tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11666582351356920882024-03-13T21:53:49.536-04:00Everyday KingsVeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.comBlogger442125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-35600177114003918332015-03-24T23:25:00.002-04:002015-03-24T23:25:46.147-04:00what ifs to even ifsI'm not sure why I'm here tonight, really.<br />
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I don't blog much anymore these days. Sure, I think about it often - wanting to record memories of my children and family for later reference, wanting to get off my chest some of my grief that still chokes me from time to time, or wanting to share what's on my heart about life and what I am continually learning from it. But I can't ever seem to find the free time to write it all down. I've also find myself in this strange place of figuring out how to honor my life with Jeremy or talk about my grief, while still feeling like I can celebrate the beautiful life I am living now and give honor to Steve and what we've built together. I can't always go back. Sometimes I need to, but other times it's painful and is not a true representation of where I am now. But then not talking about it must mean it's not there, right? At least that's what some assume. No matter how incorrect that is, the balance is difficult and I haven't had the time or energy to figure how how to delicately walk that line.<br />
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And yet, here I am. Sitting up because I was supposed to be doing on online course for CPR which isn't working properly, so I'm sitting here listening to my sweet husband snore beside me, and I came here. Staring at the blinking line wondering what my fingers would type out and where my words would take me.<br />
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I'm preparing to speak again in April for a women's retreat in Ohio and have been thinking and praying about what direction to go and how let God use my story in powerful ways. And all I have been thinking about lately is how humbled I am by my own story. Sometimes, I don't know how I got here. Other times, like driving down the road this morning in random memory of Jeremy and my chest tightens and tears spill from nowhere as I remember the pain of knowing I can't ever see, touch, talk to, or make memories with Jeremy again.<br />
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I read encouraging words from another former widow who writes about life after loss and loving again.<br />
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I replay the synchronizing, miraculous events that unfolded to get me to Honduras in November. I think about how blessed I am to have lived out that part of a beautiful story.<br />
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I look at my beautiful children, aching to be more for them while thankful that I can be present more than I could in those early 'after' days.<br />
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I think about when my 'what ifs' changed to 'even ifs' and how scary that can actually be.<br />
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And I realize, I'm still here because life is still worth it. Love is worth so much more. I feel inadequate to describe how bittersweet it is that I'm here and I'm so glad. I never thought I'd be able to say that again.<br />
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So, perhaps my purpose was to leave you with this piece from an amazing book I've been reading for the second time (we read it while in Honduras as well). It's become a focal point for me as I prepare for my speaking next month, and it gives words to where I am now.<br />
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<i>"And what makes all this hard stuff worth it? Only, always Him. God knows, we won't always be living the soothing words of the Psalms. we'll be living the agonized words of Nehemiah, Jeremiah and Lamentations that are miraculously still able to say with a loud voice, 'I want God.'</i><br />
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<i>And praise be to Him that just about the time we feel helpless, drowning, incapable of making such a proclamation of wanting Him, He blows in with a hopeful, resuscitating wind and - mouth on mouth - <b>revives us</b>. This is the glory of traveling with the Life - how He breathes vitality in dead spaces and offers His marvelous, illuminating light in places that are dark. And when we're in those dark places, we want God in big heaps and not small portions, because pain doesn't ever truly get better without Him. The more we have of Him, the more we survive and even thrive; the more beauty we extract from life."</i><br />
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<i>- I Want God by Lisa Whittle</i><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-40163323679930713042014-10-16T23:49:00.001-04:002014-10-16T23:51:45.923-04:00ReviveI have been wanting to update everyone on what's happening lately, especially about my experience at Women of Purpose. I realize that it was over a week and a half ago, but would you believe I haven't sat down for a moment since then? I promise just when I think life couldn't get any crazier or busier, it always does! But God is doing so many amazing things in my heart this year and I catch myself more and more stopping to take a deep breath and appreciate the blessings I have in every moment. When I stay focused on what's important, the business becomes purposeful and I can take it in stride a little easier. Besides, idol hands are the devil's handiwork, right? Or, something like that.<br />
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Well, the Women of Purpose conference was a beautiful, spirit-led day full of incredible women (and some men too!) encouraging one another in worship and in faith. I am happy to report that I survived my 40 minutes of speaking...and even went over if you can believe it (ok, those of you who know me and are chuckling right now cause you know what a talker I am can stop now - <i>I was surprised</i>). I was so blessed by everyone who came up and encouraged me afterwards with their own stories and how sharing my journey helped them even in the smallest ways. I count it a blessing when even one person is encouraged by my experience, so I was overwhelmed and humbled at the opportunity God gave me to share my story with so many. Oh yea, and I got to sing with some of my favorite Mountaineers too!<br />
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And of course woven into this wonderful event is the beautiful story of how God brought me to the woman who built a home in Honduras in honor of my Jeremy 3 years ago, and allowed our stories to overlap just a few weeks ago. If you didn't read how that happened....YOU NEED TO. Scroll down and read the last blog post I wrote. I still get emotional thinking about it.<br />
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And speaking of that, you all are AH-MAZ-ING. Within the first 12 hours, you all donated enough for Steve and I both to make the trip to Honduras to serve!!! I can't tell you how thankful I am that he gets to come with me and share that experience (not to mention, his desire to go was so strong, and you all made that happen for us both!)<br />
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Thank you, thank you, thank you!<br />
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I'm overjoyed to see the work that God has been doing, and I will try my best to document the trip for you all (and I'm sure I'll want to remember every detail). But my work is not done yet....<br />
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It will cost $1600 to build the next home in King's Quarters. The WOP team and the REVIVE team are doing their part to raise money for this trip, as well as carving out the time and resources to make this house building project possible this year, so I want to do my part and ask once again for you all to be a part of this amazing story. I know God's hand is in all this, as been made evident through this whole process - but every dollar helps. I am keeping the donations open until the first of November (click the donate button at the top left corner of this page), so there are only 2 weeks left to donate.<br />
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If that's not your cup of tea, consider buying a Revive t-shirt (I bought one and let me tell - they are not only cute, but SUPER comfy!) and with every purchase, we will send another t-shirt to our Honduran missionaries that we serve. It's a great way to do something good AND get something cute as a reminder - <a href="https://womenofpurpose.selz.com/item/54372b2cb798720da47b79ab">CLICK HERE</a> to order!<br />
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And if neither of those options are right for you (and that's ok!) - please consider setting aside a few minutes to pray over this trip and this ministry. Pray that the missionaries are indeed revived and blessed through these few days, pray that we raise the money needed for building as well as the money needed for REVIVE to operate, for safe travel, and for anyone involved to be blessed by this experience. This an important plea, as we can always use all the prayers we can get!</div>
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That's all I can keep my eyes open long enough to write out. Tonight, I go to bed with a full heart, and please know that YOU have a hand in that.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-70674717541134526732014-09-20T07:51:00.000-04:002014-09-20T07:51:53.201-04:00You won't believe this incredible story anymore than I did...I am shaking as I write this.<br />
I haven't been able to sleep.<br />
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It seems fitting that the first post on my blog in almost a year should arise out of this incredible experience I had last night. And I need to share it with you all.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I was asked to be a speaker/presenter to share my story for the Women of Purpose Conference here in Parkersburg (you can learn more about it <a href="http://www.movpurposeministries.org/">here</a>). I am definitely not a great public speaker and I'm incredibly nervous about delivering a message for hundreds of women, but I know God has a story to tell through me, and I am trying to be a willing vessel. I am humbled and honored at the opportunity. As a very cool twist of irony, I discovered this week that the event will be held in the very same building I came to lead worship in for a rally 2 weeks after Jeremy passed away. And some of the women on the WOP planning committee were in the audience that weekend and were praying over me when they heard my story. I can't really tell you why I went that weekend or even remember a whole lot about it, but it's humbling to put faces and names to the amazing people who lifted me up all over the country during the darkest days of my life.<br />
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Anyway, last night I went to a planning meeting for the event to run through the flow and focus of the day. One of the cool and unique things about Women of Purpose is that they support a ministry called <a href="http://movpurposeministries.org/revive-2/">Revive</a>, which serves missionaries in Honduras. As they were sitting around the room discussing details of the trip and sharing with me the blessings of the ministry and how much it has meant to them, I half jokingly but genuinely told them how much I would love to be part of something so powerful. It has always been my dream to do a mission overseas and the few times I've had the opportunity, it had fallen through for one reason or another. And Honduras has a special place in my heart already...<br />
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Any of you that have been following this blog long enough may remember that on the first anniversary of Jeremy's death, a woman contacted me to tell me that in honor of his memory a group of people were building a house in Honduras and putting up a family who desired to follow God. As they put them up in a home, they also shared Jeremy's legacy as encouragement and example of a godly man and father. (I posted about it <a href="http://veronking2003.blogspot.com/2011/11/one-year.html">here</a> - read it, it's amazing.) Of course, I hadn't touched base with that women in years but since that day, my heart has ached to someday travel to see the place that is marked with the memory of my husband.<br />
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I randomly shared this story with this group of strangers I barely knew.....and here's where it gets really crazy...<br />
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One of the women looked at me and said, "<i>That was me. I sent you that letter.</i>"<br />
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Excuse me, what?!<br />
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This woman (her name is Jen, btw), this beautiful spirit who probably without knowing it brought me hope on one of the hardest days of my life, who gave me this incredible piece of honor for my husband WAS SITTING IN THE ROOM WITH ME AND I DIDN'T KNOW IT.<br />
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If you don't have goosebumps at this point, then I'm not telling this story right. But, it gets even better. They need extra people on their team because of the growing demand for this ministry...to teach, lead worship, encourage and pray with these missionaries in Honduras, and asked if I'd like to be a part of the team. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! It's a no brainer - it combines so many things I've always dreamed about. And because of Revive and the great need for this ministry, they haven't put another home in "King's Quarter" since 3 years ago and there is a possibility that we may to able to add another this year and that I may get to HELP. BUILD. IT. (The tears are flowing for me now.)<br />
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If that's not enough, the trip just happens to land over November 9th, which will mark the 4th anniversary of Jeremy's death.<br />
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I got in my car that night and burst (almost literally) into tears! What an incredible overlapping of circumstance and stories that brought to me this moment. I have fumbled through how to share this and re-playing it over and over in my head. And praying. So much praying.<br />
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So....there's more to this story. This mission leaves in just over 6 weeks, and I am very far behind in the game! Luckily for me, I have everything necessary to make the trip except the funds for my flight. Lodging and food once I'm there will be covered, but I of course have to get myself there and back. I've never been good at asking for money, but here I am, hoping and asking for you to be a part of this incredible story and help me make this dream a reality.<br />
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My blog followers and those random people who just stop by once in awhile; my family and friends....you have all given me so much that I could never repay - monetarily, physically, spiritually - as well as banded together to bless another widow in her time of need. I am truly grateful for this space that God has used over and over again. I could never expect more from all of you. But, if you can find it in your heart to give, there would be no depth to my appreciation.<br />
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I have added the donation button at the top. My goal is to raise at least $1000 - anything above and beyond that will go to Revive to fund expenses for this ministry and further trips. If you can't give money, please consider giving up a few minute to lift these people up in prayer: The missionaries in Honduras, the people of Honduras, the WOP team, and my role in all of this as I attempt to serve in this incredible capacity.<br />
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Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this. For even considering supporting me, for praying, or just for taking the time to read my story and hopefully mark in your heart the legacy of the man I love and how God has worked through the tragedies in my life to bring hope to others and glory to Him.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-1173923470687165122013-12-15T19:14:00.000-05:002013-12-15T19:14:08.425-05:00If you think my hands are full, you should see my heart.Well, I have totally been slacking on this blog, and I apologize. Several people have emailed and messaged me asking me if I've had the baby yet and if everything was ok. Everything is wonderful, I just haven't had the time to sit down and share with the world the new joy in my life.<br />
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It's taken me 3 weeks to blog about it, but Bayor Matthias enter the world on November 23, 2013 at 8:49am, weighing a whopping 9lbs. 15oz. and measuring 20 inches long!<br />
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He is absolutely perfect. I am head over heels for this guy, and so is everyone else is our house.</div>
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What a joy it was to watch his brothers and sisters fall in love with him. They're all so great and such a big help. And going through this has made me fall in love with his daddy all over again too. I had a moment of deja vu when I was getting the epidural, and I started to have a panic attack because Steve wasn't in the room yet and I was terrified that I'd be doing this alone again. I had pushed aside how terrifying that really was for the last 3 years, but it seized me in that moment. But when Steve finally did come in the room, he kissed every tear away and calmed me down until we both heard the beautiful cries of our sweet son....and the tears came over me again.</div>
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I found out after the fact how much God really was watching over me. I had prayed really hard to have a VBAC, since I've never gotten to experience having a vaginal delivery. I got so close the first time around and desperately wanted to go through that with Steve. The doctor was hesitant because I had had more than 2 C-Sections and because there is always a 1% chance that my uterus could rupture, which would be fatal to both me and the baby, but he agreed to at least try if that's what I wanted.</div>
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Well, God didn't answer my prayer for a VBAC, but answered an unspoken prayer and saved my life and Bayor's. I was the 1%. As it turns out, the doctor found a tear in my uterus when he delivered Bayor. He said something about it to Steve at the time of birth, but didn't make it sound like too big of a deal. But the next morning he came into my hospital room to tell me how lucky I was to be here and that if I had gone into labor, or if anything out of the ordinary had happened, it would have been fatal. The tear was about 2 inches long and spanned across my stomach. He said that the only thing holding Bayor inside was the lining of my stomach. He also told me it was a good thing I had my tubes tied during the procedure, as having more kids in the future wasn't really an option any more.</div>
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After the doctor left the room, I started reading more about it (I was kind of in shock when he was talking and didn't ask enough questions) and just started balling, realizing how God had His hand in it. Even now thinking about it is a very sobering thought. I am ready to see Jesus, but my family needs me and the thought of our kids going through another loss so close to home makes me sick to my stomach. </div>
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Now here we are, home safe and sound, grateful and happy. Bayor was very swollen when he was born and dropped a lot of weight before he came home, so he's only now getting back up to his birth weight. But he is a wonderful baby with a very chill and sweet demeanor.<br />
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He has already brought so much joy in our lives and I love watching the way he has brought our family even closer. What a blessing.</div>
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I mean, seriously. Look at those faces. </div>
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"If you think my hands our full, you should see my heart."</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-58024403830220218612013-11-21T00:33:00.000-05:002013-11-21T00:33:18.394-05:00(not so) ordinary life<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfCLna5BvCtg2m_MKtbREPy6ehr2z6-smOq7UDildz7FuAL5frTOpEiEV5UxVdMEzLL-WeagKVd-Upb6QJsl7H1JbYDXHVILQehxayR8vOMaIqEdOOJhdXF2RCJte8JHQmshl0xKCLo3K/s1600/FaithandDaddyBW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfCLna5BvCtg2m_MKtbREPy6ehr2z6-smOq7UDildz7FuAL5frTOpEiEV5UxVdMEzLL-WeagKVd-Upb6QJsl7H1JbYDXHVILQehxayR8vOMaIqEdOOJhdXF2RCJte8JHQmshl0xKCLo3K/s400/FaithandDaddyBW.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">My favorite picture of Jeremy with our precious first born</td></tr>
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And so the countdown begins...</div>
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In 56 hours or less (not that I'm counting or anything), I will be holding a new little life in my arms. One small person I helped create. One tiny little reminder of what life is really all about.</div>
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My sweet little baby boy has no idea what his life represents already in this world. In a place that can be so cold, sometimes stabbing, unfair, and down right hopeless...my little miracle is a reminder that life can and will go on, and that it can and will be beautiful again.</div>
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This afternoon, I was watching my 7 year old concentrate so hard on her homework, trying to write sentences. As I watched her expressions, the curves of her face, the movements of her body, I was in awe of the fact that she used to be this 6 pound little miracle that introduced me to motherhood. I felt her daddy beam with pride at her inside me and I just couldn't stop taking her in. Memorizing all the pieces that are just her - how did she all of a sudden evolve into this beautiful young lady?! I had several of these moments today with all of my children. Maybe it's hormones, or maybe it's the clock ticking away reminding me that once again I will hold a new baby and blink an eye and he'll be 7 years old....but whatever it is, I'm trying to hold on to as many moments as I can.</div>
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I continue to be reminded of what bittersweet really means. The life of a widow seems to be plagued with this word. But maybe it's the bitter that makes us appreciate the sweet. And maybe we can only experience real bitterness because we've tasted sweet. </div>
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One of my favorite quotes is "<i>time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life.</i>" This epitomizes my journey. The moments that I remember and hold most dear in life really aren't the grand ones (although those are great too) but they're the ones where life stands still for just a moment and I'm able to observe and appreciate what life still brings.</div>
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I honestly cannot wait to start memorizing all the details of my son's features, hold his tiny hand, and soak in every moment I can before they slip away. I'm excited to watch my used-to-be-broken family put one more piece back together. </div>
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I'm ready to live out the rest of this not so ordinary life.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-12572022951307430462013-11-13T22:06:00.000-05:002013-11-13T22:06:29.946-05:00Ready. For now.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfQQtokcbEdukQ8pit94hnYhkLxMVmQQ06WpJQDnQl7bRrOvz6ILKC9vbl_84v6R3sLtGyxUUnYHC9V9wOBaioXLdswXgRKL5KXTwF8C9lOT9GDTp5nc9g7uACqYpjowEL1fA1Z-bEO-x/s1600/grief-relief-feature1big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfQQtokcbEdukQ8pit94hnYhkLxMVmQQ06WpJQDnQl7bRrOvz6ILKC9vbl_84v6R3sLtGyxUUnYHC9V9wOBaioXLdswXgRKL5KXTwF8C9lOT9GDTp5nc9g7uACqYpjowEL1fA1Z-bEO-x/s400/grief-relief-feature1big.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://greenorganicsinternational.com/">source</a></div>
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After hitting the 3 year mark on Saturday, I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Grief never really leaves, but I think the experience alone in a new place, along with the fear that I might have the baby before I got to properly grieve and get through the week left me scared and hurting in new and different ways. But, like always - and sometimes without my consent - I survived.</div>
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I watched most of my friends and family grieve from afar, over facebook. I watched some people forget. I watched my kids write sweet notes and hand prints on lanterns and their faces lit up when we let them off in the sky. I watched the clock, remembering every moment of the day 3 years before. I watched my phone, looking for the names of people I care about to pop up. Some did, some didn't. And I watched for signs that somehow, somewhere, someone made a mistake and after three years, this wasn't still real.</div>
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Now, I feel ready to go back to facing the life that Jeremy wanted for me. I know I'll have plenty more days like last week, when the weight of everything seems too much, but for now, I have some clarity. I have contentment. I have the desire to make him proud and love the way he taught me how. I feel this urgency to not waste the short life I had with him and to continue to love and appreciate what I have now. I was gifted with another reminder of how short life is....and to see that as a 'gift' is no small feat. I can feel a piece of Jeremy's heart beating through mine and through the hearts of the 3 little miracles we created together. And I see more pieces in his sweet family that means the world to me. I will hold on to those pieces and take them with me along the way.</div>
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I'm ready. For now. Ready to face another day, ready to live, laugh, and love. And most importantly, right now....I'm ready to have this baby!</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-78810619728768232982013-11-06T19:33:00.000-05:002013-11-06T19:33:10.034-05:00When words are not enough<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JLHe9cj1Egv2Y3HYm4xxXn1xxWW5alm81NUX4HYFvAZgF6Zcyv3XkV7M1kdvjSS9UKVdweDiJXBvT30OHOXbE1ZJ6wmYSPYJD52tG5M6plBFP_Nc58K6xvx0GL6EJOryxvJRg-jlGQmb/s1600/words.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JLHe9cj1Egv2Y3HYm4xxXn1xxWW5alm81NUX4HYFvAZgF6Zcyv3XkV7M1kdvjSS9UKVdweDiJXBvT30OHOXbE1ZJ6wmYSPYJD52tG5M6plBFP_Nc58K6xvx0GL6EJOryxvJRg-jlGQmb/s400/words.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="266" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.deviantart.com/">source</a></div>
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This Saturday marks 3 years since Jeremy took his last breath.</div>
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How can that possibly be?</div>
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Every year, I am in awe of how crazy it seems that so much time has passed, and yet how far away it seems when so much life has been lived in between. I have truly experienced more in the past 3 years than most people do in a lifetime. Since Jer died, I've bought 2 houses, purchased a new vehicle, traveled all over the country, lost and gained friends, dated and remarried, blended a large family, moved out of state, had a baby without his daddy, and am preparing to have another child with another man. Surely these things couldn't possibly describe MY life...</div>
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And yet, no matter how much life has been lived since I've seen Jeremy, the weight of the hole he has left in my life is still so evident, and still a very painful reality I face daily. The last several weeks have been especially hard for me. Part of it is because I now grieve so far away from his family and friends, far away from the life I shared with him, and far away from where I can feel his presence. I feel so far removed. I ache to hold on to pieces of him during this season. Part of it also is from the fact that the closer I get to delivering, the more terrified I feel. Pregnancy hormones alone could do me in, but the sleepless nights remembering a piece of my grief that I never thought I'd have to face again is sometimes too much. My anxiety level is high, to say the least.</div>
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I was texting with a friend this weekend just about how crazy it is that it's already been 3 years. And I realized how much I ached just to talk to someone about it. To let it out. To have someone actually ask me. She had no idea how much that filled my heart up. I confessed that it's been hard to feel like I have no outlet lately. She asked me if writing was no longer an outlet. I had to think about that for a minute....</div>
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Writing has always been my way of expressing emotion. Words are my ally and my weapon of choice. They help me sort through my own head when things don't make sense. And being able to write about my grief journey has brought me more healing than I could have ever imagined. But I found myself at a crossroads of guilt. Guilt for feeling like I couldn't talk about the depths of my pain without somehow sounding ungrateful for the life I have now and the blessings that come with it. And guilt for being too grateful for the life I have now and feeling like people think it means I'm just ok and don't need to talk about Jeremy anymore. I also just don't like feeling like I'm seeking out attention. Writing makes people think they know me and therefore the personal connections are lacking because they think they know where I'm at. They can watch from a distance.</div>
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The truth is that words sometimes are not enough. Most of the time, I really don't have much NEW to say. I've run out of ways to express how much I miss Jeremy, how much my heart longs for him, how hard it is to watch my kids grow up without knowing him.......it really never changes, just evolves. I want to scream from the top of my lungs just how much grief sucks still sometimes. I want the world to know what an incredible husband I have now, and that how deeply I cherish him has no impact on the amount of grief I have and will continue to carry through the rest of this life. I wish I could find the right words....words that connect with everyone. But, I can't reach everyone. All I can do is write what I know, what I am living.</div>
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I keep going back to an analogy I heard shortly after Jeremy died, I think in a book I read somewhere. It painted a picture of train tracks, one track representing grief and one representing joy: both running side by side on the same path. They both exist together.</div>
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This week, I don't have the right words. Just a jumbled mess of emotions that seem to represent my heart these days. My words are not enough. But just remembering to put one foot in front of the other is sometimes all I need to do.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-60490630875625818952013-10-15T11:02:00.000-04:002013-10-15T11:02:26.232-04:00A letter to my little poppyTo my sweet little poppy,<br />
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As it stands today, I am 33 1/2 weeks pregnant and this is the first time I've been able to write these words down. They've been navigating my heart and swarming in my brain since the day I found out about you, but I haven't let my fingers get it all out.<br />
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You see, the last time I wrote a letter to my unborn child - your soon to be big brother - tragedy struck and paralyzed my heart for a long time. I lost sight of a lot of things and had to navigate my way back to reality one short and difficult breath at a time. But this letter is not about that tragedy. This letter is about the miracle that is YOU. Being afraid of losing you or people that I love couldn't dare stop me from taking the opportunity to express to you my joy and anticipation that you have already brought to this world. I'm just sorry it took me so long.<br />
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You, my precious baby boy, represent so much in our family already and you don't even know it! You epitomize redemption, healing, love, and already you have brought our family closer together. Just the idea of your arrival has changed our world. And what an unexpected and beautiful change is has been.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi25LU_86KAdI8j3eu_z2iO-DUvtfNPV1bGHToj_MPQX57hmoQ8c8Z4LhyphenhyphenJ_lEO_bGAGrtZv-EUyYDyWDk0bb3EtA2DowqBphvhcVIblQvjOSP-dEez-5E39Nm3VpvT5UEdSlnXZc3nUA/s1600/poppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi25LU_86KAdI8j3eu_z2iO-DUvtfNPV1bGHToj_MPQX57hmoQ8c8Z4LhyphenhyphenJ_lEO_bGAGrtZv-EUyYDyWDk0bb3EtA2DowqBphvhcVIblQvjOSP-dEez-5E39Nm3VpvT5UEdSlnXZc3nUA/s400/poppy.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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Your daddy and I never intended to have you. Coming together with 5 children seemed crazy enough and our house was already bursting at the seams. But God always seems to have better plans than the ones we create for ourselves. When He put you on our hearts, we knew it would be worth every sleepless night, every corner of space we would lose, every tear, every dirty house day, and every exhausted evening.<br />
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It is my prayer that by the time you are old enough to read this letter, you will understand the uniqueness that is our family and learn about the joys and trials that blended our family together, but that you will feel nothing short of unconditional love. Your brain might understand some of the broken pieces that create our family, but your heart will only know of the completeness that was and is the result.<br />
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From day one, this pregnancy has been completely different. Nausea like I've never experienced before, weight gain in all the wrong places, aches, pains - it's so funny how I thought I knew what was coming, and you continue to be a surprise! But every time I feel you kick or giggle at your hiccups (which you get ALL the time!) all those things melt away and I soak up every precious moment of you. You are so well loved. Your brothers and sisters are going crazy waiting for you to come out already! They love to read to you, talk to you, kiss you good night, pray for you - you are a very important piece of our family.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNzIzmatQneK0f6z9JYHwQtzDemrksp9764oEY_a7pToi8nGpt4mqDnHQRJXBST4acC-MUP4I_CSh3ks0qnJ8Qa90zbjkFV_MgfNTPpbUjef8wMVuAXxZGsTaCWWpfZ9YutINjyM7drY/s1600/poppy2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNzIzmatQneK0f6z9JYHwQtzDemrksp9764oEY_a7pToi8nGpt4mqDnHQRJXBST4acC-MUP4I_CSh3ks0qnJ8Qa90zbjkFV_MgfNTPpbUjef8wMVuAXxZGsTaCWWpfZ9YutINjyM7drY/s400/poppy2.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
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Life has been so crazy these last 7 1/2 months, we barely have anything ready for you! But I know it will all come together and you will never know the difference. I also want you to know how excited your daddy is to hold you and rock you to sleep. He is such a blessing in my life and I pray every day that God keeps him safe and in our family for many years to come. He teaches me so much about love, service, humility, hard work, and God - and I pray you grow up to learn the same qualities from watching him. I'm afraid once you get here, he may not put you down for the rest of us to hold!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2XDA5w_728_2T4M2_mJUujRqhd-dGmOcIiVWvjuJ5VcH4D-sMfV3fnddBBcmI7u-wxz_9UbbtfPc_0Mkderoy09268lbaBefw7H1qr5nKZKho_0v9xRMNRMzvLU3UJLWJkcT1LG-crU/s1600/poppy3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2XDA5w_728_2T4M2_mJUujRqhd-dGmOcIiVWvjuJ5VcH4D-sMfV3fnddBBcmI7u-wxz_9UbbtfPc_0Mkderoy09268lbaBefw7H1qr5nKZKho_0v9xRMNRMzvLU3UJLWJkcT1LG-crU/s400/poppy3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I can't wait to see what you look like, to see what pieces you posses from each person in our family. I know you will be beautiful. I can't wait to see the look on your daddy's face, and on the faces of your brothers and sisters. And I absolutely cannot wait to watch our family evolve and grow and love because you are in the world.<br />
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I love you, sweet baby boy.<br />
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Love always,<br />
Mommy<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-88149409236258720882013-10-03T08:00:00.000-04:002013-10-03T08:00:11.913-04:00New house tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Okay, now that I FINALLY shared our before and afters of our house in Michigan, I can give you the house tour of our house in West Virginia - since it is now officially ours and people have been bugging me about it! So, without further ado - our beautiful new house:</div>
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After the first time we walked through the house, Steve and I had an ongoing argument about what the color this house actually was....he thought white, I said light blue. Truth is, we were both off (it's actually a light grayish blue), but what really counts is that I was MORE right. ;)</div>
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This is the main entry way. Straight ahead to the kitchen, upstairs to the bedrooms, right to the main floor bathroom and an entryway to main living room. And if you turn right....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DpTVTJzAhgbxdmtzKsJtd3Zrr0kLcKouSY874mBm-MaYQAWxTWu56kiHcKnBf5j6922gNDxTPHGUJxXtR_JIFQ985W5w_P2a3B4YXDRB541opFYwb02YjyH1DRMst08cl7GcavzQUrk/s1600/IMG_0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DpTVTJzAhgbxdmtzKsJtd3Zrr0kLcKouSY874mBm-MaYQAWxTWu56kiHcKnBf5j6922gNDxTPHGUJxXtR_JIFQ985W5w_P2a3B4YXDRB541opFYwb02YjyH1DRMst08cl7GcavzQUrk/s400/IMG_0500.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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You'll see the coat closet and the front living room:</div>
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Walking through the front living room takes you through this entry to the dining room...</div>
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With 5 kids, white carpet, and beautiful floral wallpaper, what could go wrong?!?!? (Sense the sarcasm...I can't WAIT to get rid of this wallpaper and put wood floors down since our 2 year old has already stained this carpet with red koolaid, among other things!)</div>
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Turn right again (I hope you've figure out we're walking through in a clockwise circle), you'll enter the kitchen...and the door across goes to the main living room, which you'll see in a minute.</div>
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This kitchen feels much smaller than it is. There is TONS of storage, a huge food pantry, which is a dream come true, but the cabinets are so dark and close off this space, and of course the 80's wallpaper and floral curtains don't do it for me. Can't wait to get to work on the after of this space!</div>
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The door below you see on the left with a doggie door in it goes to the basement.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3oaMDUrdcXnHduS464F_MnxZrsfIkjSevRcTOmlyRCuR4fcejL-GTga2XiIaV8t9v0TeCAOv4BnuB2jUT3T5Bn_Yg5tq0sNZrqlE0MIThQAMDqileg9dd1veRyHR2FzPQSZYXGbU7Gg/s1600/IMG_0509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3oaMDUrdcXnHduS464F_MnxZrsfIkjSevRcTOmlyRCuR4fcejL-GTga2XiIaV8t9v0TeCAOv4BnuB2jUT3T5Bn_Yg5tq0sNZrqlE0MIThQAMDqileg9dd1veRyHR2FzPQSZYXGbU7Gg/s400/IMG_0509.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Okay, here is the main living room. Love the brick fire place and the giant space....but Lord have mercy, that wood paneling will be the FIRST to go! (In fact, we've already started painting it the day we closed on the house!)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk81da8-X-JFf61FQkkDHE4dHd9zy5DxLhXIwply_1Yy0IcrrIGzx9-E06UF8Gm98K_7jJr3moW617IK3Vaa2jnd9w2QEweMyZLfPjWQ9xIdlVBUpIllpkZ9fihtX_IrOu5cqrzksh_w/s1600/IMG_0510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk81da8-X-JFf61FQkkDHE4dHd9zy5DxLhXIwply_1Yy0IcrrIGzx9-E06UF8Gm98K_7jJr3moW617IK3Vaa2jnd9w2QEweMyZLfPjWQ9xIdlVBUpIllpkZ9fihtX_IrOu5cqrzksh_w/s400/IMG_0510.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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From the main living room, you walk out to the deck...<br />
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And you get to see this beautiful view....</div>
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We live next door to a wildlife preserve, so we get to see TONS of deer in our backyard!</div>
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Okay, to complete the full circle of the main floor, here is the main bathroom. Complete with more floral wallpaper...</div>
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Alright, now onto the upstairs... (this is from the top looking down)</div>
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Hallway</div>
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We'll go counter-clockwise on this level. If you reach the top of the stairs and take an immediate right, you'll come to Reagan and Faith's room...</div>
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Nothing too exciting, YET, but it is significantly bigger than their last room..with a lot more closet space.</div>
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Next up on the same end of the house, is our oldest Zada's room. Also, much bigger than her last room - and we plan to Zebra this place up soon!</div>
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Keeping with our circle, next you come to the upstairs bathroom with double sinks and a shower! What a novel idea for the upstairs where all the bedrooms are! (I kid because our previous house only had a bath upstairs, the main level had the shower)</div>
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Next we come to another bedroom that was converted to a laundry room. As much as we want to convert it back to a bedroom - I absolutely LOVE having our laundry room upstairs. No more folding laundry on the couch, transporting clothes everywhere and making a big mess. The kids can grab their laundry and bring it right to their rooms. Not to mention, it's HUGE. So for now, it will stay a laundry room.</div>
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It's actually a turquoise color (the same color you'll see in the boy's room next, in fact, but you can't tell in these pictures because the lighting is weird)</div>
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Next is the boy's room. All of the rooms are significantly bigger than our last house. Lucky for these guys, cause there might be three rambunctious boys in here for a couple years.</div>
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Last room upstairs is our beautiful master bedroom...</div>
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Our master is the size of our old living room! So needless to say, we barely have enough furniture to fit in it. But we're happy nonetheless. Plus, it makes plenty of space for baby for the first few months. And...check out our own master bath....yes, double sinks again. </div>
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If you think I'm spoiled now, check out this walk-in closet!!! I about peed my pants when I saw this. I have no reason to leave my bedroom now (I'll just order room service from my children and husband hehe)</div>
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That completes the tour for now. I don't have any pictures of the garage or basement yet. The basement is the ugliest space in the house, and the dog lived down there, so the smell is messing with my pregnancy nose big time. But right now, everything we haven't unpacked yet is being stored down there. Someday, it will come together. It's hard to be patient to watch things come together, but I'm brewing with excitement to create a space that suites our family.</div>
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Thanks for taking the tour with me. More importantly, thank you for all the prayers and kind words of encouragement that got us here in the first place! I love you all.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-85124823282735325852013-10-01T10:11:00.001-04:002013-10-01T10:11:54.060-04:00Updates (and pictures)I know, I know....<br />
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I've been terrible about blogging lately. I can't even begin to tell you how crazy life has been lately. Between moving, starting school, working at the church during the day, unpacking, events, dinner, homework....yikes, it gets crazy. It feels good to have a purpose though. I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be right now, and that God is using me in his church again. I decided that I'd give my September to focus on church work (cleaning/re-organizing office area, clean up and renovate youth house, help Steve plan Children's ministry program, church Rummage sale, and head up Trunk-or-treat) and we've gotten a lot accomplished! And, I'm exhausted :)<br />
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Now, I am splitting my time between church and our home which we officially own as of yesterday! In celebration, we went to Sherwin Williams to pick out paint for our living room, which is currently wood paneling and just icky and dark. I can FINALLY start taking down wallpaper and paint rooms and make this house a home. Just wait, people...I am gonna rock this place!<br />
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Oh yea....and somewhere in there I AM HAVING A BABY! sheesh - we are unprepared for that! We have nothing really ready for baby, but as long as this little bundle of joy doesn't come too early, we will devote some time to getting ready for that. We spent some time last night just before bedtime with all the kids just watching my belly move and shake....what a special time with our children to watch them bond over become brothers and sisters again and together. This baby will be well loved.<br />
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Okay, I will do my best to catch everyone up date. I wanted to start with our home in Michigan (which sold in 3 days BTW!!!) Since this house was so special to me and our family, it was definitely hard to leave behind. Unexpected tears took over when we pulled away from the house to move in. But, I worked very hard on the house and we put a lot of love and care into the house, so I wanted to share with everyone the before and afters of our home.<br />
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The front of our house before (with white shutters, broken garage door, and no landscaping...)<br />
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And, the front of our house after we replaced the garage door, painted the door, post and shutters black, replaced light fixtures, added landscaping and took a picture in the summer so the grass looks green and pretty...hehe)<br />
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My mom came over one day to help me put some pretty black mulch and a few flowers in the front yard...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPJ3R1IYeP64ZTRf5MeNJBwZjVDua3Xo-F2jREoecxm6bi3b7I6qx_EMYoVPHyYwrBQ1qWpHvht_zCZShjt5sitVY2rWwQb-Le5tCjvrMSWhOj7tFtEx7gJ1KIUEnReNSI2-Qu6_yS9o/s1600/IMG_0275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPJ3R1IYeP64ZTRf5MeNJBwZjVDua3Xo-F2jREoecxm6bi3b7I6qx_EMYoVPHyYwrBQ1qWpHvht_zCZShjt5sitVY2rWwQb-Le5tCjvrMSWhOj7tFtEx7gJ1KIUEnReNSI2-Qu6_yS9o/s400/IMG_0275.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMzcI1KXbEw2EeTePqCpX5cejGp1nxkTABr8D_Tf_hIwn1RDIrGDDxBnseA1e3LeCqX2fcG3OZPff7dY-QtaDndbnw9jFgomndbs_SS8Qw7C8krdj_Noiwx26ghdhMCHAnDb6vI7Y2yQ/s1600/IMG_0276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMzcI1KXbEw2EeTePqCpX5cejGp1nxkTABr8D_Tf_hIwn1RDIrGDDxBnseA1e3LeCqX2fcG3OZPff7dY-QtaDndbnw9jFgomndbs_SS8Qw7C8krdj_Noiwx26ghdhMCHAnDb6vI7Y2yQ/s400/IMG_0276.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Walking into the front of the house, here is the living room before:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoySLX1gNcWh0zxcaYgWYpWuvDOI1FyqHZ-WzWIHIf9cnxXxuCklcon-HkcVEAybhHm5PJdUcSZgOJMVCU3E-Iw8gdCYHjrOpeaju1Y5vvQFQ_TqDk_fkJUboyyAl5Nn4ELLDzwcHz_U/s1600/photo-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoySLX1gNcWh0zxcaYgWYpWuvDOI1FyqHZ-WzWIHIf9cnxXxuCklcon-HkcVEAybhHm5PJdUcSZgOJMVCU3E-Iw8gdCYHjrOpeaju1Y5vvQFQ_TqDk_fkJUboyyAl5Nn4ELLDzwcHz_U/s400/photo-49.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And the living room after:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BZ8MF0Pnvobj3skfNNqASlyvtXlWekrpSDKsELMqk8SPciSHRNLztM_nOam54T7h7EhDhICeB0g4tXbblYDyr-RvWmhZMDTUdEPcIDG-8i9htSnUg4CQYPLC_X7EG2ft9eTrq8Sq4kM/s1600/IMG_0305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BZ8MF0Pnvobj3skfNNqASlyvtXlWekrpSDKsELMqk8SPciSHRNLztM_nOam54T7h7EhDhICeB0g4tXbblYDyr-RvWmhZMDTUdEPcIDG-8i9htSnUg4CQYPLC_X7EG2ft9eTrq8Sq4kM/s400/IMG_0305.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Walls went from green to gray, trim painted white, and floors stained walnut)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4b9ZBZBWu8eTuT5KWns-W11gVqGTevfGWmB8C8EOFV-ApTvsmM0Mb1JVi2GgXCVFaXSM91j4UjJHRZL1fY2XG-0I_sOW_XDbKFjzrUL38bu9BhLEVvGkYio23DHesPMRCOnv9ovye75w/s1600/IMG_0304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4b9ZBZBWu8eTuT5KWns-W11gVqGTevfGWmB8C8EOFV-ApTvsmM0Mb1JVi2GgXCVFaXSM91j4UjJHRZL1fY2XG-0I_sOW_XDbKFjzrUL38bu9BhLEVvGkYio23DHesPMRCOnv9ovye75w/s400/IMG_0304.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Oh yeah, and our beloved wood pallet wall, which was hard to part with, since we just put it up!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHXyZsZU5qDezCHZqQwuvvOSmoRSy9VbHwacSD2MbcJE-1lreNrMjwhKl2TwAqpt8Qj5GKknff40HaSR6bwJx0jqt7Z5x1fbCwxm4idc9pbWiVKUVsQpt1KyJO8r6kd_PP_zuwxoP0RI/s1600/IMG_0307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHXyZsZU5qDezCHZqQwuvvOSmoRSy9VbHwacSD2MbcJE-1lreNrMjwhKl2TwAqpt8Qj5GKknff40HaSR6bwJx0jqt7Z5x1fbCwxm4idc9pbWiVKUVsQpt1KyJO8r6kd_PP_zuwxoP0RI/s400/IMG_0307.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Our kitchen BEFORE:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5c4bLremiTYPuy-wZxVUZlFWbHKOPpQOu4oo4lIcf3OUAnFnd6IQB7tmuW2djVOE3jilu8Jp8_unZgKC9r3_X7AC1gZHrwOKs0amz6wZDDC3jw-FrmueYv2OyBdbZK2yJhA5LlcqLANk/s1600/kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5c4bLremiTYPuy-wZxVUZlFWbHKOPpQOu4oo4lIcf3OUAnFnd6IQB7tmuW2djVOE3jilu8Jp8_unZgKC9r3_X7AC1gZHrwOKs0amz6wZDDC3jw-FrmueYv2OyBdbZK2yJhA5LlcqLANk/s400/kitchen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We named the paint color in this room "Baby poop yellow."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWsEruCoMZRZf3yrxVPFOxYKMF2oWWrqvYrVYPinL24oTzEh6DVxt92lB9E0XMyouq2TnFUAUcpn54aXxhsJofIuiYLSrpp-lET44fRruH_vCe0wbxubpl1zB-chQXmuSq_oxdwVI3yQ/s1600/photo-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWsEruCoMZRZf3yrxVPFOxYKMF2oWWrqvYrVYPinL24oTzEh6DVxt92lB9E0XMyouq2TnFUAUcpn54aXxhsJofIuiYLSrpp-lET44fRruH_vCe0wbxubpl1zB-chQXmuSq_oxdwVI3yQ/s400/photo-51.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And the beautiful AFTER:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6s3MNlrNIHFiPV7vETv0yDc5zthh_lKDkVysMfXLgENNOXI7LToketQPdlzIkO_8odV4gvtX2otg1VZSmU4HLa60P2ntfjHibC27IhBs5WRWyH5IZmgi5Ld_lTpKWxBjf0LlB9hUJec/s1600/IMG_0272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6s3MNlrNIHFiPV7vETv0yDc5zthh_lKDkVysMfXLgENNOXI7LToketQPdlzIkO_8odV4gvtX2otg1VZSmU4HLa60P2ntfjHibC27IhBs5WRWyH5IZmgi5Ld_lTpKWxBjf0LlB9hUJec/s400/IMG_0272.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Painted walls (thank goodness!), trim and cabinets, stained floor, and new appliances)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQVJZAQMgWw-RsfDL60S7af8XiZZsl4M5CHYpAm_EfVPjQr8fs1fSKyrgWmdVIS1Glu1FJoVj0ViLK_OJn9p0_d5ITD4QGgwEvarUTRaKFXTl28AhP0yzqa1OrolSxcpQnWv0iAH757c/s1600/IMG_0292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQVJZAQMgWw-RsfDL60S7af8XiZZsl4M5CHYpAm_EfVPjQr8fs1fSKyrgWmdVIS1Glu1FJoVj0ViLK_OJn9p0_d5ITD4QGgwEvarUTRaKFXTl28AhP0yzqa1OrolSxcpQnWv0iAH757c/s400/IMG_0292.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Before and after of the main floor hallway to bathroom and laundry room (not too much to report):</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjhRdfQKrYxiru3gcbMGZDKAAOUrvf-XAbxLziaY1_ZwJSzcvnCoZ96ZP-mWsLS1pSAXQVm_zwM6Rjl59_N6k-zMGR8AqC9Lpjj8wW4-k4jjk4zvMttJnLgJWIV_flAq7JfAvVLLcbh0/s1600/IMG_0289.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/AVvXsEgBjhRdfQKrYxiru3gcbMGZDKAAOUrvf-XAbxLziaY1_ZwJSzcvnCoZ96ZP-mWsLS1pSAXQVm_zwM6Rjl59_N6k-zMGR8AqC9Lpjj8wW4-k4jjk4zvMttJnLgJWIV_flAq7JfAvVLLcbh0/s320/IMG_0289.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBcWtC-oOq1pV20BPlxpQlso2WYtWX8JtUIoJoX01mo4jTveqXNsgwprWkZjXQ3nppM65CUreByxNcZYZXnlPgqK4YyYzM6HUgXof9AVrGnirMeLkopFfzdglmJUDFtb3Z9g-EPWKYRI/s1600/photo-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBcWtC-oOq1pV20BPlxpQlso2WYtWX8JtUIoJoX01mo4jTveqXNsgwprWkZjXQ3nppM65CUreByxNcZYZXnlPgqK4YyYzM6HUgXof9AVrGnirMeLkopFfzdglmJUDFtb3Z9g-EPWKYRI/s320/photo-53.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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For some reason, I don't have a before picture of the main floor bathroom...this is when I painted it the first time (which ended up being way too dark for my taste) and what you can't see is the nasty floor, oak counter and marble green counter top:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_UkM2s6Dh-EmzV2F2XE6CM1822SoZGTSZIISWKZKtmcwae6aRVXoHoIry987LJm79QDCGa0riSpx_JsyS5qeuM2O3Nq0gB6VC1ry5DRXMZ0SMGWXITvEFFUefOR8np-BsA8EUUI0gbk/s1600/IMG_2876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_UkM2s6Dh-EmzV2F2XE6CM1822SoZGTSZIISWKZKtmcwae6aRVXoHoIry987LJm79QDCGa0riSpx_JsyS5qeuM2O3Nq0gB6VC1ry5DRXMZ0SMGWXITvEFFUefOR8np-BsA8EUUI0gbk/s400/IMG_2876.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Steve and I replaced the floor, vanity, lighting, mirror...pretty much everything. I wish you could see it all!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbTmG60oMFeF45eBkyl2xHOcOijqJ_SXIUzWlqH24YhUaWtCjqLi4D-PTASWM9cKuObygZqIDThZK7kD0LEfrbbhofg9A-JUuvF2NaIcp0q9MCp50IkCPc7i8DmJM2k8h044DfMUD0Dg/s1600/IMG_0291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbTmG60oMFeF45eBkyl2xHOcOijqJ_SXIUzWlqH24YhUaWtCjqLi4D-PTASWM9cKuObygZqIDThZK7kD0LEfrbbhofg9A-JUuvF2NaIcp0q9MCp50IkCPc7i8DmJM2k8h044DfMUD0Dg/s400/IMG_0291.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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The laundry room before and after is also not too exciting...but we did paint it the same bright color as the kitchen. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0dVa_Ek3_Z3WI2jGpnQDoxHkggvpKQUpdAKbt4LkqpMON636YSb1_A5R0ZEaCTRGK9jYvr-7NA9VlW69yXm4tip99jJ3Thh6O-eRftqOLxP5zdA4zlffBcM9BdjJyG7YO36_BY2e8klk/s1600/IMG_0290.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/AVvXsEi0dVa_Ek3_Z3WI2jGpnQDoxHkggvpKQUpdAKbt4LkqpMON636YSb1_A5R0ZEaCTRGK9jYvr-7NA9VlW69yXm4tip99jJ3Thh6O-eRftqOLxP5zdA4zlffBcM9BdjJyG7YO36_BY2e8klk/s320/IMG_0290.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qMp31RVFxctAJMMFqnVKeMZl2wyg68UbbPnCwY4-cmO7fZsQp9oyHWOPvz3sL2qBrZIZOrG9qz6vQK8aOBm-6DOSONW_6bTR5FUNrOTrrLqDpsCSEz8cj8_ucaRh21lqzko7BQTmbF0/s1600/photo-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qMp31RVFxctAJMMFqnVKeMZl2wyg68UbbPnCwY4-cmO7fZsQp9oyHWOPvz3sL2qBrZIZOrG9qz6vQK8aOBm-6DOSONW_6bTR5FUNrOTrrLqDpsCSEz8cj8_ucaRh21lqzko7BQTmbF0/s320/photo-54.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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Now onto the upstairs....again, I don't have a before photo of the girls' room, but it was yellow with red carpet (think ketchup and mustard). It also did not have a closet. We were lucky enough to be able to build one into the attic of the garage. And here is the result:</div>
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Eventually, I WILL paint those beds white to match the monogramed headboards I painted. You know, when I have a bunch of free time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsv4V7du0YQmBatJNPDyALNpd-aWbPODgoOZBUuRy3zS0IwpCE4q7ErrEKdoIIUVDUjwhD3a5ijOKsr3lHuAQ1N7tWCX04r-GdE90Km0VKOudomUYPKbyFAt1wQ_rGQZWZxsQ82sM8MyY/s1600/IMG_0263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsv4V7du0YQmBatJNPDyALNpd-aWbPODgoOZBUuRy3zS0IwpCE4q7ErrEKdoIIUVDUjwhD3a5ijOKsr3lHuAQ1N7tWCX04r-GdE90Km0VKOudomUYPKbyFAt1wQ_rGQZWZxsQ82sM8MyY/s400/IMG_0263.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Apparently, I did not take pictures of the kids rooms upstairs. Or, I just can't find them. This room was brown and smelled severely of animal urine...I think it was a tan color. This was the only picture I could find of it, because the first night we spent in the home was on Caleb's birthday so I wanted his room to be finished first. You can't see much of the room, since he slept in his birthday bed tent lol:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOjhcgA31_Kp3T1wYKzEVJZWrDz7bs0SU5IQ0Is2HtNQetiAzNAy3LCzg5mkBDn8E4gPC67RGONCgRtFl_KMSQ2RoblO-Asjy3xZavnCq7NJtD_DatzmltuRBsFt_FuiBgVCH-BZNKLs/s1600/IMG_1368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOjhcgA31_Kp3T1wYKzEVJZWrDz7bs0SU5IQ0Is2HtNQetiAzNAy3LCzg5mkBDn8E4gPC67RGONCgRtFl_KMSQ2RoblO-Asjy3xZavnCq7NJtD_DatzmltuRBsFt_FuiBgVCH-BZNKLs/s400/IMG_1368.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Then, we transformed it into one of our favorite rooms when Zada moved in - a zebra and pink, perfect for an almost teenager, and surprised her with it!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslG8WQHc6joG8GipQ8zUUEbVs0OV7KuCq1NYa5ZLIcAsYhstJNhRl_ci57AQyjUUmZePV2-_lvAV2sTB6w_Q6E2wqFrco8bC39mdnXL24nCUd1mRpzsvCGGG2Tp_izuwC_gj7cmrBk5Q/s1600/IMG_0286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslG8WQHc6joG8GipQ8zUUEbVs0OV7KuCq1NYa5ZLIcAsYhstJNhRl_ci57AQyjUUmZePV2-_lvAV2sTB6w_Q6E2wqFrco8bC39mdnXL24nCUd1mRpzsvCGGG2Tp_izuwC_gj7cmrBk5Q/s400/IMG_0286.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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You can't see in the picture, but the inside of the closet is painted Zebra as well :)</div>
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What started off as Carter's nursery eventually became the boy's shared room. It was the most decent room in its BEFORE, just gray. We painted and replaced the carpet in the whole upstairs.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPL8Hi1YBxfP571XIGep-blXx-riwRV7wa0fzQS4rpPakCsBXdR5eDVYmeIQfFVo2cUbid44_YiILmJKOLSAOtnygGvIwdOoeIw7S0tm9jWBfoy46iowCnpN4HjJSVwlB2YDK_vy3uqQ/s1600/IMG_0255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPL8Hi1YBxfP571XIGep-blXx-riwRV7wa0fzQS4rpPakCsBXdR5eDVYmeIQfFVo2cUbid44_YiILmJKOLSAOtnygGvIwdOoeIw7S0tm9jWBfoy46iowCnpN4HjJSVwlB2YDK_vy3uqQ/s400/IMG_0255.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I promise they both had their own beds! We took one out for showing so it didn't look so cluttered.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzFBEaKcWHm4t7fytE679pBkWQvY9jt267Adpn-nFFhOxHHN8UyeFNZIq7mliZBJTsPOX8jvsxWtErAuvLexPYrNDrcoqRgoG_X7JIx4eD0MebYeNC4Fattntng8SN6f-sFx11ce65TA/s1600/IMG_0257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzFBEaKcWHm4t7fytE679pBkWQvY9jt267Adpn-nFFhOxHHN8UyeFNZIq7mliZBJTsPOX8jvsxWtErAuvLexPYrNDrcoqRgoG_X7JIx4eD0MebYeNC4Fattntng8SN6f-sFx11ce65TA/s400/IMG_0257.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I did take BEFORE pics the master bedroom. Not bad to begin with:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfm1u2S9fDkXnFonH7Zc_4TJAA4zMq_S6WT9gsxbI2ybwmu6BnATxunqIap13A4_a7xXemXOWlEOOCepPCZ0I-NVVVRBJFTDl-S6_sG7bK9F__E802exIe698DWZv1pZzekYvND-lzdY/s1600/photo-56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfm1u2S9fDkXnFonH7Zc_4TJAA4zMq_S6WT9gsxbI2ybwmu6BnATxunqIap13A4_a7xXemXOWlEOOCepPCZ0I-NVVVRBJFTDl-S6_sG7bK9F__E802exIe698DWZv1pZzekYvND-lzdY/s400/photo-56.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mbTAInYqrweXkUPoTFzVKCeDghMCz8b3r_9zCkHhCl3hcfpgwPiufFSndZbrrkEGMQj9t03wMHriOcOxX4m0sWpIlaUwIlrIXbQoBaht01YPUz5SrD2gO4-ZQwpPlaCQDTikj3DdQ1c/s1600/photo-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mbTAInYqrweXkUPoTFzVKCeDghMCz8b3r_9zCkHhCl3hcfpgwPiufFSndZbrrkEGMQj9t03wMHriOcOxX4m0sWpIlaUwIlrIXbQoBaht01YPUz5SrD2gO4-ZQwpPlaCQDTikj3DdQ1c/s400/photo-57.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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After paint and staining the floors, this is the AFTER:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWP8HdDd0xtcKdmQpKuZSXTB1O_X3w1wBXRT5xjbc67lxN_WjYnn8V9qKnQ6Jyf_mJn-vd_YecfmkMegmY2zK79ZgQxWM_4q0CMaXvMoCtw1IpSxw_TjiRKvh2y5vuqukPdAifAi-CCQ/s1600/IMG_0280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWP8HdDd0xtcKdmQpKuZSXTB1O_X3w1wBXRT5xjbc67lxN_WjYnn8V9qKnQ6Jyf_mJn-vd_YecfmkMegmY2zK79ZgQxWM_4q0CMaXvMoCtw1IpSxw_TjiRKvh2y5vuqukPdAifAi-CCQ/s400/IMG_0280.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUihrCyOM3-9KanY7Zxn1vgf1qUdW-Zg-ZBWdNCcOtpk1AXIJUweGOCUA_F2p2_mtJiRIctITpdzJsIzPZGGlrp6B6QIG9KD8KB45zG4AAnDG5KfYxRX5KRbpTcJ4bXLPBYFZ1-2GnvQ/s1600/IMG_0282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUihrCyOM3-9KanY7Zxn1vgf1qUdW-Zg-ZBWdNCcOtpk1AXIJUweGOCUA_F2p2_mtJiRIctITpdzJsIzPZGGlrp6B6QIG9KD8KB45zG4AAnDG5KfYxRX5KRbpTcJ4bXLPBYFZ1-2GnvQ/s400/IMG_0282.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And the last room upstairs...the master bath. BEFORE:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjj4pQs8_EYNEnWN5Uzzxu8RvBz7IcmKVn6O_lqK-ST3vSIw9m8iZfzsj8BjBuiL-kxcCWsXjYdh26Z54OLlroScxiF8JVD6Gu7h9SSFy-rzTu-rDe9Y68d_6O_k94isBaef9hHJGmmE/s1600/photo-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjj4pQs8_EYNEnWN5Uzzxu8RvBz7IcmKVn6O_lqK-ST3vSIw9m8iZfzsj8BjBuiL-kxcCWsXjYdh26Z54OLlroScxiF8JVD6Gu7h9SSFy-rzTu-rDe9Y68d_6O_k94isBaef9hHJGmmE/s400/photo-55.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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This was mid-project, I remembered to snap a pic. You can see the same green counter tops that were also in the main floor bathroom.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwEbNbw4t5vrkoWXdSCmOxXnCLSzntN6Yc6906ZpiL4OsiOjXxFs2QgRCuMuAaSSBxpSKe0luCmUWYSHOrtFR8t-8CUn45s5uFVDNTnvi0SGWJautt5ML-nlfeXzajNekRb4Y9zGDOiE/s1600/IMG_9559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwEbNbw4t5vrkoWXdSCmOxXnCLSzntN6Yc6906ZpiL4OsiOjXxFs2QgRCuMuAaSSBxpSKe0luCmUWYSHOrtFR8t-8CUn45s5uFVDNTnvi0SGWJautt5ML-nlfeXzajNekRb4Y9zGDOiE/s400/IMG_9559.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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And the AFTER. If we had lived here longer, it would have been much more dramatic, but we just painted the countertops and cabinets and added a tile border on the mirror. Made a big difference though.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTsB2z9z-IUNxIH3rKi7UQgeKCX8gJ_ZMGB9ecDFIzJzpXa1F-J6oSPVr6MuFrTd23JnnJJgW0QFbfx8A1JTt1FBOvLrvFTxwc9_wyq3qwNpFBcPzrm46KfEOc7rmkWgjrHUgUklSR4I/s1600/IMG_0279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTsB2z9z-IUNxIH3rKi7UQgeKCX8gJ_ZMGB9ecDFIzJzpXa1F-J6oSPVr6MuFrTd23JnnJJgW0QFbfx8A1JTt1FBOvLrvFTxwc9_wyq3qwNpFBcPzrm46KfEOc7rmkWgjrHUgUklSR4I/s320/IMG_0279.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And finally...the basement. When I bought the house, the basement was completely unfinished. To my blessing, a group of amazing men traveled from Indiana after raising money to refinish my basement and transformed the space...</div>
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This is walking down the stairs....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuaSzDab8eSKvrJC-48TKyuCOEseTrcq7cvseUlz8WK5XJoNQ4472ES2rk4vLzn7qdaV4NLSORPecmPVU39H1x9dxvK3N3PQl-L9q5vERi2zOojkrkCRq5CfcauZJBWXoWJRJV-b8q0w/s1600/IMG_0298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuaSzDab8eSKvrJC-48TKyuCOEseTrcq7cvseUlz8WK5XJoNQ4472ES2rk4vLzn7qdaV4NLSORPecmPVU39H1x9dxvK3N3PQl-L9q5vERi2zOojkrkCRq5CfcauZJBWXoWJRJV-b8q0w/s400/IMG_0298.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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A living space and craft area. We never got to completely finish this space, but it sure came a long way!</div>
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What you can't see in this next picture is to the left is the utility room, closet space under the stairs, and a bathroom we never got to finish. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqKR8qKg1UjaW3QNslgYzm0BxQOG4lRygF0nKTX6nCwZ4bXsip5vJJKDp_U5VXmharqcu6QpOHB67J-Z54AtqhJqAg12nwaLmq_YveHJATe3xjAOcXrrrhBhXALh2WBnw5Vu5NtCajgM/s1600/IMG_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqKR8qKg1UjaW3QNslgYzm0BxQOG4lRygF0nKTX6nCwZ4bXsip5vJJKDp_U5VXmharqcu6QpOHB67J-Z54AtqhJqAg12nwaLmq_YveHJATe3xjAOcXrrrhBhXALh2WBnw5Vu5NtCajgM/s400/IMG_0299.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I never got to get it 100% to where I wanted it to be...but who ever does?! In just over 2 years, I came pretty close, and I can't believe how much we were able to do. God is Good. I will forever treasured this home in my heart as the place I started over, the place Steve and I became a family, the place that Jeremy blessed with his approval and presence, and the place I really started to figure out who I was. </div>
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Next, I will give you the tour of our new home in West Virginia. Stay tuned...</div>
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<br />Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-23518038007983738662013-09-18T23:01:00.001-04:002013-09-18T23:01:14.231-04:00A picture is worth...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgwuOgybZx5Ixxl8UrLjoa-SCaoCyj6eduH91h36aBiM6YnOGjtDxzuDbQvxEvOx4jKXZMSgQWsxKGqviTpHIFenjhFKQII02SZg2rWDSS8o9815h_aE_atpXLR7umoZRxLO_DKSRXv5b/s1600/Pictures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgwuOgybZx5Ixxl8UrLjoa-SCaoCyj6eduH91h36aBiM6YnOGjtDxzuDbQvxEvOx4jKXZMSgQWsxKGqviTpHIFenjhFKQII02SZg2rWDSS8o9815h_aE_atpXLR7umoZRxLO_DKSRXv5b/s400/Pictures.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://onemomsbattle.com/">source</a></td></tr>
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...1000 words.</div>
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Or, so they say. Whoever 'they' is.</div>
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But, I think a picture is worth so much more than that. </div>
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A picture doesn't just convey an endless amount of words, but it can also capture an emotion that no words can describe. </div>
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It can preserve a memory that might otherwise have been forgotten. </div>
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It can make you laugh or cry just at the very sight of it. </div>
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And for us here, a picture is priceless - something that can't be duplicated or repeated. </div>
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It's tangible proof of the intangible. </div>
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This ironic thing happened when Jeremy died. I stopped taking pictures. Just when I lost everything most precious and was seeking whatever I could find in the few pictures I took....and always looking for more - for something I missed - I couldn't seem to take pictures for myself. </div>
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For one, I looked like hell and didn't want to be in any picture.</div>
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I didn't want to fake a smile. </div>
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I didn't want to pretend. </div>
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But it was also just too painful. </div>
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It hurt to capture my beautiful children's faces without their daddy there to ever see it. </div>
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It hurt to take pictures of friends continuing to live life seemingly unaffected by the world flipping upside down. </div>
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It hurt to see life moving forward and I wanted no part in it. </div>
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Eventually, my yearning to capture life's moments came back to me. After my brother died, I searched for as many pictures as I could find and felt so much heartache that I didn't have more of us together. The day of his funeral, after our family got together for the evening, I decided to take pictures with the people I loved. Now, whenever we all get together, I quickly stand next to each of them and snap a picture. I started to hurt when I had no pictures of my friends anymore and they were all taking pictures together without me. So now I try to make sure I take the pictures that I don't want to forget. I'm now the mom who is constantly stopping my kids for pictures....it's gotten to the point now where I hear "Mom, take a picture of me doing this!" on a regular basis. And I'm pretty sure at this point, I have more pictures of Steve and I together over the last 20 months together than I have of mine and Jer's 8 years together. Because I've learned the hard way how precious those can be.</div>
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I find myself often looking back at pictures... </div>
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My old profile pictures on Facebook. </div>
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The pictures on my iPhoto library. </div>
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My instagram photos.</div>
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The pictures tagged on Jeremy's wall. </div>
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It can be painful sometimes, but I am always drawn to recreate those moments in my heart and my mind. </div>
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To remember. </div>
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To somehow capture as many pieces as I can before it's too late.</div>
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Because someday, they might be all I have left.</div>
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"If you want to know what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph."</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-18432355976328345732013-09-05T00:09:00.000-04:002013-09-05T00:09:40.624-04:00An unexpected surprise<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksvyL_497puMXBU-0-LI-9uorbaHSdiobVNpRhP39AyAruNMORGbuBtNFQdDq1rngH77q_Lxu8k8gSGGU32uT4NQwzKH2LSx4Mm7Ta2_WLUSqHaBwe00wBSxTHwgy4dqvaKGD88PEtVtI/s1600/west+virginia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksvyL_497puMXBU-0-LI-9uorbaHSdiobVNpRhP39AyAruNMORGbuBtNFQdDq1rngH77q_Lxu8k8gSGGU32uT4NQwzKH2LSx4Mm7Ta2_WLUSqHaBwe00wBSxTHwgy4dqvaKGD88PEtVtI/s400/west+virginia.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">My new morning view</td></tr>
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We are settling into our new home here in West Virginia. It's a strange experience to live your entire life in one region and then move somewhere completely different in your thirties....but, I feel called here, and our family is loving it so far. And I've got lots to keep me busy!</div>
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One day last week, I decided to take a drive around and see the area a little bit more and try to figure out where things were and get acquainted with the place. I pulled up to the mall a few miles away and walked into one of the side entrances. As soon as I walked in, I had suddenly remembered being there before, almost 3 years ago, exactly two weeks after Jeremy had died....I came to lead worship in the area cause he and I were supposed to do it together and I decided to do it in his place and still go. With my sweet friends, we took an evening to walk around the mall and hang out. I was shocked that I even remembered that in the whirlwind of my aftermath and widow brain.</div>
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I continued walking through the mall and felt Jeremy's presence very strongly. I couldn't figure out why until I turned the corner into the food court. There, I saw him, sitting at one of the tables with Faith next to him as a baby......and it hit me.</div>
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I have been here before. With Jeremy.</div>
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My heart nearly leaped as it jumpstarted a memory I didn't even realize I had. What a beautiful surprise it was to remember coming here, 7 years ago, traveling with Jeremy to Ohio Valley University just up the road, and stopping here for lunch at the food court I now stood in. I remembered us driving across the street to pick up a stroller for Faith because we didn't realize how badly we would need one on the trip. That same stroller is sitting in my garage now three miles down the road.</div>
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It all came back to me and it was like Jer audibly whispered in my head "I'm here too." One of the hardest parts for me about moving was leaving Jeremy behind. I talked about it a few weeks ago, but still struggled with picking up and moving somewhere Jer would never be a part of. Somewhere I thought I couldn't reach him. I fought tears for a few hours just thinking about how random, ironic, and special it was to know that I had shared a memory in a place I didn't even realize I had been before. Jeremy's presence was found hundreds of miles away from home.</div>
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This forgotten memory will now be one of my most cherished moments.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-51648313770617696102013-08-21T23:44:00.002-04:002013-08-21T23:44:41.052-04:0026<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span id="goog_504557219"></span><span id="goog_504557220"></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhLWPjQubqWrKIZoxs35OLT2yTSXFjhm864Q-Z1wSuLhLIzeuyd4ZMqqipj_MLSai2eG9o6Ur-bu5kP9FZDvLQcQ5QqhIC95Q8uwiseVvVqXlmv-ed3REKTJXVe8-7U914YuHkKR1osHT/s1600/IMG_1054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhLWPjQubqWrKIZoxs35OLT2yTSXFjhm864Q-Z1wSuLhLIzeuyd4ZMqqipj_MLSai2eG9o6Ur-bu5kP9FZDvLQcQ5QqhIC95Q8uwiseVvVqXlmv-ed3REKTJXVe8-7U914YuHkKR1osHT/s320/IMG_1054.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This Saturday, I will be 26 weeks along. The last time I was 26 weeks pregnant (to the day), my husband dropped dead.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Oddly enough, for all the anxiety I had about becoming pregnant, it's been relatively normal and hasn't caused me too much grief. Until I hit the half way mark. Ever since, my brain audibly tells me with each passing Saturday, "only so many more weeks until you're 26 weeks." I am keenly aware that its coming up and I've sat awake a few times now with tears remembering.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Perhaps it will pass like my grief milestones did, where the anticipation is more painful than the day itself. Perhaps I will spend the entire day making sure Steve doesn't drop dead on me. Perhaps I will be a little neurotic and even just spend the day grieving an experience I never imagined I'd be going through again. Perhaps I can fill the day with enough distractions to help me forget. Ok, we all know that wont happen.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I fear that if this milestone can bring me this much anxiety, than the anticipation for birth may just send me over the edge. The two moments nothing in this world can reconcile with my heart: the day my love died and the day I had his baby without him. Only love could have made me volunteer to face the potential for déjà vu.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's a good thing love conquers death.</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-49884304233918669852013-08-07T22:31:00.000-04:002013-08-07T22:31:14.541-04:00Home Sweet Home<br />
I promise I'm still here! I apologize for the long overdue post. I wrote this for tomorrow's post on Widow's Voice, but I thought I'd share here to fill in a few people. I will be back soon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRnWMJSp6vyDFywES51m-U2G3HvMcaQnJZzJ2v_QAeLvvBoL4-mfJfHzrW_Ss89t4FxTyQwtKDDg8cA_kbZWxkBeGEOV0eErQlzB2XPv_HSEpSLjVfsPj5AyLPbCAS1qD_vTNGU6h4Wij/s1600/home+sweet+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRnWMJSp6vyDFywES51m-U2G3HvMcaQnJZzJ2v_QAeLvvBoL4-mfJfHzrW_Ss89t4FxTyQwtKDDg8cA_kbZWxkBeGEOV0eErQlzB2XPv_HSEpSLjVfsPj5AyLPbCAS1qD_vTNGU6h4Wij/s400/home+sweet+home.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://bukujoter.blogspot.com/">source</a></td></tr>
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Well, things around here never seem to quite slow down. And lately, in particular, they've sped up into super speed! Steve accepted a new job position in Parkersburg, West Virginia. Oh, and we move next week! We are taking a ride on the crazy train and loving every minute of it. Well....almost every minute. </div>
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While I am thrilled for this new opportunity for our family and ready to start fresh together somewhere, I will be honest and say that initially, I was not ok with moving so far away. There are a lot of different things that factor into that, but one of the reasons is certainly because this place is home to me. I've lived in Michigan my entire life and this area in particular is where I went to college, it's where my children were born, it's where I've worked, it's where my friends are, it's where I discovered who I am.....it's where Jeremy is.</div>
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This is where he was and always will be. There will be no more moving for him. This place will always be associated with him. His memorial stone is here, his job and church is here, his friends are still here. And leaving this place sometimes feels a lot like leaving him. </div>
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I will say that I've been through enough transition over the past few years that I know this is not the case. I won't be leaving him behind. I will carry him with me wherever I go. It will be difficult to make new memories in a place where Jer will never step foot and to make new friends that will never know of my life "before" but I know I could never completely leave this place behind. I will be back often. </div>
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I have found so much peace about moving since that initial idea hit me...I don't know where it came from. I'd like to think some of it is Jeremy's blessing to keep moving forward with a life he always wanted for me. Either way, I am jumping into the great unknown leaving a piece of my heart here in this place, but looking forward to filling more spaces in my heart with new experiences and new people. </div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-70945723417800182142013-06-26T23:36:00.000-04:002013-06-26T23:36:12.911-04:00Frozen<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9iou8cRq6ZqDLsuy3RRWsvDP4t9DM5XcAi0B_4yx82m7T67O80m5U8_exV-fOEHAJfWN1hDtmZGgCsz-XvHj1Ej3bWgKbf7kjyDYAG6uihhfEiz7c_ri12IfsexCnASXgQ7qxrOhtwWhX/s1600/frozen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9iou8cRq6ZqDLsuy3RRWsvDP4t9DM5XcAi0B_4yx82m7T67O80m5U8_exV-fOEHAJfWN1hDtmZGgCsz-XvHj1Ej3bWgKbf7kjyDYAG6uihhfEiz7c_ri12IfsexCnASXgQ7qxrOhtwWhX/s400/frozen.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=frozen+in+time&source=images&cd=&docid=6b1UOV1Hi49qTM&tbnid=TFAm6IjXZESHKM:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkateey.deviantart.com%2Fart%2FFrozen-In-Time-179779967&ei=JrLLUdWhK8jayAGF5ICQAg&bvm=bv.48340889,d.aWc&psig=AFQjCNEy4yurkhkIVpx-Fux3bP9IjKUgxQ&ust=1372390124083609">source</a></div>
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Since he's been gone,</div>
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So much has changed.</div>
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Sometimes I can't believe how much he's missed, and how much has changed since he was here last. Our favorite artists have come out with multiple albums he's missed, his favorite sports teams writing more history, buildings he'll never see, restaurants he'll never try. I could go on and on to the point where it sickens me. Will there come a time where the world as Jeremy knew it won't exist anymore?</div>
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Perhaps.</div>
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But, there are some things that I cannot bring myself to change....or touch, or alter. Things are just his. It struck me last week that there are still quite a few things that haven't changed since he left.</div>
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The 4 digit code I create whenever I need one - it's still the one he created.</div>
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The tons of awful music on our itunes that I'll never listen to but can't seem to get rid of because he put it there.</div>
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The background picture on his old ipod that my son uses...I can't seem to change it because I know Jeremy set it.</div>
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His bible I still carry in my purse with a set list scribbled on a paper and used as a bookmark that I can't seem to move.</div>
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His way-past-its-prime old pillow that sits in my closet that clearly needs to be thrown away, but I can't move it.</div>
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There are just some things that I cannot bring myself to alter or change because it feels like I'm erasing the few tangible things left that Jeremy touched. It's always surreal to sit and look at his handwriting and know that at some point, he was here - living and breathing - and writing down those words. So insignificant and now suddenly one of the few things I have to hold on to, and it means everything to me.</div>
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Life will continue to change, no matter how I feel about it. It won't freeze to where Jeremy left it. But there are some pieces of him, frozen in time, that I hold on to for dear life in hopes that the world won't alter so much without him in it.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-21842625316657329452013-05-30T08:51:00.002-04:002013-05-30T08:51:30.699-04:00grief is everywhere<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4R87Uq5kmuESU5wN7z2ss58MY_BmMoSYpR0qd4dvluhZTJ8i694tfdcodatnvarGpQgniyyysJZD5Z0uXMH2APTu18tb42SF846nspsm6AYE7j7fw2X0eAhdEodkxCwrmn7JfJuXJBHlt/s1600/grief.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4R87Uq5kmuESU5wN7z2ss58MY_BmMoSYpR0qd4dvluhZTJ8i694tfdcodatnvarGpQgniyyysJZD5Z0uXMH2APTu18tb42SF846nspsm6AYE7j7fw2X0eAhdEodkxCwrmn7JfJuXJBHlt/s400/grief.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.believehopedream.com/">source</a></td></tr>
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Today marks 6 months since my sweet friend Amy lost her husband, Jim. </div>
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I've thought about her constantly over the last few weeks, mostly cause my heart ached remembering what the 6 month mark felt like for me. Probably the darkest place of my life.</div>
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This past weekend for the holiday, we did our annual trip with my parents to Kentucky for a family reunion, then stopped at King's Island on our way home. This was one of the few trips in my adult life that I got to take with my brother, Brian. The trip just isn't the same without him there, and I ached for his son who came with us, because I know how much he misses his dad. And even though it wasn't a conversation we had out loud, I ached for my parents and the grief I know they still struggle with. Since we didn't go last year, this was the first time back since he died.</div>
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Grief has been present this week, but oddly enough, the majority of it wasn't my own. It made me recognize that grief really is everywhere. And even though in theory we all know this, when I really step back and take it all in, it can be overwhelming and humbling. I wasn't able to see anyone's grief but my own. Now, it feels like I absorb others. </div>
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My friends. </div>
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My parents. </div>
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The devastated families in Oklahoma. </div>
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My nephew. </div>
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My children. </div>
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People on the news I don't even know.</div>
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I am not the only one on this journey of grief - which is oddly comforting to know, but awful to understand. </div>
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"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-59177338538699553662013-05-11T21:28:00.000-04:002013-05-11T21:28:06.206-04:00and baby makes EIGHT!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWg8NzhDTFnvPPBCs1oL8kqJRpVXPLChGcxfKGOAiUgs-XNknt_8O5tDRTyQ7Uq_A0sxGPONfG9Aw14fEs3p4jborYoI4mSNNtNk3f2NDJ1W2gLQBvMlhoBC567eZbpn_RcvXpz7cY4A/s1600/little+poppy+8wks5days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWg8NzhDTFnvPPBCs1oL8kqJRpVXPLChGcxfKGOAiUgs-XNknt_8O5tDRTyQ7Uq_A0sxGPONfG9Aw14fEs3p4jborYoI4mSNNtNk3f2NDJ1W2gLQBvMlhoBC567eZbpn_RcvXpz7cY4A/s400/little+poppy+8wks5days.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little poppy - officially due November 30th!</td></tr>
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It's been several weeks now since Steve and I announced that we were pregnant with baby #6. I've been wanting to sit down and write ever since then and for some reason (plus 5 other reasons), I haven't been able to.<br />
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Lemme start by addressing the very rude comment I received after we posted the video:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">"we don’t love the idea of having 6 kids"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">If you cannot financially afford another child, please do not do so! Seriously, I do not want to pay for your baby. Just because you can, doesn't mean you shouldnt. It won't fix things. Filthy.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">I hope things work out for you :)</span></span></blockquote>
First of all, I love the smiley face at the end...like it's supposed to undo the hurtfulness that proceeds it. I also love how this person who continually writes ridiculous comments (most of which I delete) can never quite figure out their grammar or how to spell properly. When we addressed having kids in our Q&A last year (you can read it <a href="http://veronking2003.blogspot.com/2012/07/q-part-3-family-questions.html">HERE</a>), we were both on the same page about not being ready to have more kids. But before I go into detail about how that all changed, I would like to point out that our decision has nothing to do with finances, and I'm not exactly sure how anyone thinks they are paying for OUR children! Our decision to have a baby was not to 'fix' anything, but rather to celebrate our family and our relationship. It was not a decision made it haste, but one that came through a lot of prayer and discernment. If you also read in that answer, I talked about someday wanting to adopt, so adding another person to the household was never really off the table. If you don't want to live at my house with six kids...well, you're not invited anyway, but you certainly don't have to! You make your own decisions and I won't judge and how about you offer that same grace to others, ok?<br />
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I won't continue to waste any more breath on that comment. The only reason I even published it was because I know others (who are much less rude) were also curious as to how we came to a place of not wanting more children to embracing the idea of one more. Now that is a topic I am happy to talk about.<br />
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Ever since last year, Steve has always mentioned the idea of having another baby. I chalked it up to the fact that he LOVES babies and always wants to be holding one (sometimes he borrows friends' babies at church just to hold them), or the fact that we are both curious what it would be like to have a child together. We love our children and we think they've blended really well together, but we always talk about redeeming my last pregnancy and giving Steve the opportunity to experience the pregnancy of his child the way a father and husband is supposed to, since he really missed out on a lot of that before. But again, I continued thinking this was playful banter.<br />
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But then Super Bowl Sunday brought us to a friend's house to hang out, and another couple from church brought their brand new baby girl along with them. I kid you not, Steve held that baby at least half the time we were there, maybe more. And it suddenly dawned on me that maybe Steve really would love to have another baby. The drive home really felt like Deja vu....so much like the drive home from Canada when Jeremy and I talked about having baby #3. I cried, I prayed, and I had to open up my heart to the possibility of having another baby. Because it was a door I never really opened, I had some grieving to do. Grieving for the fact that I might have a child that would not be associated with Jeremy, and grieving again the loss of experiencing this journey without him. But as Steve and I talked and prayed through everything, my heart leaped at the exciting possibility of creating life with him and walking through this journey with him, and with our kids....who at this point, had been begging us to have more kids!<br />
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I won't lie - I am scared to death of being pregnant. I am terrified to reliving the past and losing everything. But I know I cannot let fear captivate me and keep me from living life to the fullest. I told Steve as long as he could be patient with me and handle my PTSD, I was willing to venture into this very scary unknown. After I found out I was indeed pregnant (btw, once we decided to go for it, I was pregnant within 2 days...CRAZY!) I couldn't sleep for a few days. I get anxious when Steve is away from home and I don't hear from him for awhile. I worry that once I hit the 6 month mark, I may be a hot mess. But then again, maybe not. Watching Steve get excited, and watching our children get excited has eased so much anxiety for me....and it's contagious. I AM GOING TO HAVE A BABY - this is good news no matter what kind of package it comes in!<br />
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We are thrilled to bring our family together in a solid way that no one can take away from us. We are honored that God has given us the privilege to once again care for another one of His children. Our kids could not be more excited...they kiss my belly on their way to school (yes, even the oldest!), they ask me constant questions about how I'm feeling, how little poppy (the baby's nickname) is doing, praying for us both every night...it really is the sweetest thing.<br />
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I really couldn't think of a better Mother's day gift this year than to know the love I receive will be getting multiplied by one more beautiful miracle this year!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a><br />
<br />Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-46053091592211306142013-05-08T21:37:00.002-04:002013-05-08T21:37:46.822-04:00When two worlds collide<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPR0RqsdYX8FhMx5QdPce3kTtPLYzXiFLkzyTMVGDO9OC2KFOuLP-blxBGSOAy3kiAjrNp76r9iQrBpiHGRM6LhQ3Qf9atEl3z2hHAg068wLY6qb2UH7Gh40wClN3r1Xpboj0ex3npjCV/s1600/Worlds+Collide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPR0RqsdYX8FhMx5QdPce3kTtPLYzXiFLkzyTMVGDO9OC2KFOuLP-blxBGSOAy3kiAjrNp76r9iQrBpiHGRM6LhQ3Qf9atEl3z2hHAg068wLY6qb2UH7Gh40wClN3r1Xpboj0ex3npjCV/s400/Worlds+Collide.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://craigportwood.blogspot.com/">source</a></div>
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So much of my life has changed since Jeremy died.</div>
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I live in a different house, a different city.</div>
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I drive different vehicles.</div>
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I shop at new stores that weren't around just three years ago.</div>
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I have super long hair, which Jeremy has never really seen.</div>
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I have some new, amazing friends.</div>
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I've lost some friends. Heck, I've been lifted out of some of my own support groups.</div>
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I have new family.</div>
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I got re-married.</div>
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I am a different parent than I used to be.</div>
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I've had new experiences that have changed me.</div>
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For crying out loud, I have more of Jeremy's children now than I did when he was here!</div>
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It's safe to say that things look very different. But what I find so frustrating and yet so odd is how much I hate that he is missing the very things that are only in place because of his death. Experiences that I was only able to have because Jeremy died, I ache for him to see it, to talk to him about it, to celebrate/laugh/cry with him about it. Only, my two worlds will never collide. The irony is not lost on me.</div>
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Somewhere, in a land created of 'what-ifs', there's a place where I get to talk to Jeremy about Steve, where I get to see his reaction to a new song that came out, where he smiles and celebrates the milestones in my life I only get to have in light of losing everything. The opportunities that were created out of his loss are the very things I want him to witness. I would never have been able to move to this home if Jer were still alive. And yet, it feels like he's missing here. I would never be able to claim Zada and Reagan as my beautiful daughters if he were alive, but I want so badly for them to know each other, for him to love them like I do.</div>
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I try not to venture into the land of 'what-ifs' very often, cause it generally just leaves me exhausted and unsatisfied. But every once in awhile....</div>
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....I would just love to see my two worlds collide.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-31977823715675318082013-05-01T22:01:00.000-04:002013-05-01T22:01:24.486-04:00somehow<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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No matter how many times I've come to expect it, grief still manages to catch me off guard somehow.</div>
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Last week, I watched my 2 year old get the biggest kick out of a whoopie cushion at Mamaw & Papaw's house. He was jumping up and down on it, literally laughing himself silly. When you watch a toddler laugh like that, it's impossible not to join along. And then suddenly, like a flash of lightning, my laughing came to a halt as I choked down tears. 4 days before Jeremy died, he had bought the kids a whoopie cushion and took a small video of each of them on his phone to capture how hilarious they thought it was. And realizing that Carter never got to be a part of that or never will be a part of that overcame me. I almost had to get up and leave the room.</div>
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I read about how well the Toronto Maple Leafs were doing this season, and I ache. Not because I care about hockey much, but because Jer waited his whole life to see this day, and now is missing it, and it somehow makes ME emotional. My mother posts a picture on Facebook of my son looking exactly like his daddy and it tears me up inside. I see my daughter finally start to outgrow the shirt that her daddy bought her, and it's too much to know so much time has gone by and she's grown so much without him. I still can't sing his favorite songs at church, because it hurts (not to mention, sung at his funeral and my brother's funeral) and the words cut through me like glass.</div>
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No matter how much time goes by, no matter how content I am with my life now, grief always finds a place. I know this, and yet still get mad at myself for not anticipating it better. Darn you sneaky grief, I'll figure you out somehow.</div>
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Oh wait, grief doesn't really work that way. Dang it. Guess I'm along for the long haul.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-30718052583394982272013-04-18T00:15:00.000-04:002013-04-18T00:15:44.883-04:00Tragedy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72K_WwMbEhlRaPrnbmnTu-BHRnNyOFfSjIrf1iwaPAk20fwzxFpvUcY0Abdwi48HYV_H6pDkw3BAnI1xVS2EMlxDmLlocEjD8U2UXLX0V-m26ywfwtLGJQReoOdkAgKINAb6_pWFDd0fF/s1600/0417-Boston-Marathon-tragedy-aftermath-security_full_600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72K_WwMbEhlRaPrnbmnTu-BHRnNyOFfSjIrf1iwaPAk20fwzxFpvUcY0Abdwi48HYV_H6pDkw3BAnI1xVS2EMlxDmLlocEjD8U2UXLX0V-m26ywfwtLGJQReoOdkAgKINAb6_pWFDd0fF/s400/0417-Boston-Marathon-tragedy-aftermath-security_full_600.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.csmonitor.com/">source</a></div>
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Tragedy has been close to my heart this week.</div>
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Monday, as I watched the horror unfold during the Boston marathon, I was once again in awe of how quickly life can go so wrong. How swiftly and senselessly life can end.</div>
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My two year old happened to be sitting next to me while I watched some coverage on Hulu, and he would not stop asking questions. "What happened Mommy?" He wanted me to talk him through every scene. Then he asked to watch it four more times - he wanted to watch "the boy hurting show." He kept repeating "people got hurt," or "dat's sad," or "dat's a big boom."</div>
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I was a little disturbed that my toddler was so fascinated with this footage of people suffering. And just when I thought perhaps I had a twisted mind on my hands, I watched a lightbulb go off in his head.</div>
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<i>"Daddy died Momma. Dat's sad."</i></div>
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Ah, there it is. For his entire life, I've tried to explain who Daddy is and where he is and what happened in the simplest of terms for my sweet boy who never got to meet him face to face. But it was like he understood suddenly in his own way what tragedy was and how devastating it is.</div>
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Since then, he's been talking about Daddy a lot. Trying to sort things out, I think. Asking to read his picture book of Daddy, and reminding me after every page turn that Daddy died. It can be gut wrenching to watch his small mind put things together.</div>
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It can be hard to constantly be reminded of grief. Sure, it follows me around every single day in different ways, but to overtly bring it to my face and deal with it over and over can get overwhelming.</div>
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As Camp Widow East sets to gear up tomorrow, I can't help but have grief in my face again. But as heavy as it can be, I welcome it. I welcome the reminder that I was well loved the pain that still follows me is not just a figment of my imagination. I welcome the opportunity to search my heart deeper for healing, to open myself up to others who are walking this same unintended path. To share my story in hopes that someone out there might have a different lightbulb go off: a lightbulb of hope.</div>
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I think some worry that being in an environment surrounded by other widow/widowers somehow "exposes" you to grief you don't necessarily want to share. It reminds you of what a dark world we can live in and perhaps dwelling in that atmosphere seems overwhelming.</div>
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But on the contrary, when we ban together to share our hearts and our stories, a little piece of light gets let back in. Yes, the world can be a tough place, but we all know that first hand. But when we break down the walls we've each put up by connecting with others who 'get it', suddenly we see there can be more to life than just merely existing. There can be more to life than just tragedy.</div>
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That's the light I keep coming back for more of.</div>
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Looking forward to meeting some of you this weekend.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-55378487732539600612013-04-11T00:32:00.000-04:002013-04-11T00:32:09.494-04:00A crazy new twist...(dun dun DUN)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wanted to take the opportunity to post this video here. It's pretty awesome, if I do say so myself :)</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwEmKQVFk6onFL6vpLY8e12Hswf9NEAJriQdTs6kEnERPTFUrEnAnIbqpYi7T1Vxmhu_YaSbyUzDm1PQdZQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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More to come in the near future about this crazy and beautiful new twist in our journey....stay tuned! :)</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-74508117115322922462013-04-04T01:16:00.000-04:002013-04-04T01:16:22.963-04:00masterpiece in the making<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRm5kZaGiIpIbt608PsiAKnv3lDyFfxX_R-0kcPVRFBv2cxh9iKsOtK52zWWHfLhCF0AK_gB6Ykoj4-OVX9lE6bnkDKcDaDGTpk3pbKG1mTMT7v2EJ5dDZ1xWGk77vf1-6rZ7Ox2E_O2n/s1600/mosaic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRm5kZaGiIpIbt608PsiAKnv3lDyFfxX_R-0kcPVRFBv2cxh9iKsOtK52zWWHfLhCF0AK_gB6Ykoj4-OVX9lE6bnkDKcDaDGTpk3pbKG1mTMT7v2EJ5dDZ1xWGk77vf1-6rZ7Ox2E_O2n/s400/mosaic.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="398" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.dignanmosaics.com/">source</a></div>
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As I was contemplating what to write tonight, I was reading through some old posts of mine. Wow. It's amazing how I've suppressed some of those things, cause when I read it over again, the pain of loss becomes so real and close.</div>
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What I've noticed is that I have regularly referred to a mosaic as a metaphor for my grief. I don't remember exactly what attached me to that imagery, but it fit so well that I held on to it. I always thought I'd write a song about it: a beautiful, priceless piece that one day shatters on the floor into a million pieces. Rendered useless and no longer valuable. Until someone picks up the pieces of broken glass and uses it to put together a beautiful mosaic, creating a new masterpiece. Perhaps not what the glass was intended for, and certainly not without pain, but beauty was still created. Someday, perhaps it would make a great song.</div>
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That's how I've felt along the way. All those broken pieces of my life I had no idea what to do with, they seemed useless to me without Jeremy walking beside me. I felt so lost, so hopeless. But when I look back and read all those devastating blog posts, and feels the tears rushing back to me, I realized that each one was marking another broken piece that was being put into place for another masterpiece. I had no idea what was being created, and I still don't, but I am able now to look back and see that something beautiful can still be created with all the broken pieces of me.</div>
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I am nowhere near done picking up all the broken pieces off the floor. But, each breath I take without Jeremy reminds me that I have a lot of work left to do to make him proud. A lot of lessons still to learn. A lot of sharp pieces of glass that still need to be smoothed and put into its place. But I not even close to done. I am a masterpiece in the making.</div>
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Don't forget.....</div>
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So are you.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-72132575794864585422013-03-28T00:52:00.001-04:002013-03-28T00:52:50.997-04:00Seasons of grief<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipr1tn8t5y3NT-CjaelUkbOznsTEinVt6_lsJI30I4Fh3Q5Yakt9KhsUvNU9VqBGp0_biWeZxrqkMM1ov4by0j-TtObX-dp7DO4OkyrRa8kMpSNutHz7zq7Rv0I47m5XaNcdCGOJr41YE/s1600/Seasons.by.TheLizardQueen300x385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipr1tn8t5y3NT-CjaelUkbOznsTEinVt6_lsJI30I4Fh3Q5Yakt9KhsUvNU9VqBGp0_biWeZxrqkMM1ov4by0j-TtObX-dp7DO4OkyrRa8kMpSNutHz7zq7Rv0I47m5XaNcdCGOJr41YE/s400/Seasons.by.TheLizardQueen300x385.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.connect.legacy.com/">source</a></td></tr>
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I laid in bed the other night, eyes brimming with tears, threatening to overtake me at just the thought of Jeremy's smile or to hear him laugh just one more time. Ultimately, I couldn't shake it and balled at the overflowing grief that seemed so prevalent.<br />
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It's weird that lately, my ache for his personality and presence is so strong. The way he got excited about things, his voice when he was happy, the way he brought life to a room....I miss that. More than I think I ever have before.<br />
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It struck me the same evening that my grief goes through different seasons. In February and March, while my children were celebrating birthdays, I was really grieving the loss of their daddy in our lives. It was hurting me that Jeremy was missing them reaching new milestones and getting older and bigger, and he wasn't seeing any of it. I couldn't seem to turn a corner without feeling a stab of bitterness that he wasn't here for our kids.<br />
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Now that I think back, I can remember going through different seasons of grief. Not just the stages of grief like anger, denial, or depression....but grieving different specific pieces about the man that I loved. I went through a long phase of grieving not being able to experience Heaven with Jeremy, or constantly wondering what it will be like and yearning for the experience. Anything that was different than life without him. I went through a phase of really missing his knowledge of being able to fix anything, answering the questions I couldn't, and figuring out every electronic in our home. I remember for weeks in a row focusing on the absence of his physical presence - the feeling of holding his hand, the physical space he took up in the bed next to me and how empty it felt without him there, the comfort of his embrace. Then, it was smells - I missed his cologne, and the smell of his deodorant could have sent me on a downward spiral of tears....I even missed the smelly work clothes wreaking of cut grass, sweat, dirt, and body odor!<br />
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Has anyone else experienced these different seasons of specific pieces of grief? I call them seasons because they inevitably come back around. I will eventually grieve those pieces again in different situations along the way. And I also wonder what other pieces of him I haven't fully grieved yet.<br />
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Ultimately, it's all pieces of the same whole. All the parts that made up the man that I fell in love with. I grieve him completely, and apparently separately for all the different voids he left in my life. Different views of the same heart. Seasons taking affect on the same tree. But, oh, that tree sure was beautiful. I will miss it in every season.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-51504762460488472072013-03-21T00:33:00.000-04:002013-03-21T00:33:17.286-04:00Love is bigger<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupkGJvwZBq-fJ2hetbm3-kOM8eDup4YI1jnuQiAZj860p-8DzpKc92HcdWvITjjj_Z52J37nI1Is7qDjB3q4gRTRx-JmxH8GvQ5dx8xm4YKJ7V1DoslHuxoCTL6c0VRkFI4ts_Q0hEAs/s1600/nothing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupkGJvwZBq-fJ2hetbm3-kOM8eDup4YI1jnuQiAZj860p-8DzpKc92HcdWvITjjj_Z52J37nI1Is7qDjB3q4gRTRx-JmxH8GvQ5dx8xm4YKJ7V1DoslHuxoCTL6c0VRkFI4ts_Q0hEAs/s400/nothing.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/rock%20lyrics?language=tr_TR">source</a></td></tr>
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I was thinking about Amanda's post last week on Widow's Voice comparing divorce to death and how perturbed it made me what some people have the nerve to say (you can read it <a href="http://widowsvoice-sslf.blogspot.com/2013/03/ok-i-have-got-my-ranty-pants-on-here.html#comment-form">HERE</a>). I've been lucky that no one has been dumb enough to try to compare the two to my face....or I should say, <i>they've</i> been lucky enough.<br />
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Not even my husband, who has been through one of the most painful divorces I know of, tries to compare the two. Just as I don't ever try to play the widow card to trump the hurt and pain that he's gone through. We know they're different and both painful in their own right.<br />
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But in my own personal experience, I have recently really noticed the difference that those tragic experiences have played out for our children. I ache every time I realize that Jeremy is missing out on things in his childrens' lives and there is nothing that will ever fill that void. But there is one thing I'm always certain of: Jeremy was an incredible daddy and his children will never doubt the love he had for them. Now that our oldest girls have gotten to a place where they realize their biological mother is not in the picture because of her own choice, that is a much harder topic to trudge through. The questions of why dad was the one who did the things that moms were supposed to when they were little are hard to answer. Knowing that we look for opportunities to honor Jeremy and talk about him in our household is a stark contrast to the care and sensitivity we take to not expose the pain and hurt the runs deep (and unfortunately current) caused by a mentally and physically unhealthy person who wants other people to be as unhappy as she is. I never thought the ripples and scars left by that tragedy could be as complicated to heal as my own.<br />
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How could you choose a more painful experience between watching a child that has night terrors about their parents leaving them or a child who has a hard time trusting people because they don't feel safe with the person who is supposed to care for them the most? A child who asks why daddy had to die or a child that ask wonders if it was their fault that their mom never did their hair or bathed them and would leave for days at a time? Which is worse? The truth is, they both are and comparing the two only makes it more painful.<br />
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What is boils down to is that it's ultimately not about divorce vs. death, but it's about <i>love</i>. While I wouldn't wish a death of a spouse on anyone, I can say that I am thankful for the love that Jeremy gave me, and I would NEVER trade it, even if I had known I would lose him so soon. And while I certainly would never wish a divorce on anyone, I know that divorced parents are not DEAD parents. But to feel a parent <i>choose</i> to leave is a painful trail in and of itself. I get frustrated in either situation by people who abuse these experiences to hurt others, or put children in the middle of it. In my book, that's unacceptable. To feel unconditional love is to be given wings in a very heaven laden world. Love matters, and when you get to experience it, no matter how short of time you have it for, it changes you and the way you see the world. It makes the harder parts easier to walk through. It make life worth living.<br />
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At the end of the day, we love our way through grief and divorce when our children struggle, because love is bigger than both, and the only thing that gives us the strength to keep going. We might not always have the right answers, but we are sure they cannot be out loved.<br />
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In the end, love wins.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166658235135692088.post-30011770737900911892013-03-13T22:47:00.000-04:002013-03-13T22:47:05.600-04:00Through Your Eyes<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheG3-EdolSTpUr4Ph5Ecd1tEUKJ5sJ5smzbgyyZmYIzKnKqBZWOrprZ5C_JDXbCDXSrGMOzhi1x9nEDAKxWAIc8wWBFAt5NNwBss9zAnrTStJCdKSPEzb7muIFgavqWGQBz8f1mmxJy-4/s1600/eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheG3-EdolSTpUr4Ph5Ecd1tEUKJ5sJ5smzbgyyZmYIzKnKqBZWOrprZ5C_JDXbCDXSrGMOzhi1x9nEDAKxWAIc8wWBFAt5NNwBss9zAnrTStJCdKSPEzb7muIFgavqWGQBz8f1mmxJy-4/s400/eyes.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://redefiningcuriosity.blogspot.com/2012/07/world-in-your-eyes.html">source</a></td></tr>
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Yesterday, my 6 year old turned into a 7 year old. Like any birthday, I can hardly believe it. But birthdays after loss can be so much more bittersweet. Bitter for the every moment that Jeremy is missing out on his daughter's life, and sweet that in spite of the great tragedy of losing her daddy, Faith is growing into a beautiful young girl. I'm so proud of who she is and the heart she carries with her.<br />
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While I am always proud of my children, I've also recently taken notice of what a spectacular thing it can be to stop and look at them through Jeremy's eyes. It's like I can see his smile and hear his voice in the same way I heard it for days on end after Faith was born saying "she's <i>so</i> beautiful." Or see him sit back in his chair with arms crossed in satisfaction at Caleb when he makes something amazing with his legos. I can almost hear his amusement when I get a belly laugh out of Carter. Somehow, my chest sticks out a little farther to take pride in them for the both of us.<br />
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I've often wondered what purpose Carter was to serve in my life, having never had the chance to meet his daddy face-to-face, and then had to come into the world with a mother who was broken hearted and didn't have a clue how to put one foot in front of the other. I often call him the boy who saved my life because he literally forced me keep going, not for myself but for him, because he depended on me for survival. But I questioned God's purpose in his birth so many times, because it was so painful to endure. Then, the other day when I was having a bad day, upset on the couch, he came and brought me a blanket and pillow and even brought me an ice pack (cause he thought I was hurt) and then laid with me and patted me with his tiny little hands chanting "it's ok mama"........this guy just turned two. What kind of 2 year old has the sense to take care of his mama like that? It's like he knows. He's my protector. And suddenly I got the sense that maybe he sees me through Jeremy's eyes sometimes too.<br />
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I know my children's futures have unending potential, but I think maybe part of their purpose in this world was to show me how to see more of the world through Jeremy's eyes and to recognize how Jeremy saw me. What a gift that truly is.<br />
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I continue to remind myself to stop and look at the world through his eyes, not only to keep him close to me but also to feel the passion for the things he loved....which just so happen to include the people I love. Sometimes, the change of perspective is all I need to remind me to keep going.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/361/66D3C27290499C28EB19BBCBE19E1802.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Veehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05819788859577010155noreply@blogger.com4