33vntpRXzqSRr03cVOYJDAiHmzhGkPYt60EAMBZr8KnG8kcBESIk3aZ/s1600/IMG_7998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxAvFSzA7AcdhfybLGGMmIWL5Yy_998vWTh6eBuSvanYr9yjkXENTpNSv1vBjWt1mR98THOussZ3Ot374ARLSN33vntpRXzqSRr03cVOYJDAiHmzhGkPYt60EAMBZr8KnG8kcBESIk3aZ/s1600/IMG_7998.JPG" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then there was the ice cream: summer's true delight! I loved the sign "Welcome Home" that greeted us as we entered the air-conditioned sanctuary and began to select our flavor for the day. Our first day at the Island Creamery, I figured we frequent the parlor every-other-day. Um. We went. Every. Single. Day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BfwcLByNFUcmtDTBUvMaArF4L-2M1An4_qBFG0NABMdnWycsmg-tYgnpvKnmQ_pnpZN7J_ZmKsFvt_kyVMfLuzZjFoOeLp9Ncq_FO3nZEIeenv8Hhuw8N7lm_WZIqjuxRb4dbEZSXGrn/s1600/IMG_8001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BfwcLByNFUcmtDTBUvMaArF4L-2M1An4_qBFG0NABMdnWycsmg-tYgnpvKnmQ_pnpZN7J_ZmKsFvt_kyVMfLuzZjFoOeLp9Ncq_FO3nZEIeenv8Hhuw8N7lm_WZIqjuxRb4dbEZSXGrn/s1600/IMG_8001.JPG" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Can I just admit that having access to cable TV was also part of the vacation joy? We haven't had cable for three years, which means the only time we ever watch TV is if we're watching a DVD. But for a week, we enjoyed Chopped, NASA's Unexplained Mysteries, and Forensic Files. After a day of sunshine and swimming, it was so nice to sit in comfy chairs, snuggle, and watch fun shows together.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Thursday night, the Marina hosted a kids' pool party. Madi and Elise started their own spontaneous dance party. As the sun set, it painted the world with rose and gold. Somehow that beautiful ocean, looked even more beautiful. The marsh grass glowed in bright lime green. It was magical light. Summer's evening gift. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Ev9vyffRNPatgWlJeDeg1A30dkdAW3UgNwaGnIy5PtyG3qlwJGQ7-g1T1jYyklDCnC7p5woVrrJtku4CSq_wzFxcYkRaVd3ljejXFHEm4myiEBzrr2AexTpsTJDwKl-FkuEfVUQ-AkC5/s1600/IMG_8005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Ev9vyffRNPatgWlJeDeg1A30dkdAW3UgNwaGnIy5PtyG3qlwJGQ7-g1T1jYyklDCnC7p5woVrrJtku4CSq_wzFxcYkRaVd3ljejXFHEm4myiEBzrr2AexTpsTJDwKl-FkuEfVUQ-AkC5/s1600/IMG_8005.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-29969347474549158772017-05-07T19:14:00.001-07:002017-05-07T19:22:39.139-07:00Mormon Prom 2017 A little rain, a bit of mud, lots of pink, a beautiful backdrop, thousands of twinkly lights, and incredible kids were just a few parts that made this year's Mormon Prom memorable. <br />
<br />
First of all, the dress. Oh this was a challenge! Back in February, Madi and I spent a couple weeks pouring over pictures and prices on the internet. There were late-nights of frustration when we decided there was just NO POSSIBLE way we were going to ever find a modest, pale-pink, reasonably-priced dress. We settled on trying one of those "made-to-order" sites where we entered measurements for a custom fit. I think I closed my eyes when I finally clicked "submit" hoping that the Chinese company would actually come through and deliver a dress that looked like the picture. Miraculously, the dress arrived a nail-biting 14 days later. Thankfully, the dress was perfect!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmkLzFNqoskMQImMZOf7HDdgx9sbUL3THo1K0Wfq5zDDrvYmIf_3wum9QmBx1l1c5B1_XgPPuH2y0QfVscmVaPQoTImQeY0UV8_ozFybE0C2GnTP4j0oHmtKpKL8X_kvRWCBxI5qLAVsz/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmkLzFNqoskMQImMZOf7HDdgx9sbUL3THo1K0Wfq5zDDrvYmIf_3wum9QmBx1l1c5B1_XgPPuH2y0QfVscmVaPQoTImQeY0UV8_ozFybE0C2GnTP4j0oHmtKpKL8X_kvRWCBxI5qLAVsz/s320/DSC_0036.JPG" width="212" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLgB2PH9mVBlbxT1GiYP5l_ny1XopJ4TkKy3Py25Rkc3Zw2Q-4OoVq7cWwP3vZN2qwB2l-uLlStec0ZEz5lacbE3WVXKgyauS9Hp6vMxeqOZ5qmFV3aRH6liG1BR7xQunR7_eNWhm1g9P/s1600/IMG_7602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLgB2PH9mVBlbxT1GiYP5l_ny1XopJ4TkKy3Py25Rkc3Zw2Q-4OoVq7cWwP3vZN2qwB2l-uLlStec0ZEz5lacbE3WVXKgyauS9Hp6vMxeqOZ5qmFV3aRH6liG1BR7xQunR7_eNWhm1g9P/s320/IMG_7602.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
The date. Madi was asked by Josh Holtom, a wonderful young man in our stake. They doubled with Mara Berringer (one of Madi's closest friends) and Spencer (one of Josh's closest friends). It was a true date with a special dinner at Lightfoots in Leesburg. I love that it all worked out! The picture of Josh and Madi with the boutonniere are one of my favorites from the night - I had just mentioned something about the huge amount of trust shown during the pinning of a boutonniere. Madi laughed and I think Josh<i> tried</i> to laugh.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Friends. We are so blessed to have an incredible ward with wonderful youth. The Hamilton Ward youth and their friends met at the dramatically picturesque Morvan Park for pictures. We applauded the color coordination of the beautiful ladies.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7KiX_p13wAQMnq5ig1DDiDnYGgOQcUxSlGEpwtTy3kXalvD2oCffD5KpfFpUAwO3nyzui2zXrPHl6_jbQvirx0d5luXhmQ33arFREPAOOO-S9dSRWe9EEvqmw6IGinFSxFVqxr0JUVFp/s1600/861A9900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7KiX_p13wAQMnq5ig1DDiDnYGgOQcUxSlGEpwtTy3kXalvD2oCffD5KpfFpUAwO3nyzui2zXrPHl6_jbQvirx0d5luXhmQ33arFREPAOOO-S9dSRWe9EEvqmw6IGinFSxFVqxr0JUVFp/s320/861A9900.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;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLcgWrDYMUIsu42FpZUJ3oZWx7X3YVujGnUmwq90L77P62xfFtFOrojSiiIQSeRSHKF7SMdAnPUs9h_IcJLkeL6P3U3UpOF-SmCinWxOwOIyqcRI8rVhCSQDtBiIj_D0VxD14gS2ba1b2/s1600/IMG_7661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLcgWrDYMUIsu42FpZUJ3oZWx7X3YVujGnUmwq90L77P62xfFtFOrojSiiIQSeRSHKF7SMdAnPUs9h_IcJLkeL6P3U3UpOF-SmCinWxOwOIyqcRI8rVhCSQDtBiIj_D0VxD14gS2ba1b2/s320/IMG_7661.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
The theme of the dance was "Enchanted Evening." Antique mirrors, garlands, bottle-lights, and paned glass windows decorated the lodge-like setting.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqGT6qbgCBzcAW7liCEReTq_lom4ePCmKyfrFCxI0gfKwQ3Hu2yo-kR_UHDuAQd1hIazCL_2-uGph29m_TWKSL71V9WiPsYJyXJjq6c0xj_pZHB3jxQsvxrI4T1lwWdKoMIy7IOdh3j6y/s1600/IMG_7664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqGT6qbgCBzcAW7liCEReTq_lom4ePCmKyfrFCxI0gfKwQ3Hu2yo-kR_UHDuAQd1hIazCL_2-uGph29m_TWKSL71V9WiPsYJyXJjq6c0xj_pZHB3jxQsvxrI4T1lwWdKoMIy7IOdh3j6y/s320/IMG_7664.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The food was Pinterest-worthy. I mean, really?! 4000 cake pops in a woodland setting, s'mores bar, and Italian Sodas were some of the highlights. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirG7UesQpfiZO_GwsC074glKw8DAcu4TXGa4c7uOSlat2WRIWaaiAQvxH1J1iD8TKBfIAxsgeyKi87fYOQPlmwbBTQPbIcpypk29-UXiqQbnaMcns4fSNv3BvGENoD2JD804dEL5aX7Wyx/s1600/IMG_7669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirG7UesQpfiZO_GwsC074glKw8DAcu4TXGa4c7uOSlat2WRIWaaiAQvxH1J1iD8TKBfIAxsgeyKi87fYOQPlmwbBTQPbIcpypk29-UXiqQbnaMcns4fSNv3BvGENoD2JD804dEL5aX7Wyx/s320/IMG_7669.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The personal highlight - besides seeing my daughter and friends enjoying themselves - was a tiny celebration that passed almost unnoticed. My husband ended his year-long, night-time work schedule Friday night. Which meant that for the first time in a year, we attended an evening event together. We chaperoned the dance. We talked with our friends from the ward and stake, peeked in at Madi (only a couple times), sampled the yummy food many times, and celebrated. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-33614095422376290272017-04-30T18:37:00.001-07:002017-04-30T18:38:20.556-07:00200 Miles Last year my girls and I signed up for craziness: running 200 miles as a relay team from Charlottesville to Williamsburg. When my girls rated their most favorite experiences from 2016, this race was at the top of their list. So, we did it again! This year, we added another Abbe girl.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboLqo8xPRpFRwNmvxp5KODtl47RHfbhoNjwsZeFhZpxL_lszQOzlfXe2ka0qRUw0LagTC98qXMssZ9-EF6d3ftDOEhzsEMDpFcmtX2vPg9P0zbpfyMJnf9KGoPrFaMcmh8xuCwyW0qu-B/s1600/IMG_6215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboLqo8xPRpFRwNmvxp5KODtl47RHfbhoNjwsZeFhZpxL_lszQOzlfXe2ka0qRUw0LagTC98qXMssZ9-EF6d3ftDOEhzsEMDpFcmtX2vPg9P0zbpfyMJnf9KGoPrFaMcmh8xuCwyW0qu-B/s1600/IMG_6215.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I ran my miles, I found myself contemplating the ridiculousness of putting ourselves in this "artificial" extreme situation - very little sleep (if any), long miles, and long car rides in between. I'm guessing my pioneer ancestors would scratch their heads in confusion about this activity. But in the middle of the extremes we found laughter, courage, teamwork, and more laughter. And that's why I love it. It's a break from the normal. It's a goal achieved by relying on each other. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiQdc6L8lHsh-JtaJIBJv-EPQQhK4u0A2mlkbSpyLfjT1-50kPcYML35ug92S3WEL6h-wZimujAtlqka2ABTm3XLm4bVII5lAYkDGWEzrIXU8Y2FiSFtewfr_iqIcwktQXRd-bvdiPg72/s1600/IMG_6172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiQdc6L8lHsh-JtaJIBJv-EPQQhK4u0A2mlkbSpyLfjT1-50kPcYML35ug92S3WEL6h-wZimujAtlqka2ABTm3XLm4bVII5lAYkDGWEzrIXU8Y2FiSFtewfr_iqIcwktQXRd-bvdiPg72/s1600/IMG_6172.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The night time runs included an extra adventure when Elise was startled by barking dogs. I bolted from the car in Mama-bear fashion when I heard her scream, ready to take on the vicious dogs myself. Thankfully, they were fenced. In an act of dedication, Elise decided to finish her leg even after the scary encounter. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYo7szXkuJhlkFK3qT4m7NMCqk00KZQIL7aMvZr6UkzKahHgh-2b89BQzh0xyauSZNNrnPCnNk5lYg8iQgjjFTn4fPrRofCXDN-KJJWHtNOnZ9VnBRb5U7HSLJRfTZSg0chCkO4kGAm8f/s1600/IMG_6198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYo7szXkuJhlkFK3qT4m7NMCqk00KZQIL7aMvZr6UkzKahHgh-2b89BQzh0xyauSZNNrnPCnNk5lYg8iQgjjFTn4fPrRofCXDN-KJJWHtNOnZ9VnBRb5U7HSLJRfTZSg0chCkO4kGAm8f/s1600/IMG_6198.JPG" /></a></div>
More courage was shown by Jess (AKA bandit runner) who completed her legs in spite of terrible allergies and asthma. That girl pulled out her inhaler, medicated herself, donned the scarf (to the envy of all!) and ran! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKolaWfp8gMRPpfi10jCxCs3xS8DvkUOb0pH2e5HdGzk-jGJlYdyYvfVmktIGweNhabLM8FsM1FN2CkVqOV6FFAoldmvD9Pokq4WpOdybPpZqsnEBIzgZtKIA4VZYUEMEzwgBCG9BNr7tO/s1600/IMG_6190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKolaWfp8gMRPpfi10jCxCs3xS8DvkUOb0pH2e5HdGzk-jGJlYdyYvfVmktIGweNhabLM8FsM1FN2CkVqOV6FFAoldmvD9Pokq4WpOdybPpZqsnEBIzgZtKIA4VZYUEMEzwgBCG9BNr7tO/s1600/IMG_6190.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There is something beautiful about watching my girls work together and accomplish hard things. One of my favorite moments of the race was catching sight of Amelia, who ran the last leg of the race. Amelia had been in the other van with her best friend, Melanie, for the duration of the race. When I saw her emerge from the woods with a quarter mile left, I felt so proud of her. I was equally proud and touched to see Melanie at her side. They finished the race together. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghExQtSzgYS5U1G5e1k96SE31AAulwxz_FoNKnpholJ4z2kCT0yawQZbmUWmv-9NvXYa3QRTcpOmUJAxk2Zbyjlijo9TTPD5sigFPOWDtraGSQAY_K6z4QmXwx9dMjGMDdLsJuSpOz_OmC/s1600/friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghExQtSzgYS5U1G5e1k96SE31AAulwxz_FoNKnpholJ4z2kCT0yawQZbmUWmv-9NvXYa3QRTcpOmUJAxk2Zbyjlijo9TTPD5sigFPOWDtraGSQAY_K6z4QmXwx9dMjGMDdLsJuSpOz_OmC/s320/friends.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some more memorable moments:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The gratitude I felt as my head hit the pillow, even if the sleep was only for two hours. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The incredibly rejuvenating feeling of a shower.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Representing OMF again..."See A Cure!"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sweet Frog before second set of legs.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Enjoying the witty banter of Jess and Joseph.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Crazy man riding a bike past the window of the Iron Horse restaurant (those beads and the bonnet).</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Elise's joy at finding a blinkie light during her leg. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The failure to find breakfast...and the glory of finally eating an omelet and pancakes (post race). Sleeping while waiting for our food to arrive. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Marci's comment: "I feel so blessed to do this!"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
High-fiving preschool kids at the end of my first leg.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
"Exchange Zone Ahead" signs. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Cat-fact questions from Van 2. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Having Luke Sauter drive down in the middle of the night to run 13 miles with our team. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Peanut Butter M&Ms. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Madi saying, "You know you're tired when the asphalt feels comfortable."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTaZzRjaURf-6jZlsI_O9qnIGSZUXsoA_aIPb8TzdTRdHvrLx4JyIq-8Xa7E7H6X20v-uCcpO1uUUpi5oBhXsGpO5NF4cxSFEKwxLrtf-G9YmJ2xd53v4kFt9HE1Munit9eV6OHyG18ft/s1600/IMG_6204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTaZzRjaURf-6jZlsI_O9qnIGSZUXsoA_aIPb8TzdTRdHvrLx4JyIq-8Xa7E7H6X20v-uCcpO1uUUpi5oBhXsGpO5NF4cxSFEKwxLrtf-G9YmJ2xd53v4kFt9HE1Munit9eV6OHyG18ft/s1600/IMG_6204.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here's the dream team (from left to right): Jess, Joseph, Jenny, Luke, Melanie, Amelia, Madi, me, Elise, Cori, and Kyle. Way to go! Let's do it again!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmDKFBcO-PNrHJHPVyrfMS-X5SU1bYSeuSc0wbcJ4UoJA9QaGzBxqPoLNWGH1Sl_KAFfl02khG29ALOj_0DYzwKKbnvTrhvIqiyjhX4E2qRKgSJpQAkVPCZd0aMUB6xYztYr9pGD7j-7j/s1600/IMG_6213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmDKFBcO-PNrHJHPVyrfMS-X5SU1bYSeuSc0wbcJ4UoJA9QaGzBxqPoLNWGH1Sl_KAFfl02khG29ALOj_0DYzwKKbnvTrhvIqiyjhX4E2qRKgSJpQAkVPCZd0aMUB6xYztYr9pGD7j-7j/s320/IMG_6213.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-60033212311716831312017-03-09T04:32:00.002-08:002017-03-09T04:32:59.173-08:00What it Takes SometimesFirst, we tackled the Duty to God goal: make a well balanced meal for the family. Truman worked next to me in the kitchen, chopping, mixing, and reading a recipe. We learned an important lesson about<i> not </i>using the same cutting board for raw chicken and broccoli. The end result tasted delicious, "Chicken, snap pea, pineapple stir fry in black bean sauce." But the best learning moment occurred when Truman said, "Cooking dinner takes a lot of multitasking." Yes. Yes it does! This validation was wonderful.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuYA_CBuXj8OweUVoa94c4wX850dSCDdcOUtMTvdxda_RSmKz93rD7_p9JBPNMEidFHcONkxXG1XrGZXNEV1gnewddWtcqv9_gzWAaqtldX42RLb05PVn71zDxKNRuXOOn_NZloKlRmun/s1600/IMG_7057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuYA_CBuXj8OweUVoa94c4wX850dSCDdcOUtMTvdxda_RSmKz93rD7_p9JBPNMEidFHcONkxXG1XrGZXNEV1gnewddWtcqv9_gzWAaqtldX42RLb05PVn71zDxKNRuXOOn_NZloKlRmun/s1600/IMG_7057.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Next we pursued the last minute passing-off of merit badges for the upcoming Board of Review. We drove to two different leader's homes and got things signed off on those blue, rectangle cards.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Of course everything took longer than expected. I had left the kitchen in a state of crazy - the cooked-from-scratch kind of crazy. I had left the other kids to fend for themselves for the evening with their homework and instrument practicing. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And somewhere along the dark, gravel road on the drive back home, I realized that sometimes this is what it takes. Sometimes I have to leave the mess behind. Sometimes I have to leave four other children behind to help one. And I know when my husband is finished with this upheaval of a job, we'll share these jobs and less people in our family will feel left behind. But on this night, it was the best I could do. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I came home to a mostly clean kitchen (yes, angels live in my house!) and a monumental herd of stuffed animals at the top of the stairs where Charlotte had entertained herself. It was a soul-stirring moment when I realized my children also know what it takes: it takes a family. It takes everyone pulling together, working together, pressing forward together. Sometimes we're the ones in the car being helped. And sometimes we're the ones left behind at home to face the mess. Either way, we need each other. </div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-91480257316475391512017-03-05T11:26:00.000-08:002017-03-05T11:26:01.381-08:00Two Days with My DaughterWe cross the street, empty but for the parked cars and a few yellow cabs. The city is strangely quiet for a city that never sleeps. We enter Central Park from the west side near a group of runners who stretch and chat. We pass the arbor made from twisted vines thick as a broomstick handles, a whimsical landmark. We join the Saturday morning runners and begin Madi's birthday run along the paved path. She talks with me, and I cannot now recall our topics. But the sun shines. The sky opens above us like a huge blue umbrella. The city skyline marks the permitter. We marvel at the rooftop luxury apartments with their terraces and trees growing in pots. She tolerates my requests for selfies, and do-over selfies. And six miles later, we find ourselves where we started. The street is a little more crowded. The park holds more runners, dog-walkers, and vendors.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bjkxE-1lMx5egC37SBrrDJtTJSTz4NHOdALi2CBKZHhinKdB7o4UqjSnV3wgoDpXpIOSlJJVJri60cVmzAvE9BTfAOpQiSBKpnx874cvfLA9kg943Ze9u64NYabZKYoGUIHhUGpyfbKP/s1600/IMG_6998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bjkxE-1lMx5egC37SBrrDJtTJSTz4NHOdALi2CBKZHhinKdB7o4UqjSnV3wgoDpXpIOSlJJVJri60cVmzAvE9BTfAOpQiSBKpnx874cvfLA9kg943Ze9u64NYabZKYoGUIHhUGpyfbKP/s1600/IMG_6998.JPG" /></a></div>
I took Madi to NYC for the first time in March 2008. She was eight years old. The highlights of that trip were lunch at the American Girl Store and playing the floor piano at FAO Swartz. It snowed our first night there, large quarter-sized flakes filled the sky soft and white. We purchased "I love NYC" hats because it was colder than we expected.<br />
<br />
Nine years later.<br />
<br />
We consider going back to FAO Swartz to recreate our first NYC memory. Google informs us the iconic toy store on 5th Ave. has closed. We look at each across our slices of perfectly thin pizza in disbelief. It is really closed? There is no more FAO Swartz? And there it is. An ending. A symbolic hint of the changes to come over the next four years. Childhood gone.<br />
<br />
I love this girl of mine. I love her sense of adventure, her love of literature, her gift of words, and her companionship. I love her so much that it aches to think of the coming changes. Sad for me. Happy for her.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzkwswJMihwaMXNI8c-29WfntJvpS4Pr9_gWYD6Pp_O_2ihIFrxbyWaLtXSH-xBh1SLR6WPnl-x8x12i8oswzX27zKQWqXMzG2uzHqdcVIKBQebc-V4j9Q3Uy5YjSjTUR8k8fZQ6jMPj5/s1600/IMG_6980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzkwswJMihwaMXNI8c-29WfntJvpS4Pr9_gWYD6Pp_O_2ihIFrxbyWaLtXSH-xBh1SLR6WPnl-x8x12i8oswzX27zKQWqXMzG2uzHqdcVIKBQebc-V4j9Q3Uy5YjSjTUR8k8fZQ6jMPj5/s1600/IMG_6980.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5AAvkQSnrlMYWLjHUhyTnOv_6jyNYyqtAO-24dX4zmsYtpXeYUIR9nj6IvZSl2ZG7s51hAJxggOwoCy1bR6GM3rGhJDeYii9MIa-COYfRA4FDF9fhyphenhyphenlmr1uY6kuQPOBMm41c8B-qaUpg/s1600/IMG_6986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5AAvkQSnrlMYWLjHUhyTnOv_6jyNYyqtAO-24dX4zmsYtpXeYUIR9nj6IvZSl2ZG7s51hAJxggOwoCy1bR6GM3rGhJDeYii9MIa-COYfRA4FDF9fhyphenhyphenlmr1uY6kuQPOBMm41c8B-qaUpg/s1600/IMG_6986.JPG" /></a></div>
Which, of course, makes this day all the more significant. It turns our morning run into a snatch of perfection. It turns our pizza eating, cookie munching, and restaurant hunting into treasures. They are memories in the making that will linger longer than a toy store, longer than a trip, and certainly longer than a cookie lasts in my tummy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-45073932967714209222017-02-09T05:34:00.000-08:002017-02-09T05:34:14.997-08:00Bunnies Bunnies Everywhere!Picture a warehouse full of long tables, wire cages, and thousands of rabbits. Thousands. There are big rabbits like Flemish Giants that look like medium sized dogs only more fleshy, loppy, and lazy. A young girl lugs one around. Its legs dangle almost to the floor, and its head bobs like a large Raggedy Ann doll. There are the tiny rabbits. The dwarf hotots that look like fancy Guinea pigs wearing eyeliner. And then there are the medium sized rabbits. This is where we fit in, amongst the mini lops with their long wide ears, the dutch with their clean fur lines (like oreos), and the mini rex with their velvety coats. Soon the long tables are filled with waterbottles, towels, hay, grooming kits, and breed standard books.<br />
<br />
It is the PASRBA rabbit show. And it is our first year to come as more than spectators and buyers, but as participants in the youth show.<br />
<br />
We watch the judging begin...all senior buck dutch rabbits are brought to the judging table. The distinguished, white-haired judge looks with a critical eye over the judging stock. Seriously, he looks as though he's walked out of a masterpiece theater episode with his expression of proper distain. All he needs is a pipe and a tweed jacket. The mini lop judge looks like a California beach girl, down to the sunkissed, straight hair and the sunglasses with blue lenses that perch on her head for the entire six hours of judging.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8IaWhxG1ijvvVvTXsumEYhyphenhyphenyz1QFo5-dQbwLVeQu5mIJGb2XYZB59j7zQViw-DckJdkwtARqsTvAmfi2GWZnIT2Vt0lCV1rjDJcar82y3ceVc2lUKdjwVThnMoAOenJN1hfFBzIhtFcg/s1600/IMG_6856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8IaWhxG1ijvvVvTXsumEYhyphenhyphenyz1QFo5-dQbwLVeQu5mIJGb2XYZB59j7zQViw-DckJdkwtARqsTvAmfi2GWZnIT2Vt0lCV1rjDJcar82y3ceVc2lUKdjwVThnMoAOenJN1hfFBzIhtFcg/s320/IMG_6856.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
The rabbits are judged by a "Standard of Perfection." We experience the gamut of results: one disqualification (poor Snoopy!), a third place, a fourth place, and a winner for variety. Amelia's Tetrus, shown below, is awarded first place in Otter category.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFirnuk4IcGXR7DA83MyzhzfhPOJuN3hvsdZPGrsPQXroiBHOyWkcA4gV1hIvFzTUbAxyynPN9-4V0ztRVVCjxGhiAyYq3bHyBPdNx51-Bgu8twpt9FP8ZTGRfNWuFL083m1TtRUxyUZQp/s1600/IMG_6844+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFirnuk4IcGXR7DA83MyzhzfhPOJuN3hvsdZPGrsPQXroiBHOyWkcA4gV1hIvFzTUbAxyynPN9-4V0ztRVVCjxGhiAyYq3bHyBPdNx51-Bgu8twpt9FP8ZTGRfNWuFL083m1TtRUxyUZQp/s320/IMG_6844+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
The true joy comes in selecting new rabbit purchases. We are so grateful for kind, experienced breeders who take the time to teach and train when we purchase a rabbit. These nationally ranked breeders are willing to invest in the 4H-ers. They lower their prices by more than $100/per rabbit.<br />
<br />
We come home with six new rabbits...and a new breed (Netherland Dwarfs for Elise). We also bring home a new set of cages, because, well, SIX new rabbits on top of our somewhat large brood already at home. I have a shocking moment of "What have we done?" when I see our new line up of cages. But then I remind myself that life is short. And bunnies are joy. So the more bunnies, the more joy!<br />
<br />
We stop for dinner because everyone is starving. You get really hungry when the day starts at 4AM. We ride the high of the event; everyone has something to celebrate whether a win or a new rabbit. We splurge and purchase a bakery item for everyone!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7byjqxgwJxZfxtzxo9VcjsJYdZMIsKjGJCMnu5C2-cLzzJTuxbSStzDdI0NxxMQGDGOvx3a0gPbWUwexpXTPIElvmxzDmgDCCJgCkO_JcLcQlWJ1BMKAdRbdlbhyphenhyphenKZCsZYFag9n4L9Eo1/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7byjqxgwJxZfxtzxo9VcjsJYdZMIsKjGJCMnu5C2-cLzzJTuxbSStzDdI0NxxMQGDGOvx3a0gPbWUwexpXTPIElvmxzDmgDCCJgCkO_JcLcQlWJ1BMKAdRbdlbhyphenhyphenKZCsZYFag9n4L9Eo1/s320/FullSizeRender+%25287%2529.jpg" width="299" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When we return home, it is late. But even though it has been a long day, everyone rallies to clean the garage to make room for the new set of cages. We sweep, organize, rearrange, and install plastic sheeting. </div>
<br />
Why do we do this? Why do we turn our garage into a barn? Why do we invest time and money into rabbits? Why do we spend an entire Saturday at a rabbit show? Well number one, it's a family activity. Rabbits are the only activity, besides church, that<i> every</i> member of the family can do together. My teenagers are as engaged as my eight year old. Number two, cuteness!! Oh we love these fluffy sweet creatures. Holding rabbits is like holding handfulls of joy, laughter, and comfort.<br />
<br />
Meet Lucy. She is my rabbit. Yes, I bought her at the show. And yes, she is as sweet, floppy, soft, and cuddly as she looks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDAP-LG53OUq93YU76FYv7laD-ASVCKDiIxHtnH-NDHKzzf2bFo52mALZ7k7RAx6CU0TuAwPOP_2xxwM34dcw2tuinKhq8gYY8X_JpekYy9zw3HDZBb7CGuq2QhYQsEFOyDvJm_Zgpr1E-/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDAP-LG53OUq93YU76FYv7laD-ASVCKDiIxHtnH-NDHKzzf2bFo52mALZ7k7RAx6CU0TuAwPOP_2xxwM34dcw2tuinKhq8gYY8X_JpekYy9zw3HDZBb7CGuq2QhYQsEFOyDvJm_Zgpr1E-/s320/FullSizeRender+%25288%2529.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-58611693905702586362017-01-29T15:17:00.002-08:002017-01-29T15:17:52.731-08:00A Non-JanuaryThis January has been a non-January. A non-winter. The days have felt like a trick with almost spring-warm mornings and rain that should have been snow.<br />
<br />
Even minus the cold and the snow, I feel the need to hibernate during January. It is a planning month for me where I hunker down and try to write, catch up on organizing, and procrastinate taking down the Christmas decorations (one tree is down...two to go).<br />
<br />
My greatest source of joy in this troublesome month is snippets with my family. With teenagers and their schedules and O's night work schedule, time together is precious. We spent a couple hours in the National Botanical Garden a couple weekends ago. We were drawn to the tropical plants, the ones that reminded us of Indonesia and Bali. The blossoms were a reminder of warmth and fun and freedoms that we may never experience in the same way again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-K12Q7Rai29nZWmaf-pLxgl-UUiLMUF1pdcN6vktJYzHePwTSFvo_V8KKEJpYcX-ayyFHRmS8yqVhyphenhyphentPzbArAKMGZ5BzOMFsKZ2JQen91itQ5zwwzCThomoVoa-QIyYcnSM_sQkY_o0j/s1600/IMG_6779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-K12Q7Rai29nZWmaf-pLxgl-UUiLMUF1pdcN6vktJYzHePwTSFvo_V8KKEJpYcX-ayyFHRmS8yqVhyphenhyphentPzbArAKMGZ5BzOMFsKZ2JQen91itQ5zwwzCThomoVoa-QIyYcnSM_sQkY_o0j/s320/IMG_6779.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
I find joy in the snippets with Madi on long runs. My favorite request is, "Mom, will you run with me?" She tolerates my slower pace, my music choice, and usually even lets me pick the running route. It is there on the trail or on a gravel road, our shoes striking a familiar rhythm, that my self-doubt is quietest, and I feel like everything is going better than okay.<br />
<br />
I long for a hearty snow. A snow so deep we are stuck in the house together. A snow so deep that time stops, and all we have to do is enjoy each other.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it is difficult for me to feel like I'm making much progress on anything during January. I feel like I'm in a flight holding pattern, circling a destination without actually landing. Making plans without making progress. But maybe that's just my hibernating mind speaking.<br />
<br />
The joy is there...even if it comes in snippets. Even in this non-wintery month. I just have to look a little harder to see it.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-11493608572545058272017-01-14T15:35:00.000-08:002017-01-14T15:35:14.218-08:00The Twins Turn 13I supposed someday I will need to stop referring to Truman and Amelia as "the twins." But so far, they tolerate (and still celebrate) their constant "twin" status and the reminder that they come into the world together.<br />
<br />
Amelia (first by 15 minutes - she likes to gloat). Wow this girl. Beautiful strawberry blond hair (more strawberry than blond) and a personality to match. She bucked the Abbe children trend and chose Oboe as her school instrument instead of strings. Her tone and regular practicing earned her a spot as first chair in the woodwind section in her band class.<br />
<br />
Sewing is still a passion for her. She received a sewing table and chair for her room from Santa which allowed her to move her sewing machine out of Truman's room - they were both thrilled. It is not uncommon for Amelia to disappear during the weekend only to emerge from her bedroom a couple hours later with sewing project completed. She made everyone Christmas pillowcases as gifts this year.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlN32t7o2nQSOGz0ITokBhaBZr8CqWv9rZKujkX2tXnFgBhnBkeeVwyB94-f9pGy0FI8HKzf_ZFXr3YSA-MwhktLV3Z26nnuVvhR2ZG4MQwkCiTYZYGYcbOn_sFXwANuO1KMnwyIe43AW4/s1600/IMG_6773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlN32t7o2nQSOGz0ITokBhaBZr8CqWv9rZKujkX2tXnFgBhnBkeeVwyB94-f9pGy0FI8HKzf_ZFXr3YSA-MwhktLV3Z26nnuVvhR2ZG4MQwkCiTYZYGYcbOn_sFXwANuO1KMnwyIe43AW4/s320/IMG_6773.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
She serves as president in her Beehive class which has been a good learning experience for her. It has been fun to watch her develop skills and come into her own in Young Women's.<br />
<br />
We definitely recognized signs of the approaching teenage-hood. Amelia has some spunk to her. She is not a push-over and speaks her mind regularly. She is a second mother to Charlotte and Truman, taking any opportunity to keep them on task and on time. It is not rare to hear her remind Truman "Time to catch the bus...do you have your lunch?" in the mornings. She is fully aware of the pecking order in Middle School, and we've had some good conversations about friendships. Although sometimes there are tears, Amelia has a way of picking herself back up and pressing forward. I admire her for this.<br />
<br />
Amelia ran with NOVA Acers last spring and fall...joining the ranks of Abbe runners. She has a beautiful stride and a competitor's heart.<br />
<br />
Truman (who gloats about his "birthright" status - which drives his sisters crazy!). Wow this boy. We had a rough patch with some depression and anxiety at the end of 6th grade, but you would never know now. He is a happy boy who takes care of his chickens and does crazy things like make up a game of bamboo surfing using the tree-tall stalks down by the creek. <br />
<br />
Truman joined a travel soccer team this year. Soccer is his love - he'd play it everyday if he could. When the weather cooperates, he takes a soccer ball in the yard and practices.<br />
<br />
He discovered gel this year - and man is this kid cute. Amelia says he's gotten a bit wild at school and has lots of friends. For the first time in my parenting life, I had a call from a teacher at school about some behavior issues. We nipped that in the bud, FAST. At home, Truman is a HUGE helper. He still says "Yes Mom, I love you" when I ask him to do an extra chore around the house. He and Charlotte get along the best and they can play games for long stretches.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGU2z3Nenda6rj6X4MWSZ1T12Sm7GlMwbQuyEuqqPElYJ5DvxNORRojGES_m44ZXL3DHAsp9R4_yON58-gzq9xn1YCKHuTb_zX-DL4olu7es6-0hqQ2SJsJg8OVVJtmZkVQdw30AITh4c/s1600/IMG_2640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGU2z3Nenda6rj6X4MWSZ1T12Sm7GlMwbQuyEuqqPElYJ5DvxNORRojGES_m44ZXL3DHAsp9R4_yON58-gzq9xn1YCKHuTb_zX-DL4olu7es6-0hqQ2SJsJg8OVVJtmZkVQdw30AITh4c/s320/IMG_2640.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
This boy loves his chickens. He invested in a second flock after our tragic encounter with a fox last summer. He feeds them, cleans out the coop, and thoroughly enjoys carrying them around.<br />
<br />
Music, music, music. Truman learned the Maple Leaf Rag (original version) this year and keeps working hard with piano lessons. He played his viola in a trio with Madi and Elise during the Christmas season. That was a dream come true...for me.<br />
<br />
I love my twins. I love their energy and contribution. I love their optimism and hard work. I love watching them develop their uniqueness while still relishing their togetherness...their twin status.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-8141328703201483032017-01-05T09:59:00.002-08:002017-01-05T09:59:24.385-08:00Highlight #10It's taken me a week to catch up. But I've saved my favorite highlight for last.<br />
<br />
Highlight #10 - My family!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPnM_cTxZUZRuDrg_wRqejcJ0CYpcD6NSAwYUTxRhRHbNbYrEXnnOY6lGtl-qSjUbTTu334ZhMfgcLnI0CEop_Zh3O6VcGwhF_2rqjeIYOg1HND027cQsc-8FHiDBTJuVWRHrGskniLiW/s1600/chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPnM_cTxZUZRuDrg_wRqejcJ0CYpcD6NSAwYUTxRhRHbNbYrEXnnOY6lGtl-qSjUbTTu334ZhMfgcLnI0CEop_Zh3O6VcGwhF_2rqjeIYOg1HND027cQsc-8FHiDBTJuVWRHrGskniLiW/s320/chickens.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
This crazy, talented, sweet, chaotic, independent, amazing, chicken-loving group of people is my tribe. They keep me busy as I drive them to music lessons, make meals, attend races, and get them to church activities. But I love that kind of of busy!<br />
<br />
They also keep me busy with laundry (it is <u>never-ending</u>) which is NOT my favorite activity. Thankfully, they <i>are </i>dish-doers/kitchen-cleaners...even if they do have to be reminded. I also stay busy as I ride the emotional roller-coaster nearly everyday with these teenagers and an eight-going-on-sixteen child. But we're making progress. "I'm sorry" is a common phrase in our house...most often used by me.<br />
<br />
These people are my favorite travel companions. They cheer for spontaneous stops on road trips. They support adventurous treat finding. Our favorite treats (besides the Dream Cones) were Schmakary's cookies in NYC and the all-you-can-eat buffet in Dutch county Pennsylvania. Truman ate the equivalent of five meals in two hours, plus three whoopee pies to top it off. He said, "I stopped eating when I started sweating." :) Madi and Elise are my Shakespeare-partners, joining me anytime I have a craving for theatre.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, we've had our share of heartaches this year. The fox attack on the chickens was devastating: bloody, terrifying, and tearful. Keeping up with school work and a stressful xcountry schedule nearly did us all in. Dad's new work schedule in April meant that after 4pm (the busiest part of the day) I was a single parent everyday. The strain on the high schoolers (who didn't see their Dad on school days) had a bigger impact than we anticipated. But we've managed. Together.<br />
<br />
The biggest blessing of my life is spending time with these people. I feel joy in seeing their progression. They keep me from getting lonely.<br />
<br />
And we couldn't have managed half a well as we did this year, without the help from these people:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8Cort6TcoNaaATBjDA4RcitK3t1EMukBsjqk3r3kZAz5Zvi7t8EV7qaIEhuPdz1E7_TYxIWkevlCy2jthOh4JTLFrmrHBVij0kUVhX8KsAVei1qgyKw0mb5aKxyTgsRmXyTQgIl0GudT/s1600/IMG_3632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8Cort6TcoNaaATBjDA4RcitK3t1EMukBsjqk3r3kZAz5Zvi7t8EV7qaIEhuPdz1E7_TYxIWkevlCy2jthOh4JTLFrmrHBVij0kUVhX8KsAVei1qgyKw0mb5aKxyTgsRmXyTQgIl0GudT/s320/IMG_3632.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZ5wKrd04y5nV3035GsglQ2qoCqNEwcug-_3lOEmUa0fEzieMjw_2I7Dyp5lCTbqBMyK02YzH1_TT6atAtHFAhu4Y-UD2nDJhXvzZHgzLGtRMZcYupz4AUl5_ijpEzMrf9i6gxNO8BU1N/s1600/IMG_3628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZ5wKrd04y5nV3035GsglQ2qoCqNEwcug-_3lOEmUa0fEzieMjw_2I7Dyp5lCTbqBMyK02YzH1_TT6atAtHFAhu4Y-UD2nDJhXvzZHgzLGtRMZcYupz4AUl5_ijpEzMrf9i6gxNO8BU1N/s320/IMG_3628.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUEfQ8pky0JhH8mN_xWmPa9k1ekrnqFtkcGr0GXaqAl9RIRxYqaVtc54clZbNxs0g_oqIo6bzd0G8juGyOnXXVYld3ZJK4kZ4DAMG-GVSPH0BvAo_bchhXOYwG6LJEe_c9ULLE7KHG-vzU/s1600/bowling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUEfQ8pky0JhH8mN_xWmPa9k1ekrnqFtkcGr0GXaqAl9RIRxYqaVtc54clZbNxs0g_oqIo6bzd0G8juGyOnXXVYld3ZJK4kZ4DAMG-GVSPH0BvAo_bchhXOYwG6LJEe_c9ULLE7KHG-vzU/s320/bowling.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Grandparents are the best! Their love, support, and hardwork not only bless us, but inspire us to strive to do and be a little better.<br />
<br />
Someone said, "Family isn't an important things. It's everything." Yep. That's true.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-61358650101743353252017-01-03T10:00:00.000-08:002017-01-03T10:10:18.097-08:00Highlight #9 - LoveThis year I learned about love. It all started on a snowy day in February. I was participating in a training meeting for leadership in the stake, and part of my responsibility was to organize a musical number for the opening session. I asked Jess to play her violin...because well, it's Jess, only the most musically talented person I know.<br />
<br />
On the morning of the event, I arrived at 7:30 thinking I was very early and prepared. I was surprised to see people rushing around and seeming stressed when we still had an hour and a half before the event started. By 7:40, I casually asked, "Why are we all hurrying?" My friend Cheryl said, "Because we only have twenty minutes till start time." WHAT!? Yes, it started at 8. And yes, I had told my dear friend, Jess, to be at the chapel at 9AM. Not 8.<br />
<br />
My stomach dropped.<br />
<br />
I called Jess's cell, and it went right to voice mail. I called her husband's number. He answered. "Hi," I said with a a shaky voice. "Ummm, so I made a big mistake. So you know how Jess is playing for the stake training meeting today? Well...I told her the wrong time. I told her to be here at 9, but actually it starts at 8." Joseph said, "You mean in 15 minutes?" When I confirmed the time, he said something like, "Oh boy. I'll go tell her."<br />
<br />
Now it must be recorded that #1, Jess lives 20 minutes away from the building where she was supposed to play. #2 It had snowed that morning. #3 Jess loves her sleep, and I'm pretty sure she might not have even been awake when I called.<br />
<br />
I confessed my mistake to Robyn, the YW Stake President, and the Stake President. Then I sat on the stand while the people arrived for the meeting. Robyn used a little stalling tactic and postponed the beginning of the meeting five minutes due "to the weather." I sat there feeling so sick that I had put my friend in that horrible position. I sat there feeling sick that most likely she wouldn't make it in time...and it was all my fault.<br />
<br />
During the opening song, the chapel door opened and in walked Jess. She was wearing a long skirt...and snow boots. Her beautiful blond hair was pinned up in a messy bun. And she was wearing her glasses. She hadn't even taken the extra time to put in her contacts. Not a stitch of makeup on her face. All because of my mistake. When Jess walked up on the stand to do her musical number in front of all the stake leadership...in snow boots and her glasses...I whispered, "I love you." And she whispered back, "I love you more."<br />
<br />
In that moment I learned more about love and service than any church lesson ever taught.<br />
<br />
Love is selfless. Love is service. Love is without vanity or guile. Love is forgiving even when you have every right to hold a grudge. Love is friendship. Love is coming late to a stake meeting in snow boots and glasses and playing the violin even when your friend messed up.<br />
<br />
Love is road trip partners! Love is running 200 miles together over 36 hours. Laughter and sleep deprivation and lots of chocolate definitely strengthens a friendship. Love is coming to the Miami EANA conference with a 3AM pickup time and return flight on 9/11 - whoa! Love is when two friends accompanied me when I went to get a mammogram because my doctor had found a lump. And then love is when one of those friends stormed back into the office to demand better service for me when the radiologist was rude. Love is invitations to enjoy a backyard fire pit, company on the trail, and phone calls while I drive home from teaching. Love is inviting my girls and I to watch Poldark and Dr. Thorn on a big screen TV. Love is sharing Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas dinner.<br />
<br />
I'm so far from being a good friend or knowing how to show love in a perfect way. But for some reason I have been blessed with people in my life who are and who do. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0n28twPWnJKFiNERUW9gphPUjFQkT0AUJno_9_gVOA1vtg5OtY0qJtI8kzfTMZHlnQagq-cXwwdlgdkUAyZsIeaOEHjJ8uJ1pIDxAX382xyYoq8nBGdVmvDbXb3YvLHltvK3FDnYgSBm/s1600/IMG_4351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0n28twPWnJKFiNERUW9gphPUjFQkT0AUJno_9_gVOA1vtg5OtY0qJtI8kzfTMZHlnQagq-cXwwdlgdkUAyZsIeaOEHjJ8uJ1pIDxAX382xyYoq8nBGdVmvDbXb3YvLHltvK3FDnYgSBm/s320/IMG_4351.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3dct0fPwFDfi3OXeJf4_T8ME6A8L9YckL_Wc_TOH-BN9IxR1XsVcEd9nKSQzyhHGcEywdjt73dr6lEHWnE6_CL8k36_hrdgQKqn33a7lmqmL4vDVE5kLWEiPuVRNlccqxBYnTQIAPOwn/s1600/IMG_4396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3dct0fPwFDfi3OXeJf4_T8ME6A8L9YckL_Wc_TOH-BN9IxR1XsVcEd9nKSQzyhHGcEywdjt73dr6lEHWnE6_CL8k36_hrdgQKqn33a7lmqmL4vDVE5kLWEiPuVRNlccqxBYnTQIAPOwn/s320/IMG_4396.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIlf0eglA22RCXlMmLN_CupeYKNZWWI48UZsuajdeJggRB9lqQZy8klbSiOvyt28de2_w8bHbjUDvkE3dGLALKqPQS5r2ZTj-NSYgXNRuH64OoePUQkaMepaRQpsjTfFkOW10W-Y48d2I/s1600/IMG_4493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIlf0eglA22RCXlMmLN_CupeYKNZWWI48UZsuajdeJggRB9lqQZy8klbSiOvyt28de2_w8bHbjUDvkE3dGLALKqPQS5r2ZTj-NSYgXNRuH64OoePUQkaMepaRQpsjTfFkOW10W-Y48d2I/s320/IMG_4493.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;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImClSbOuotOO4GLmQ-qTcjAonHoV1nirjYa2cxhIKiJWEDbGqpgUNvm_Rqj0SNpQsbKMXyK7aTg5Pps8yBmsSyo5HzgTGlIEBD6NyoVEGyLKcQyYLyYkQYzfG5a7rcd5ZNRiOqIRZyhbC/s1600/ladies_Thanksgiving2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImClSbOuotOO4GLmQ-qTcjAonHoV1nirjYa2cxhIKiJWEDbGqpgUNvm_Rqj0SNpQsbKMXyK7aTg5Pps8yBmsSyo5HzgTGlIEBD6NyoVEGyLKcQyYLyYkQYzfG5a7rcd5ZNRiOqIRZyhbC/s320/ladies_Thanksgiving2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-84298047137001292342017-01-02T15:42:00.001-08:002017-01-02T15:42:31.406-08:002016 Highlights #6-8And the highlights continue...<br />
<br />
#6 - Loudoun County Fair. When the kids were in elementary school, the county fair was the highlight of our summer. With a four year break because of Indonesia, coming back to the fair grounds was nostalgic and exciting. It was definitely a family affair - a week of baking, competitions, rodeos, demolition derby, fried food, animal responsibilities, and interacting with the club members and the general public.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfam-x0gEqgzihCYiMZ5rM_sV0rDYW-hnEV8UwAFpB0wgomhDBok10-s7RORPUVwR8yZngXZ2ZOaL3YySrKgtHBMWdcusS9QYQ4bER92uDQtqP1BBNni4BTzzf4NlpLvM-ZI7GSFb_Q2u/s1600/IMG_5367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfam-x0gEqgzihCYiMZ5rM_sV0rDYW-hnEV8UwAFpB0wgomhDBok10-s7RORPUVwR8yZngXZ2ZOaL3YySrKgtHBMWdcusS9QYQ4bER92uDQtqP1BBNni4BTzzf4NlpLvM-ZI7GSFb_Q2u/s320/IMG_5367.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46UlaBl7-KPz9qaycqXlh5XyurdVuA5s9MpTVfuiLUrCSDsqbcmIFSpZfWY4SbKB82cYVKNpPXLpppekP771Ez62VjqYAzXx2alY-Ybr8I2s1o5A8pAwBWERieEsklvCLqWm84X51M6Vg/s1600/IMG_5368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46UlaBl7-KPz9qaycqXlh5XyurdVuA5s9MpTVfuiLUrCSDsqbcmIFSpZfWY4SbKB82cYVKNpPXLpppekP771Ez62VjqYAzXx2alY-Ybr8I2s1o5A8pAwBWERieEsklvCLqWm84X51M6Vg/s320/IMG_5368.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;">This year, the girls entered the Miss Loudoun County competition...and Madi won! She spent most of the week handing out ribbons at the various animal competitions. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfL8XwhOA90YQ18-3VDETfADru83LqimMwkDmbTRTACziYiZqGleXmmv8OoOz1GsvttJayhstK3iMnEVperXdV7-3bgE5uiUf-DXHVdNSMzZnDZRX_Ge6wgJKy57jJMDQS3_xLJdlOKun/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfL8XwhOA90YQ18-3VDETfADru83LqimMwkDmbTRTACziYiZqGleXmmv8OoOz1GsvttJayhstK3iMnEVperXdV7-3bgE5uiUf-DXHVdNSMzZnDZRX_Ge6wgJKy57jJMDQS3_xLJdlOKun/s320/FullSizeRender+%25286%2529.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
#7 - Trip to Cape Cod. I took my children back to the place I called home for five years. I moved to Sandwich, MA my sophomore year and graduated from high school there. Elise, Madi, and I ran my old route through the quaint Sandwich village, around the old grist mill, and past Heritage plantation. Memories surfaced with every corner and twist in the road.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
If I had to name a single favorite moment of 2016, it would be jumping off the Sandwich boardwalk with Madi after a morning run. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3JoeFCEoW2TQaLAAw-dsoWu6tC97QEmu-pjOZ5wchQhI-xFlwKW37Cv0RRWesiaivIqSw_XmfIEz0vHr4Fi1ASGySR9-dD5yFTgmyGxmq_Jx3Ce3dIHU_-IMwQKnP4FcA97AMbXo3Lia/s1600/IMG_5541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3JoeFCEoW2TQaLAAw-dsoWu6tC97QEmu-pjOZ5wchQhI-xFlwKW37Cv0RRWesiaivIqSw_XmfIEz0vHr4Fi1ASGySR9-dD5yFTgmyGxmq_Jx3Ce3dIHU_-IMwQKnP4FcA97AMbXo3Lia/s320/IMG_5541.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
If I had to name a single favorite food from 2016 it would be the "Dream Cones." Three scoops of homemade ice cream are the epitome of summer.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAoaLSlQ1nbQuEwozBfXEpnveDFoCG0eVnD6HbKJM7z1R6Us_V4KuCvZ3lzhyphenhyphen0Avq0zaHac8ogZD7fw6qiXqx-daesk3fq4NQgjn3mGkCJcYgV-OJRYlU2XItAkO4xIrly9P_at0y6ZEcW/s1600/IMG_5441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAoaLSlQ1nbQuEwozBfXEpnveDFoCG0eVnD6HbKJM7z1R6Us_V4KuCvZ3lzhyphenhyphen0Avq0zaHac8ogZD7fw6qiXqx-daesk3fq4NQgjn3mGkCJcYgV-OJRYlU2XItAkO4xIrly9P_at0y6ZEcW/s320/IMG_5441.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
And if I had to name a favorite day of the entire year, it would be the day Shelley and Nelson took us on their boat to a private beach for a BBQ with their family. Toes in the sand. Hamburgers grilled on the beach. A swim to cool off. Buying ice cream from the Ice Cream <strike>truck</strike> boat. Talking books and comparing teacher and mothering experiences with my dear friend. Best. Day. Ever.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-CnlIfklxGO8zYy37AzG-da331istCJKK4pocrXPiV4l5YlEQks8KtQuULc7LVNjBfB8ICkOtPvQmLBZBpex6rw0LXRHtaZ1pBDsGxr9qn5IQZW3thbGsG5VTxISM4xMcVbzo8jzaqAG/s1600/IMG_5512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-CnlIfklxGO8zYy37AzG-da331istCJKK4pocrXPiV4l5YlEQks8KtQuULc7LVNjBfB8ICkOtPvQmLBZBpex6rw0LXRHtaZ1pBDsGxr9qn5IQZW3thbGsG5VTxISM4xMcVbzo8jzaqAG/s320/IMG_5512.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
#8 Running! Besides running from activity to activity, we are definitely a family of <i>racing</i> runners. This fact became even more clear this year when Truman and Amelia joined the ranks of our runners. Truman won the middle school bulldog mile (pictured below with the fastest high schooler in the US Drew Hunter), and Amelia joined the NOVA Acer track and xcountry teams. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8B149CKTKsyxkQM3th1HGm826MHwh1ROffAnle5JldqvWllQFv-kEHGnToMivPdq87Q6hthb4oyqM3-KFIfajayN-91d3MTz0iBpyB2wSOuud0EEReV3Fw3H5o3tIM_a5MhJGlAn_UQEQ/s1600/IMG_4926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8B149CKTKsyxkQM3th1HGm826MHwh1ROffAnle5JldqvWllQFv-kEHGnToMivPdq87Q6hthb4oyqM3-KFIfajayN-91d3MTz0iBpyB2wSOuud0EEReV3Fw3H5o3tIM_a5MhJGlAn_UQEQ/s320/IMG_4926.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZ0aVqoNPy4cHcQtArxSis8ZMVrDxY4kdGVDXuHLuPtwUmoCux9k0_nMsAMgp1hCAWGy1nPweV4igTy9XdbvFz_96YldbCoOItLQmuE6YwW3NTPKiB71i05W0tcPfrXDyh_qm3-L0uIhC/s1600/IMG_6443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZ0aVqoNPy4cHcQtArxSis8ZMVrDxY4kdGVDXuHLuPtwUmoCux9k0_nMsAMgp1hCAWGy1nPweV4igTy9XdbvFz_96YldbCoOItLQmuE6YwW3NTPKiB71i05W0tcPfrXDyh_qm3-L0uIhC/s320/IMG_6443.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;">Elise and Madi became teammates as they ran on varsity together. I love to cheer them on. But mostly, I love to watch them cheer on each other. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsCz4moQnX4pY4o5_K2ZMmIixz2iwf8Hqa3phE3X1hyphenhyphengDBo_iDqNPZIeYiQRroXvFCbn8aUQ_tETdRXVC8VMVyXU8ov5XutjbNSUoz9cjZBi8MihEscS5OsFDDyc8JkQRPNRD9agjaHRj/s1600/IMG_5628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsCz4moQnX4pY4o5_K2ZMmIixz2iwf8Hqa3phE3X1hyphenhyphengDBo_iDqNPZIeYiQRroXvFCbn8aUQ_tETdRXVC8VMVyXU8ov5XutjbNSUoz9cjZBi8MihEscS5OsFDDyc8JkQRPNRD9agjaHRj/s320/IMG_5628.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1o8gU1FyT2mGBQLnJ7h9vrbizpQuM1yT9uqDGoVbPiPELd7uMvkK3PnhnrlQZXri5pMqDKP2UyUdFPYaW9Sy5SqDfDAa3MhhrDn8dVezLRV8Pkig9leIwy6ARITJ4Ihr-zpgWlNwYGtUC/s1600/IMG_5629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1o8gU1FyT2mGBQLnJ7h9vrbizpQuM1yT9uqDGoVbPiPELd7uMvkK3PnhnrlQZXri5pMqDKP2UyUdFPYaW9Sy5SqDfDAa3MhhrDn8dVezLRV8Pkig9leIwy6ARITJ4Ihr-zpgWlNwYGtUC/s320/IMG_5629.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;">
<br /></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-55170821305904351482017-01-01T18:39:00.001-08:002017-01-01T18:39:15.331-08:002016 Highlights #1-5With my poorest record of posts this year (a paltry 8 posts), I hardly know where to start. But Elise encouraged me to list the highlights and then press forward with renewed commitment for 2017. Our lives have been <i>full</i>. Full of events, activities, challenges, tears, laughter, homework, deadlines, meals, and celebrations. They've also been full of very mundane moments...moments hardly worth recording. A brief snuggle on the couch, Saturday morning chores, Redbox rentals, sick days, Sunday afternoon walks, daily dish jobs, runs on the trail, and instrument practicing before school. Yet, it seems strange to record the large, rare moments when really our lives are made up much more of the small and mundane.<br />
<br />
But pressing forward...our 2016 Highlights #1-5:<br />
<br />
1. Madi turned 16, and to celebrate, we went to NYC! From the two Broadway musicals (Lion King and Neverland) to the corner suite upgrade at the Marriott Marquis, the entire weekend was magical.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz63ENltFjwm_ZHz_u6HxiL5BpVTbfUTQQBHV0uu426An8zel3DxynTeqrKG_J_CnbgDPgrLHmFxmHkKqR4QPAOrsXl2IAPYbilugMIJRkSdjklN24UoYizxM7Tq63SNVzGx7tw7gdK2_/s1600/IMG_3966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz63ENltFjwm_ZHz_u6HxiL5BpVTbfUTQQBHV0uu426An8zel3DxynTeqrKG_J_CnbgDPgrLHmFxmHkKqR4QPAOrsXl2IAPYbilugMIJRkSdjklN24UoYizxM7Tq63SNVzGx7tw7gdK2_/s320/IMG_3966.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqr44PxcllSK2AxRPxaf4vd7LlB1aLueZ6oyJ-BTZdkKk4UE2TTpxeYb44cIjM7ycPYhrksM-Hgcm2msegnNuMZcGUrHS4HydTJSmXMNrvOabiTmsmYzdG2cM3Y4eB9WfbKLoT59bHnsIn/s1600/IMG_3959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqr44PxcllSK2AxRPxaf4vd7LlB1aLueZ6oyJ-BTZdkKk4UE2TTpxeYb44cIjM7ycPYhrksM-Hgcm2msegnNuMZcGUrHS4HydTJSmXMNrvOabiTmsmYzdG2cM3Y4eB9WfbKLoT59bHnsIn/s320/IMG_3959.JPG" width="274" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
2. St. Thomas vacation! We cashed in our miles and Marriott points and flew to St. Thomas for my husband's birthday. The snorkelling, kayaking, blue sky, and turquoise water was balm to our souls. My favorite memory is beach hopping from Magen's Bay to Coki beach where my husband snorkelled to his heart's content! Shortly after this trip, our lives changed significantly with my husband's night shift work. The memories of this trip seem very dreamlike...like a lifetime away.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_inJKwWhvSpcw7mrOxlm02tEEFF6KEwb0_VMEKYhzyXMGMj993XTUsqWv5lv14wVFfD5pOB9Z2zBNKvBwPGkKLBcRaWm7Hj_TYICgoDvSLkjbuKBTvyyrTIowJ2uQduv5yAe41uyQRJJ0/s1600/IMG_4045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_inJKwWhvSpcw7mrOxlm02tEEFF6KEwb0_VMEKYhzyXMGMj993XTUsqWv5lv14wVFfD5pOB9Z2zBNKvBwPGkKLBcRaWm7Hj_TYICgoDvSLkjbuKBTvyyrTIowJ2uQduv5yAe41uyQRJJ0/s320/IMG_4045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3. Bunnies and Chickens. After a year of no animals because of our move and house building, we finally got bunnies and chickens again. We went from zero pets to over 20! The rabbits took over the garage (a fact I'm not thrilled with but have resigned to). Truman helped his dad build a coop for the chickens. We experienced the full array of emotions with exciting baby bunny births and tragic fox attacks. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8IuxmHkkSnstkvnZSISgMnHPlm7CWdVArlAP4tIqizzcCeLtsWt__BevwVtyaq1SU_Vo-aCfKPgCtnZJ7c3vYiA1XRNvBM0GXF15dgCA4cLms6bhJGCOXag7IjOfQkvkeyVKDfuDtiCH/s1600/IMG_4276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8IuxmHkkSnstkvnZSISgMnHPlm7CWdVArlAP4tIqizzcCeLtsWt__BevwVtyaq1SU_Vo-aCfKPgCtnZJ7c3vYiA1XRNvBM0GXF15dgCA4cLms6bhJGCOXag7IjOfQkvkeyVKDfuDtiCH/s320/IMG_4276.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTgUGYeowXoH-G2Oi2nKofdoHpZ9tZu2IdXmjoZtGp9F0aKwWxh8eWYCo2YG21X-di5TXw1eir7nnXBsD0H5NwzkZXt-BNI6sZrUHPFX3CBkgi4whyphenhyphenoB30w3I1dR3WKgmIZpBnYAYCp9r/s1600/IMG_5087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTgUGYeowXoH-G2Oi2nKofdoHpZ9tZu2IdXmjoZtGp9F0aKwWxh8eWYCo2YG21X-di5TXw1eir7nnXBsD0H5NwzkZXt-BNI6sZrUHPFX3CBkgi4whyphenhyphenoB30w3I1dR3WKgmIZpBnYAYCp9r/s320/IMG_5087.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
4. A new driver, dating, and prom. With Madi's 16th birthday, all of our lives changed. The biggest change was adding a driver to our family. Madi drives to early morning seminary on some mornings and with some pretty amazing car drop-off-choreography, she often has a car to drive home after school. Oh the joy of having an extra driver! Also, Madi was asked to Mormon prom by Jared Schoeny...a landmark occasion for her as well as me. How can my first baby be old enough to go to prom?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPtLR7YtmODYT5ZOgnG1f7nYVNud4UpCd5hMv0qFSbemu5WKrcPCzpK-j22lSTll8KuR7fJmpyM86AHpvDENOuiESlxmiuQodLjSrCEIRH6MOOVdvLBtadNk6k6Ggw7f29I3Fj8DHRWC-/s1600/IMG_4911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPtLR7YtmODYT5ZOgnG1f7nYVNud4UpCd5hMv0qFSbemu5WKrcPCzpK-j22lSTll8KuR7fJmpyM86AHpvDENOuiESlxmiuQodLjSrCEIRH6MOOVdvLBtadNk6k6Ggw7f29I3Fj8DHRWC-/s320/IMG_4911.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
5. Youth Conference at Kirtland, OH. I was called to serve in the stake Young Women's earlier this year. And so far, the most thrilling part of this calling was getting to accompany the youth to Kirtland. It was a whirlwind weekend of spiritual experiences with friends and my girls. We were asked to participate in a reenactment, I taught one of the sessions at the Johnson farm, and Madi and Elise sang with the youth choir. The meeting in the Kirtland temple was what Madi called, "this year's highlight." </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OxXDT0nd4pbHr2z44T-dsfMzFndj1z9wkkd5TIqZoxZrGvm-kenUDoKhU24_S2ZQWboPScZDV2EAH_avwvfmloDhaK7mA8Yo3_J_qA565hkiSUr47QT-eQtYsNa9wqC67xWC17TJRenx/s1600/IMG_5076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OxXDT0nd4pbHr2z44T-dsfMzFndj1z9wkkd5TIqZoxZrGvm-kenUDoKhU24_S2ZQWboPScZDV2EAH_avwvfmloDhaK7mA8Yo3_J_qA565hkiSUr47QT-eQtYsNa9wqC67xWC17TJRenx/s320/IMG_5076.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-16648772020100798512016-12-31T15:29:00.001-08:002016-12-31T15:41:36.789-08:00That Little Candle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JQsj3c5qzkQi-2bNS-HxEa4dEn_uUGzgA-Qvudn-BwO4QwfnKFzCacie4uVrpRfaWEVmnpdxQBGHI3qa8i8JU8POmjWNZ2z64-YwPuicwVluytvlqCkIV-9_CN_npcYD5GZpoqxs8vPB/s1600/IMG_6544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JQsj3c5qzkQi-2bNS-HxEa4dEn_uUGzgA-Qvudn-BwO4QwfnKFzCacie4uVrpRfaWEVmnpdxQBGHI3qa8i8JU8POmjWNZ2z64-YwPuicwVluytvlqCkIV-9_CN_npcYD5GZpoqxs8vPB/s320/IMG_6544.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The highlight of our holiday season was "lights." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The first set of lights came when we toured the luminary-filled fields of Antietam. When we entered the park, four rows of luminaries flanked the road. One light for every fallen and wounded soldier at the battle of Antietam. Twenty thousand lights total. But it wasn't until we came up over the first ridge and saw an entire field alight that we began to grasp the sobering reality of the battle. Then came the next field, and the next, and the next. Field after field. Hill after hill covered in lights. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When we were about half way through the park Charlotte said quietly, "I wish the drive was shorter." At first, we thought maybe she was bored. But then she started to cry, and we realized she understood exactly what she was seeing and the magnitude of loss was overwhelming.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I have never seen anything more beautiful and haunting. It stirred my soul. The experience led to a spontaneous discussion of the plan of salvation and questions of how so many people can call on the same God and be heard. When I think back over our holiday experiences, this one stands out most clearly. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The second moment of "lights" was at the National Cathedral Lessons and Carols by Candlelight on December 23rd. This was our second year to attend the program, so I anticipated the symbolic lighting of the candles with excitement. The light spread through the cathedral as each person lit their neighbor's candle. Candles were lit by a family member, a friend, or stranger. And as the music and light filled the the cavernous room, I felt joy and light and peace. </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/AVvXsEhM6P3QoX3AkDctBDSuVO2HPu_8WgO5r4Wv2_GcFl29CNFfa5nYWJFrHEBY2nxHPbaC6urw2ZIi_eHst2gEAwdRvUG70JLAyRukvFmnwRmi1DdbjEis9eXE-CuFqPj5FHCULsKm4i6MivkT/s1600/IMG_6640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6P3QoX3AkDctBDSuVO2HPu_8WgO5r4Wv2_GcFl29CNFfa5nYWJFrHEBY2nxHPbaC6urw2ZIi_eHst2gEAwdRvUG70JLAyRukvFmnwRmi1DdbjEis9eXE-CuFqPj5FHCULsKm4i6MivkT/s320/IMG_6640.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvvq0aXP8QOv4ALMOka8Tln-EEUtKdLVE3WtYDiKdYQB50EtUdiDjdaOzQBF682paoAdu5jLCU857KKBd3gYX0-2-atEMnbUloWUVicjWk-WBsSdoJi4iRlsILu1SJMUU2HX_eswfCo20/s1600/IMG_6639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvvq0aXP8QOv4ALMOka8Tln-EEUtKdLVE3WtYDiKdYQB50EtUdiDjdaOzQBF682paoAdu5jLCU857KKBd3gYX0-2-atEMnbUloWUVicjWk-WBsSdoJi4iRlsILu1SJMUU2HX_eswfCo20/s320/IMG_6639.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
William Shakespeare wrote (in Merchant of Venice), "How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world."<br />
<br />
When I look back over the 2016, I can't pinpoint any huge accomplishment. My personal journey was a series of small steps. Mostly supportive steps. In order to support Dad's job change, I side-stepped, and gave up some things I usually enjoy. My life was a cumulation of making hot breakfasts, going on runs, squeezing in work, driving kids to activities, and cheering other people on. But there were definitely moments of light. Small "little candle" moments. Seeing my children overcome obstacles, serving in the church, watching a friend enter a chapel to play her violin, running errands with my kids and just talking with them, asking for forgiveness, presenting a rare good lecture where I taught Truth (with a capital "T"), having friends accompany me to my scary doctor appointment, seeing a student learn, feeling humbled by the cancer work I do, and actually finishing reading a chapter book to my children...these were the little lights. <br />
<br />
My hope for 2017 is to keep looking for the light and in whatever small way possible, keep lighting my little candle.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year!<br />
<span id="quote_book_link_24128" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-85794018427813829882016-11-03T16:46:00.001-07:002016-11-03T17:13:09.474-07:00Charlotte Turns EightOh Charlotte, how can you be eight years old already? You are still the sunshine in our family. You sing in your room, at the dinner table, and in the car. You play best with Truman. I've looked in Truman's room to see his floor covered with legos and the two of you busy building. On special occasions, Elise gets out her American Girl doll and you play tea party or birthday party together. Recently, Amelia helped you sew your own dresses for Mary Ellen.<br />
<br />
You also like your own imaginary play. There have been afternoons or Sunday mornings when I realize I haven't seen you in an hour, and then I find you deep in imaginary play--usually with shopkins or petshops, a miniature town built with carpet squares and calico critter furniture.<br />
<br />
I have to add that you can delve out a powerful thunderstorm too! You've got your own trademark sass. That's the firecracker personality you've had even as a toddler.<br />
<br />
This year was a family birthday party. You asked for lemon cake with lemon frosting. When we sang the birthday song, you waved your arms conducting the song. As the youngest, the one who gets dragged to soccer games, school concerts, and xcountry meets, you relished the attention as we celebrated you!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0F5tkFzjYTtfzoyGroyaJEAP6lFIFeio6ZqUp0HyWvNj2ReSMr-7uHt3hWJxAZzYnTfzUaQ1SdV_e_9Tmz4UU3lfRQDgJ8mqCaSzOSdJjLNdjYIivlMle81uvK9TtToV_SWjIdfkhhJM/s1600/IMG_5695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0F5tkFzjYTtfzoyGroyaJEAP6lFIFeio6ZqUp0HyWvNj2ReSMr-7uHt3hWJxAZzYnTfzUaQ1SdV_e_9Tmz4UU3lfRQDgJ8mqCaSzOSdJjLNdjYIivlMle81uvK9TtToV_SWjIdfkhhJM/s320/IMG_5695.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Both sets of grandparents attended your baptism. Grandma and Poppy traveled all the way from Washington state, and Grandad and Nana drove 16 hours one-way from Mississippi. They love you very much. Aunt Allison and Gage also came--so you were surrounded with family! Even though there was a BYU football game in Washington DC, we were surprised how many of our ward friends made it to the event. The primary room was full.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToKhHA2ozpo-GW6KVULNj9iML3_HPudypQXAliVFkqnEK2C0oLSGp4kjtn4OuSGAfJ7eb1d6lW5gBorwfD5oY2tBU_PzIkaE3WIuoV5g_7bUPpk5ZGcK27Xd8a_B0fxIR988qalXHxowW/s1600/IMG_5841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToKhHA2ozpo-GW6KVULNj9iML3_HPudypQXAliVFkqnEK2C0oLSGp4kjtn4OuSGAfJ7eb1d6lW5gBorwfD5oY2tBU_PzIkaE3WIuoV5g_7bUPpk5ZGcK27Xd8a_B0fxIR988qalXHxowW/s1600/IMG_5841.JPG" /></a></div>
Madi and Truman played the piano and Grandma led the music. Sister Davis gave a talk about one of your favorite princesses: Rupunzel from Tangled. She talked about Rupunzel wanting to see the "lights" and going through challenges to reach goals. Elise, Madi, and Truman performed a musical number. You requested "For the Beauty of the Earth" for the opening song and "How Great Thou Art" for the closing song. I was a mess during the closing song - I gave up trying to sing and just cried.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTyHPJgwsi1dT5_Kv6nQuTytDvtUjo2De3fXdrFjRAHJO3WPPREWum1Ld3fXmWL9Mpl5aoIbmChf4aG-0UmGi61Iiqv8xBbVXpFhnUz_axfDcJkBX3hrxay_f3Dim5ur4CrSMLrj_E0oT/s1600/IMG_5843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTyHPJgwsi1dT5_Kv6nQuTytDvtUjo2De3fXdrFjRAHJO3WPPREWum1Ld3fXmWL9Mpl5aoIbmChf4aG-0UmGi61Iiqv8xBbVXpFhnUz_axfDcJkBX3hrxay_f3Dim5ur4CrSMLrj_E0oT/s1600/IMG_5843.JPG" /></a></div>
Dad baptized you and Grandad and Grandpa were the witnesses. When you came into the changing room afterward you kept saying, "I feel so happy! I feel so happy!" You looked beautiful. We hugged and hugged!<br />
<br />
I gave a talk about the Holy Ghost. I showed the picture of you and Yuli and talked about how she helped keep us safe, made us feel happy, and took care of our family. Then I compared that to the Holy Ghost. Every member of our family cried because we miss Yuli, but also because we could feel the spirit.<br />
<br />
It is a strange experience as a mom to watch my last child be baptized. It is a celebration, certainly. A bit of a relief too. But there is also a sadness...not in the event, but in the passing of time and the end of an era. I don't have small children in the house anymore. Everyone is accountable. The next big celebration in our family will the transition from home phase to college phase with Madi's graduation. I'm definitely not ready for that phase!<br />
<br />
Thank goodness you came to our family, dear Charlotte! You've extended my "mothering" years and increased my mothering joy. You are loved!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXdWbxIDm7Q-HRHFu5906DsXJR2YbA-9ocW9fdjCfeADyJXq79LAKxMFT3XXvN4kBdJFEqOeFxZqAZFEpjQ1qE6E4fV14_UDDFkL3CiVJMsmazfxtcizilXOIjl3arcaLN0TciaL99-Ks/s1600/IMG_5837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXdWbxIDm7Q-HRHFu5906DsXJR2YbA-9ocW9fdjCfeADyJXq79LAKxMFT3XXvN4kBdJFEqOeFxZqAZFEpjQ1qE6E4fV14_UDDFkL3CiVJMsmazfxtcizilXOIjl3arcaLN0TciaL99-Ks/s1600/IMG_5837.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-2007346306411719382016-08-27T15:16:00.000-07:002016-08-27T15:16:10.117-07:00When the Past and Present Meet<div class="MsoNormal">
It is strangely wonderful to return to a place from my youth…twenty years later. With five of my own children; two the ages I was when I lived there. To see the same familiar sights with adult eyes but remember the feelings and impressions I had as a teenager.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To drive through Sandwich, past the Grist Mill, turning
slowly. A steady churn. The white steepled church gleams in the late afternoon
light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stop across the street from
the black antique carriage forever parked in front of the Daniel Webster Inn.
The weathered gray-shingled houses nestle cozily in their yards. Deep purple
hydrangeas drip from window boxes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We drive to my old house and park the car along Shaker House Rd. It is evening, and
the neighborhood windows glow from inside lights. Some windows hold
twinkling candles. Ah the charm of the Cape! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We pick our way across the grass
to the narrow pathway onto the creaky dock. My children sit at the end of the
dock…the very dock I visited regularly, during Sunday afternoon family walks or
solo evening escapes. Shawme pond is still calm. The same calm I remember from my youth. The trees still hide any sign
of residence. A place to reflect. A thinking place. Tiny fish – the size of my
finger – jump, sending ripples across the grey surface. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgln15lTPD0XDtx9c-quC0-yOH1MWCV3htU_C715ZUuBlEnK8vgx-RbpgWGXYtNg7mAxTMgTru8SkDO3cABQJm7rFMWfiYLMQYXo0BAIDhpRkWhpKxyCn6RvhwJ699-xFBhV2i_aMU3rnGf/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgln15lTPD0XDtx9c-quC0-yOH1MWCV3htU_C715ZUuBlEnK8vgx-RbpgWGXYtNg7mAxTMgTru8SkDO3cABQJm7rFMWfiYLMQYXo0BAIDhpRkWhpKxyCn6RvhwJ699-xFBhV2i_aMU3rnGf/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I would have known as a teenager what life had in store for me, I would
have worried less. I would have cried less. The loneliness of teenagerhood
would have been bearable. The pond that provided solace still speaks to me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a single moment of stillness. My children look at the same view I had looked at countless times. And time stops. Or overlaps. Or stutters somehow. My two selves meet--the worried teenager with dreams and the adult who now sees her five children sitting there. This is joy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then my son pulls out his giant squirt gun. <i>How did he
slip that past me when we were getting out of the car?</i> The quiet erupts with
squeals as he shoots a stream of pond water and threatens his sisters. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This too, is joy. </div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-39040886264887338442016-07-18T17:58:00.002-07:002016-07-18T17:58:54.601-07:00My boy and his chickensOn Easter Sunday, my husband surprised the kids with ten baby chicks. They were so young their feathers looked like fur. They were chirping, hopping balls of fluff. Although all the kids enjoyed them, we knew the chicks were really for Truman. He'd raised chickens before we lived overseas, and he was ready to raise them again.<br />
<br />
Fast forward four months. The chicks are now full grown with beautiful glossy black feathers and rust accents. Truman loves his chickens. And it seems, they've imprinted on him. They follow Truman around when he's outside, bobbing their heads and making their cheerful clucking noises. Truman takes time to find worms, kneels down, and hand feeds his chickens. He puts them away to roost each night, and gets them up each morning.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_VZria89TLPqrrx3hIHq70WnUZqj2TFK_dJdM6D6NIHIe2N4WK6vX_zjRJq-2Ucv6-J74RqjpTPmiYgCoU7cKY9avUQ-vECh_dwzc8OSEO6D-bFtPJrmjmidBBbUtPCD3P3yCrNXxphU/s1600/IMG_5085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_VZria89TLPqrrx3hIHq70WnUZqj2TFK_dJdM6D6NIHIe2N4WK6vX_zjRJq-2Ucv6-J74RqjpTPmiYgCoU7cKY9avUQ-vECh_dwzc8OSEO6D-bFtPJrmjmidBBbUtPCD3P3yCrNXxphU/s320/IMG_5085.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
So when it was time for Truman to leave for a week at scout camp, his only request was that we take extra good care of his chickens.<br />
<br />
The first Monday night he was gone, we decided to go to the drive-in theater in Stephen's City. Just as we were ready to go, sitting in the car, with the engine rumbling, we realized we should probably put the chickens away to roost for the night. Unfortunately, it was only 5pm...three hours earlier than their normal "bedtime." After some furtive attempts of chasing the chickens around the shed, and out from under the cars, we decided to go ahead and go...postponing the chicken catching until we got home.<br />
<br />
We returned at 2:30AM.<br />
<br />
Three of the chickens were missing. A few scattered piles of feathers dotted the yard, the only clues to their demise.<br />
<br />
We felt horrible. Charlotte cried.<br />
<br />
When Truman returned home a few days later, I was the one who told him what had happened. I confessed my lapse in judgement and apologized. I feared he would be either devastated or furious. But he surprised me by being neither. Yes, he was sad. And although my son had every right to be angry with me, he chose to forgive, love, and look on the bright side. "I still have seven, Mom," he said. And then he hugged me.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-21437295847023136002016-07-10T12:06:00.003-07:002016-07-10T12:06:46.111-07:00From the PorchI went back and forth about whether or not I'd like having a teenage driver. Of course, it's not like I was really going to have a choice about having one. But would <i>I</i> like it? There was the whole "milestone" and end of childhood issue. Then there was the logistical bonus of having an extra driver to help with all the comings and goings at our house.<br />
<br />
Madi is a good driver. A conscientious, responsible driver. But there was also the fear of putting her at greater risk behind the wheel...facing other drivers, who maybe aren't as careful or responsible.<br />
<br />
In my mind's eye, I imagined the moment of her first solo drive. I pictured us having a serious heart to heart about all these swirling emotions: how happy I am for her independence, how I'm counting on her to make good decisions behind the wheel, and how proud I am of her accomplishment. I wanted to tell her the story of my Dad making me promise to never, never, NEVER drive without a seatbelt and have her make the same promise I did 25 years ago.<br />
<br />
As it turned out, the day she was officially licensed was packed full of end of school year activities. I stood in the kitchen preparing dinner while simultaneously helping another child with a final school project. Madi remembered a meeting she needed to attend...and we both realized she could drive there herself.<br />
<br />
I walk-jogged with her to the car. And without ceremony or more than a brief "here it is" pause, Madi got in the car. She quickly promised to always wear her seatbelt (without the story about my Dad) and to not listen to music for the first month of solo driving.<br />
<br />
And then she was off. The gravel crunched under the wheels as she drove down our driveway. I watched her look left and right and then pull onto Sands Rd.<br />
<br />
I watched her from our little side porch.<br />
<br />
How many times have I cried on a porch as I've watched my children take big steps? The kindergarten bus. The middle school bus. The high school bus. A first date. And now a first solo drive.<br />
<br />
My mom heart is happy for each milestone. But there is sadness too. I am happy for the accomplishments and growth. I'm super happy for the help! But I am sad for endings. My daughter will never need to ask me for a ride again. She will just ask me for the keys.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-36535876312585681922016-05-09T10:26:00.000-07:002016-05-09T10:26:01.990-07:00Pink Tutus and a Mom Failure MomentEvery Monday, for the past eight months, when Charlotte walked through the door it was a sprint to eat a snack, change into her pink tights and leotard, grab the dance bag with the tap/ballet shoes, and fly out the door to attend her dance class.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wVDFSC3dY9ZrN1oKeVwtjTWjjDeGYx8uCcBFGk8BDZmErRqRDgOjUEcYVZWOuLZaFeSndONwalN7QH6M6L1U62SDyfd6lMtLg5EOW-A8FGSsshyphenhyphenzm0sQH-wiGG7eG-fG-bDMJGA5Surr/s1600/IMG_4625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wVDFSC3dY9ZrN1oKeVwtjTWjjDeGYx8uCcBFGk8BDZmErRqRDgOjUEcYVZWOuLZaFeSndONwalN7QH6M6L1U62SDyfd6lMtLg5EOW-A8FGSsshyphenhyphenzm0sQH-wiGG7eG-fG-bDMJGA5Surr/s320/IMG_4625.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
The original idea was brilliant (it always is, isn't it?) As the youngest child, Charlotte has spent most of her life attending her siblings' extra curricular events. Soccer games. Basketball games. Plays. Concerts. So as a second grader, it was finally her turn. She chose dance. Most Mondays it went well. There were the occasional forgotten shoes, and the more occasional tights with a mysterious new hole. But all in all, Charlotte liked the chance to socialize with her dance friends and spend time with the her dance teacher (sweetest woman on the planet: Miss Amanda).<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWHl6aFtUOSCuazXOi4D5UEdnXxXWYItvTI0A-VuxPXHS1T9zBNc1rQs15FMv6qHL19oruPU23ETOOi_85B1Xr_mwnB1gYyIuIVBC_bvPC81I47xTsm_dv6iz3d0bk3Ku0bP5_V4c67B-/s1600/IMG_4623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWHl6aFtUOSCuazXOi4D5UEdnXxXWYItvTI0A-VuxPXHS1T9zBNc1rQs15FMv6qHL19oruPU23ETOOi_85B1Xr_mwnB1gYyIuIVBC_bvPC81I47xTsm_dv6iz3d0bk3Ku0bP5_V4c67B-/s320/IMG_4623.JPG" width="240" /></a>To this point, however, Charlotte hasn't caught the "fire" of actual dancing. She can feel the beat and loves music. But it was frustrating for her when her feet didn't work like she wanted them too. We practiced shuffle-ball-change on the asphalt while waiting for the school bus many mornings.<br />
<br />
All frustrations seemed to disappear as the dance recital approached. The lure of a real stage, makeup, and a gorgeous pink tutu costume overshadowed all previous complaints.<br />
<br />
The day of the dress rehearsal arrived, and I did my best to have everything ready so we would arrive on time - 6PM. With lots of help from my older girls (Elise put Charlotte's fine hair in a bun and Madilyn applied her makeup), we got in the car.<br />
<br />
I parked and rushed into the high school auditorium...relieved to know we were even a couple minutes early. You can imagine my surprise when I found the auditorium dark and full of spectators, the stage lights on, and a dance already in progress. And you can imagine my horror when I found out the rehearsal had started an hour ago...at 5PM.<br />
<br />
We were 58 minutes late.<br />
<br />
Ugh. Major mother failure.<br />
<br />
The good news is that the sweet Miss Amanda let Charlotte's group dance on stage again.<br />
<br />
The day of the recital was much less dramatic - thank goodness. Charlotte performed with her quintessential facial expressions raging from concentration to scowling at the bright light to a fleeting-remembered-smile. It was all very entertaining. She looked beautiful in her pink outfit, and she clearly had progressed in her dancing skills this year. Our favorite dance was the duck waddle tap number. Darling.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5E1fAWb6LpxC0cND0v2BQX7mFU6LpUPArgqQm2Pe_Ks4NMQhiuduWieLpzwN_oG2Bzlsqu0iPSxG46IcBpNzPSIWl5qIpW_fEtS6ems53F3mDmShD22_0BK68QYjyUJFuL6VWoPCbBNsK/s1600/IMG_4630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5E1fAWb6LpxC0cND0v2BQX7mFU6LpUPArgqQm2Pe_Ks4NMQhiuduWieLpzwN_oG2Bzlsqu0iPSxG46IcBpNzPSIWl5qIpW_fEtS6ems53F3mDmShD22_0BK68QYjyUJFuL6VWoPCbBNsK/s320/IMG_4630.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDQGdolqQIPZtuqq4KJ2G0yJuFxxbS3dpPr8K_kzTe5fE3g7pV4_NLJVWETZLWmPMtFk_vof9g2tZkL86xgTQun2UWleZkG3jDvE0u816WLtaG9YVeFtnEZIj38Q2mmPRcwuOdDrv5skm/s1600/IMG_4633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDQGdolqQIPZtuqq4KJ2G0yJuFxxbS3dpPr8K_kzTe5fE3g7pV4_NLJVWETZLWmPMtFk_vof9g2tZkL86xgTQun2UWleZkG3jDvE0u816WLtaG9YVeFtnEZIj38Q2mmPRcwuOdDrv5skm/s320/IMG_4633.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
When we asked her if she wanted to do dance again next year, she thought for a minute. It was as though I could see her contemplating the rushed, after-school routine, the challenge of learning the steps, and the glory of the applause and flowers. She answered honestly, "Maybe. I'll think about it." Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-69234324342875981972016-04-29T09:38:00.000-07:002016-04-29T09:38:53.130-07:00Notes to Self...Notes to Self:<br />
<br />
1. Do not sign up to teach four classes at NOVA, plus work part time for non-profit organization, plus be the mother of five children. If you do, the following will occur:<br />
<br />
A) You will go crazy.<br />
B) Your house will look like a crime scene. Every. Single. Day.<br />
C) You will be behind in all aspects of your life.<br />
D) You will not write another blog post until the semester is over. (I taught my last class today, can you tell?!)<br />
<br />
2. Remember that teaching brings joy - this is important to remember<i> especially</i> when you are in the middle of grading 120 essays. A couple more hints:<br />
<br />
A) Do non rewrite your syllabus because you are getting bored with the old syllabus.<br />
B) If you are asked to teach an ENG 111/ENF class...say yes (unless it is the 4th class of a semester - see #1). The second language students work hard, struggle, and inspire. Your ENG 111/ENF class made you a better person.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjZ549Aw1RRXva4FTbNr0p4UZEBct-o22LNnZ1rcT1m0c7PfFI7miQ0dKNMDJ0Qos16GYKHm9FYb6JVtXbxuz2lO4uXZ0qn5w8R8SrhRvrkqSILT39jIvEhwqmckPKWTob5WNJ3xPxWgz/s1600/IMG_4338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjZ549Aw1RRXva4FTbNr0p4UZEBct-o22LNnZ1rcT1m0c7PfFI7miQ0dKNMDJ0Qos16GYKHm9FYb6JVtXbxuz2lO4uXZ0qn5w8R8SrhRvrkqSILT39jIvEhwqmckPKWTob5WNJ3xPxWgz/s1600/IMG_4338.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwL3VPErLWlzD_TGncWovUb_jpiPXenEag_f_4ho8K4tL9IfiOcmP_wLCcW1aHQSkGWyUk4gVqEM5SGflngi0mBpgzS3_fmnwO6uQ3duAxefmze1ZN84LqzjaOFaxwtveMSOIpeCv_fbd/s1600/IMG_4339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwL3VPErLWlzD_TGncWovUb_jpiPXenEag_f_4ho8K4tL9IfiOcmP_wLCcW1aHQSkGWyUk4gVqEM5SGflngi0mBpgzS3_fmnwO6uQ3duAxefmze1ZN84LqzjaOFaxwtveMSOIpeCv_fbd/s1600/IMG_4339.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3. If anyone ever asks you to participate in a 200 mile relay race, say...YES!!! This was hands-down the best thing you did this spring. The laughter, the middle-of-the-night legs, the bonding with your girls and friends, the handoffs, and the joy. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInpAbhwoPKk3ElrvHfHf6ux2KGjVP5MseFzyx-Mjt3GOH1XYnShhDcvXugyRGbNnLnCWCP5uLtRWp2iLK_HhzI8Dxa3qKhay7QvSUQaHaOYMn50Qx5OkjefC4fQqUSVYGzbJzbCG1ZMij/s1600/IMG_4487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInpAbhwoPKk3ElrvHfHf6ux2KGjVP5MseFzyx-Mjt3GOH1XYnShhDcvXugyRGbNnLnCWCP5uLtRWp2iLK_HhzI8Dxa3qKhay7QvSUQaHaOYMn50Qx5OkjefC4fQqUSVYGzbJzbCG1ZMij/s1600/IMG_4487.JPG" /></a></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/AVvXsEh1ZlWdwQVytvoBKZBDbS3mRMXB45oRPlosFgzjILL7eMfZB_puVglgj0OFECYTZJDPKdtirzhJXlTv4691CWVph0umAlZociHPpoBKQP9yNOG3e8lIlZC133qhwIj_ASZ5mQRd_2wI9ITu/s1600/IMG_4531edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZlWdwQVytvoBKZBDbS3mRMXB45oRPlosFgzjILL7eMfZB_puVglgj0OFECYTZJDPKdtirzhJXlTv4691CWVph0umAlZociHPpoBKQP9yNOG3e8lIlZC133qhwIj_ASZ5mQRd_2wI9ITu/s1600/IMG_4531edit.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
4. Start blogging again. Stick with short blogs. One paragraph tops. Chances are, you'll actually blog more regularly that way. </div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-65725679659833455892016-01-23T10:47:00.002-08:002016-01-24T09:58:34.723-08:00Three Generation RaceMaking a correlation between road races and life's journey is nothing new. However, on January 1st, the symbolism of the race tugged at my heart, making this year's Resolution Race all the more poignant and memorable.<br />
<br />
For the first time, I ran a race with my parents and <i>every</i> member of my family (Charlotte and Owen did the 4K, but I'm counting it!).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEjbTBxELdH4bTUy8wwXQgp7RPh8o5c0TGzOZAvvBu6BbsiYCqw3FxWZxYs7XyZZZMZdqvvGaWGO9pBE0oOcbldloHmegSp5gsocY1frRSKdJBJ4rj5mIrmSbM_WHP6g3DKOy7rwwFmOa/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEjbTBxELdH4bTUy8wwXQgp7RPh8o5c0TGzOZAvvBu6BbsiYCqw3FxWZxYs7XyZZZMZdqvvGaWGO9pBE0oOcbldloHmegSp5gsocY1frRSKdJBJ4rj5mIrmSbM_WHP6g3DKOy7rwwFmOa/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25285%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
In addition, we were joined this year by the Lush family--including Maria, my awesome running partner--and the Schoeny family.<br />
<br />
Charlotte was the first to take off. She sprinted down the grass hill, her blond hair flying behind her. We cheered from the top of the hill. Oh the bitter cold! We hopped, skipped, and bounced to stay warm before our starting time. We followed the fitness trainer's instructions to dance to the music (some more enthusiastically than others) as we waited. Grandma was a dancing genius! She and Poppy were darling as they partnered up, danced toward each other, and do-si-doed arm in arm.<br />
<br />
Right before our start, I frantically looked for Maria and was thrilled when she and her boys ran up to join us at the starting line. Madi and Elise started the race at the front of the line, pumped and ready to win. Gift certificates are powerful motivators.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpKaQdpDlWdVc2e1SfE3N8bfHbkmjG7DUhw5qn6Sy9pqgAddLlfZCuFi0ydIxlvJjf67vPk2qsYL0pQH-QG7ooCXbcJngMhg81sEfM1D2-e35DBxu2vAJSjmf9XjfoxyDWskCLhYkKu_Ee/s1600/IMG_3598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpKaQdpDlWdVc2e1SfE3N8bfHbkmjG7DUhw5qn6Sy9pqgAddLlfZCuFi0ydIxlvJjf67vPk2qsYL0pQH-QG7ooCXbcJngMhg81sEfM1D2-e35DBxu2vAJSjmf9XjfoxyDWskCLhYkKu_Ee/s1600/IMG_3598.JPG" /></a></div>
The race wound its way on gravel roads up through Morvan Park to the beautiful mansion. For the 5K, it's a down and back which meant I was able to see Madi and Elise, give them a high-five, and confirm that they indeed were in 1st and 2nd place for the girls.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpIjSw8kB2lXy0B5RAcaDsCv4SQ8LXghr8tzVg9KMyjYSAN_wluwqo5w6a3rPgz9TYlWmocLoL6MDEgWR7oZjYOFqSS-hUcRvMvK7ffVzK1ofVRBDkIn40ZiS9XgSONGOSu1iJBSLXfrM/s1600/historic-morven-park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpIjSw8kB2lXy0B5RAcaDsCv4SQ8LXghr8tzVg9KMyjYSAN_wluwqo5w6a3rPgz9TYlWmocLoL6MDEgWR7oZjYOFqSS-hUcRvMvK7ffVzK1ofVRBDkIn40ZiS9XgSONGOSu1iJBSLXfrM/s320/historic-morven-park.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
During, the final stretch back up the hill, Madi and Elise (who had already finished) ran back down to join me. Madi encouraged, "You can do it Mom! Start your sprint!" With their cheers in my ears, their shoes in cadence with mine, my breathing loud, and my heart pounding, I charged up that darn grassy hill. As soon as I took a minute to catch my breath, we all ran back to join Grandma and Poppy for their finish.<br />
<br />
On to the awards ceremony! We cheered as each person claimed their prize. Madi 1st overall girl, Elise 2nd overall girl, me (yes, slow me!) 3rd overall girl. Grandma 1st in her age category. Poppy 1st in his age category. Paul 3rd overall for the 10K--he's the true athlete amongst us! My favorite moment was when Paul told the announcer, "I'm a friend of the Abbes" to round out the ongoing joke of the Abbes sweeping the awards.<br />
<br />
We pooled our winning certificates and celebrated at Shenanigans in Leesburg for dinner.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6c2bAmGhDFSzD1EML2xCx9TK4nFfBCO8skdKgT-9xeCDFW6cTGATyHypQA8GNGQM4wpw_i7Ush37YkRSjQ227RfExn0Oo1jki5VgAveVkSG5nvQpsDoVHMx89GI6CkBYOiqx6XqOvyxiL/s1600/IMG_3608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6c2bAmGhDFSzD1EML2xCx9TK4nFfBCO8skdKgT-9xeCDFW6cTGATyHypQA8GNGQM4wpw_i7Ush37YkRSjQ227RfExn0Oo1jki5VgAveVkSG5nvQpsDoVHMx89GI6CkBYOiqx6XqOvyxiL/s1600/IMG_3608.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
Here are my race-life-connections:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
1. I try harder when someone encourages me. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. I try even harder when someone stays by my side through the hardest part.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
3. A finish line is better with friends and family. The shared-experience. The shared-accomplishment. The shared-celebration.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4. Family is everything. How I love sharing this race/this life with them! </div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2297220013291387645.post-36427869093494689452016-01-22T17:51:00.003-08:002016-01-22T18:20:12.019-08:00Snow and LightThe snow is here. I watched the world outside my kitchen window transform this afternoon from a silent brown to a soft blur of white. Mother nature has given me a weekend to breathe, remember, and write.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHqnMxZ5TYZtQtxrlvlKTWr2adFmwbTGwz5RTwITdmEM4oVqfDJehs_oXOzWCpOKlByT4_C_RbaWJyyJecZwc7iDtO9r4cl9tDK6o1nrn20GjWZ4E4nv20MXS8dv5e7PNhyTCqfe1wdJU/s1600/IMG_3730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHqnMxZ5TYZtQtxrlvlKTWr2adFmwbTGwz5RTwITdmEM4oVqfDJehs_oXOzWCpOKlByT4_C_RbaWJyyJecZwc7iDtO9r4cl9tDK6o1nrn20GjWZ4E4nv20MXS8dv5e7PNhyTCqfe1wdJU/s1600/IMG_3730.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kMR8S3kMmRTwoYV9rn6eTxpZ5hRxZnVIcntSj3wge_mBhz0NcrICUMmygtTjWvIoA3IR-P7rHSujuVR_Fu1KMGRoJ9QsphyAkJ-PXtoZovvJ3aSA77NLNGKRx4ICEUU9qyNnYY0VaF0b/s1600/IMG_3736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kMR8S3kMmRTwoYV9rn6eTxpZ5hRxZnVIcntSj3wge_mBhz0NcrICUMmygtTjWvIoA3IR-P7rHSujuVR_Fu1KMGRoJ9QsphyAkJ-PXtoZovvJ3aSA77NLNGKRx4ICEUU9qyNnYY0VaF0b/s1600/IMG_3736.JPG" /></a></div>
December was a flurry of activity (all without a single flake of snow!). My parents came to visit for two weeks. We packed our schedule full of seasonal fun. One highlight, for me, was Carols by Candlelight at the National Cathedral. We arrived in a downpour. Rain fell in sheets, drenching my parents and hiding the tall stone pillars which seemed to disappear in the grey sky. My mom spent the evening literally wringing and shaking out her soaked skirt.<br />
<br />
However, the music and glow of the evening warmed my soul. Near the end of the service, we lit our taper candles. From our view in the balcony, I watched as the light spread from person to person, down the rows until the cathedral twinkled like a starry night sky. The hope. The warmth of humanity. The light.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6INDjynIGTZq6LyybypLaTGLdZzkLp51LlzHl3ZQSqE0U9vs000pXQNRbshyphenhyphenD5V3KfK536CEeghBPQNH0n17cJSouf1GI1HPrv-UdVDKqOD8GYe-1vcZAkYfGrD_fGCvDG0AFLWWv2sv9/s1600/IMG_3482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6INDjynIGTZq6LyybypLaTGLdZzkLp51LlzHl3ZQSqE0U9vs000pXQNRbshyphenhyphenD5V3KfK536CEeghBPQNH0n17cJSouf1GI1HPrv-UdVDKqOD8GYe-1vcZAkYfGrD_fGCvDG0AFLWWv2sv9/s1600/IMG_3482.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfw1fiPyPA80AqG7YSR7kwWhdMiReJUHIprJKDc4nt6JPZJdt3OFwuC7mD5npF4hxBptZhBdVK_QZeZEBtCqLquu7t5ghVS_lc9go2XUe1nileqsT2RET3LwXtAUvyfZu6-UKNcSuAIVq/s1600/IMG_3486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfw1fiPyPA80AqG7YSR7kwWhdMiReJUHIprJKDc4nt6JPZJdt3OFwuC7mD5npF4hxBptZhBdVK_QZeZEBtCqLquu7t5ghVS_lc9go2XUe1nileqsT2RET3LwXtAUvyfZu6-UKNcSuAIVq/s1600/IMG_3486.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5dGcuN0q9Ogt856PrBCTEyra7ABCNFeMBOW5WPc3Xf3kHZ6IVm-3BgEtzptEEWTAAOorHqeulr2dRP0G0l7a5RiiUPgoemaLxsQVbUJRhdxN7YbgDB0Xh5uofkHIoyPr3VEjNpRDdSBg/s1600/IMG_3492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5dGcuN0q9Ogt856PrBCTEyra7ABCNFeMBOW5WPc3Xf3kHZ6IVm-3BgEtzptEEWTAAOorHqeulr2dRP0G0l7a5RiiUPgoemaLxsQVbUJRhdxN7YbgDB0Xh5uofkHIoyPr3VEjNpRDdSBg/s1600/IMG_3492.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
My hope for this coming year...no, it's always my hope, my never-ending hope, is that my life (and the lives of my children) can be filled with light.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08014682574909849818noreply@blogger.com0