tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-188030342024-03-07T17:58:03.628-08:00mE and My lifeSome writing, some family, just mostly peices of me as I desire to share.mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-57606424584549658902018-01-31T13:30:00.000-08:002018-01-31T13:30:15.229-08:00<div align="center" class="MsoTitle" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 72.0pt;">The Kitten </span><span style="font-size: 9.0pt;">retold
by : fish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoHeading8" style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there
was a little kitten named Lily. One day, she was drinking her evening milk when
she saw a canary on the ground. She went “meow meow” again and again until her
owner opened the door. Unfortunately for her, the second her owner closed the
door and looked away, a coyote jumped out at her from behind a bush! The kitten
ran crying to door but the coyote followed close behind. (Dun dun dun dun) Fortunately,
the lily’s cries caught the owner’s attention just before lily reached the
door. The owner opened the back door. He let lily in and shut the door in the
coyote’s face.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">End<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-40515861940594980512016-03-18T13:37:00.002-07:002016-03-18T14:20:57.106-07:00How the Farmer's Wife got a New Feather Duster<div class="MsoNormal">
Now the chicken yard happened to be just outside the big
picture window in the Farmer’s best parlor. When guest would come the farmer
and his wife would proudly point out their lovely White Leghorns, the
shimmering Buff Orphingtons, the Beautiful Dappled Bard Rock, and the fluffy
white Silkies.<o:p></o:p><img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTcJ04cmPHoj1F8HnzIzf5ujWM89nrrNv4YEzXaYsx9s7zewpoq6w" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The chickens thought this was just
fine and fluffed, and preened, and dashed to take their places strutting
proudly before the window; daintily scratching about for grubs and pieces of
grass, whenever they saw company coming.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Then one day, just as she was about
to catch a bright green grasshopper, the littlest Silky looked in the window
and gasped in horror! The farmer’s wife had a beautiful black chicken by the
feet and was shaking it all over the furniture! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Quickly she called to the other to
see for their own eyes. “Something must be done!” clucked the distressed little
Silky.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’ll say!” cackled the dappled
Bard Rock. “In all my life none of us have ever been invited into the house.
And that chicken is being allowed to touch everything!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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The tall White Leghorn sniffed indignantly,
“I should have guessed they’d prefer black to white.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,” mussed the Bard Rock,
leaning forward to look closer, “it is a perfect jet black isn’t it?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,” they all clucked in
agreement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was sure, the farmer’s wife must
have the most beautiful chicken to take into the house and wipe all over her furniture.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
No longer satisfied with being
shown off to the guests, the hens took care every morning to preen and fluff
and strut and cluck when the farmer’s wife came to their pen. But all she ever
did was take their eggs and smile, saying softly, “Are you all just the prettiest
bird that ever walked the earth?” But they knew she didn’t mean it, because day
after day, it was the black chicken and not they being swung by its feet all
around the farm house.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s not fare,” declared the
Leghorn one day as she sat waiting to pass an egg. Then she had an idea, one
she could not do alone. So, she called all the other chickens to her, and told
them her idea. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They each quickly agreed, but the
littlest Silky was not so sure, she was after all the one putting herself most
at risk. “Now that gets one of us a chance, but what about the rest?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh we’ll take turns,” the much
larger hen assured her in an off handed way. She just knew she would be the
next to be chosen and she didn’t want to wait a moment longer than she had to. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The little Silky hushed and they
waited. Soon, as was her afternoon habit, the farmer’s wife entered the parlor
and began to shale the bird about. The golden Orphington flew over the fence
and pecked at the front door. When the farmer’s wife appeared, she gasped that
the bird had escaped her enclosure and swiftly dropped her things and ran after
the now retreating bird. As soon as she had gone the Littlest Silky scurried
into the house. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The hallway inside was so big the
poor little bird might have left a surprise for the farmer’s wife. But
remembering her task she quickly ran around hoping up and down until she found
the feathered mass. She grabbed it by the wing and darted back out to the hen
house with the mass of feathers flopping about behind her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
All the hens gathered around and
stared at the now still figure. “Oh dear,” sighed the largest of the Silkies, “You’ve
killed it, dear.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They all stood about unsure what to
do next, until the Large White Leghorn, who wasn’t as sure the farmer’s wife
would like her pure white feathers now that she looked closely at the black,
stepped forward and declared, “Well she won’t need these anymore!” and with
that she snatched a hand full of feathers and gave it one great pull. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Just like that the hen house
erupted, each hen grabbing and grasping for all the feathers she could get her
hands on! Until, the dust settled and nothing was left of the bird but one leg
bone. (It was rumored there after that the curious Bardrock had stolen the beak
but she always denied it.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next afternoon the farmer’s
wife came into the room just as usual but she went here and there looking all
around. At last, in frustration she stopped and put her hands on her hips. That’s
when her eyes fell on the chicken yard. There, with all the pomp and strutting they
could manage stood every single chicken with black feathers tide all over them! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQE1n1dN3B43UYOWRLtoIl6NsSkIx0rHOUly3NbPboKlvdYWNnTee8l5D1qHPFvIJiHcaF3KzbDGZmiarT2MEHpqTgsoIqL8Mx-opr6wytUNkddZcLyozn52dj7ifCyh6-9oPl/s1600/Scan0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQE1n1dN3B43UYOWRLtoIl6NsSkIx0rHOUly3NbPboKlvdYWNnTee8l5D1qHPFvIJiHcaF3KzbDGZmiarT2MEHpqTgsoIqL8Mx-opr6wytUNkddZcLyozn52dj7ifCyh6-9oPl/s320/Scan0007.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">S</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">he gawked and then gasped and then ran out her front door to the chicken yard.</span><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The hens, their little hearts all a
flutter, ran up to her, each knowing that her stunning beauty was sure to be
chosen. Imagine their delight when the farmer’s wife grabbed them by their
feet and shook each one with all her might!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshEsXKr7cFTITtgQHN3D2ASNhQsIbhDpg3nlUG18v9dSbOBrJgY5is0pSnP41AsissZ6tSIwKan-X3gjFkDQOZmaLcG8xxexRSl7RGwVwg-mVUBKldKZBwWuN9YWCInOUT3vE/s1600/Scan0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshEsXKr7cFTITtgQHN3D2ASNhQsIbhDpg3nlUG18v9dSbOBrJgY5is0pSnP41AsissZ6tSIwKan-X3gjFkDQOZmaLcG8xxexRSl7RGwVwg-mVUBKldKZBwWuN9YWCInOUT3vE/s320/Scan0009.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Imagine her surprise, when
finishing shaking one, she found another black feather duster covered chicken
offer itself up to be shaken. But it didn’t stop till every last chicken had
been shaken and all the lost feathers had been reclaimed, not to mention a
whole lot of new feathers.</span><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
That night, in the hen house, it
was decided that being shaken by the feet was perhaps not a job to be sought
after. And if you looked in the big window in the afternoon as the farmer’s
wife dusted, you would see that her duster was no longer just plain black. It
was white, and speckled, and, fluffy, and golden. And she smiled whenever she
used it. <br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-83589237410861620232016-02-21T21:09:00.002-08:002016-02-21T21:32:45.492-08:00Talk given by Jonathan Simpson “Your life can be a powerful offering to God when you fill it with selflessness, humility, and gratitude. But it can be even more than that. Your life can be a powerful legacy that you leave for your own posterity and future generations. When you’re close to God and you spend your life loving and serving Him, you can’t help but leave a legacy of honor in your wake.” (mormon.org, December 30th 2015)<br />
<br />
[from] His Grace is Sufficient [by Brad Wilcox]<br />
'<i>A BYU student once came to me and asked if we could talk. I said, “Of course. How can I help you?”</i><br />
<i>She said, “I just don’t get grace.”</i><br />
<i>I responded, “What is it that you don’t understand?”</i><br />
<i>She said, “I know I need to do my best and then Jesus does the rest, but I can’t even do my best.”</i><br />
<i>She continued, “I know that I have to do my part and then Jesus makes up the difference and fills the gap that stands between my part and perfection. But who fills the gap that stands between where I am now and my part?”</i><br />
<i>Finally I said, “Jesus doesn’t make up the difference. Jesus makes all the difference. Grace is not about filling gaps. It is about filling us.”</i><br />
<i>Seeing that she was still confused, I took a piece of paper and drew two dots—one at the top representing God and one at the bottom representing us. I then said, “Go ahead. Draw the line. How much is our part? How much is Christ’s part?”</i><br />
<i>She went right to the center of the page and began to draw a line. Then, considering what we had been speaking about, she went to the bottom of the page and drew a line just above the bottom dot.</i><br />
<i>I said, “Wrong.”</i><br />
<i>She said, “I knew it was higher. I should have just drawn it, because I knew it.”</i><br />
<i>I said, “No. The truth is, there is no line. Jesus filled the whole space. He paid our debt in full. He didn’t pay it all except for a few coins. He paid it all. It is finished.”</i><br />
<i>She said, “Right! Like I don’t have to do anything?”</i><br />
<i>“Oh no,” I said, “you have plenty to do, but it is not to fill that gap. We will all be resurrected. We will all go back to God’s presence. What is left to be determined by our obedience is what kind of body we plan on being resurrected with and how comfortable we plan to be in God’s presence and how long we plan to stay there.”</i><br />
<i>By complying, we are not paying the demands of justice—not even the smallest part. Justice requires immediate perfection or a punishment when we fall short. Because Jesus took that punishment, He can offer us the chance for ultimate perfection and help us reach that goal. He can forgive what justice never could, and He can turn to us now with His own set of requirements.</i><br />
<i>“So what’s the difference?” the girl asked. “Whether our efforts are required by justice or by Jesus, they are still required.”</i><br />
<i>“True,” I said, “but they are required for a different purpose. Fulfilling Christ’s requirements is like paying a mortgage instead of rent or like making deposits in a savings account instead of paying off debt. You still have to hand it over every month, but it is for a totally different reason.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Christ’s arrangement with us is similar to a mom providing music lessons for her child. Because Mom pays the debt in full, she can turn to her child and ask for practice. Does the child’s practice pay the piano teacher? No. Does the child’s practice repay Mom for paying the piano teacher? No. Mom’s joy is found not in getting repaid but in seeing her gift used—seeing her child improve. And so she continues to call for practice, practice, practice.</i><br />
<i>If the child sees Mom’s requirement of practice as being too overbearing, perhaps it is because he doesn’t yet see with mom’s eyes. He doesn’t see how much better his life could be if he would choose to live on a higher plane. In the same way, because Jesus has paid justice, He can now turn to us and say, “Follow me”, “Keep my commandments”. If we see His requirements as being way too much to ask (“Gosh! None of the other Christians have to pay tithing! None of the other Christians have to go on missions, serve in callings, and do temple work!”), maybe it is because we do not yet see through Christ’s eyes. We have not yet comprehended what He is trying to make of us.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I have born-again Christian friends who say to me, “You Mormons are trying to earn your way to heaven.”</i><br />
<i>I say, “No, we are not earning heaven. We are learning heaven. We are preparing for it. We are practicing for it.”</i><br />
<i>They ask me, “Have you been saved by grace?”</i><br />
<i>I answer, “Yes. Absolutely, totally, completely, thankfully—yes!”</i><br />
<i>Then I ask them a question that perhaps they have not fully considered: “Have you been changed by grace?” They are so excited about being saved that maybe they are not thinking enough about what comes next. They are so happy the debt is paid that they may not have considered why the debt existed in the first place. Latter-day Saints know not only what Jesus has saved us from but also what He has saved us for. As my friend Omar Canals puts it, “While many Christians view Christ’s suffering as only a </i><i>huge favor He did for us, Latter-day Saints also recognize it as a huge investment He </i><i>made in us.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The miracle of the Atonement is not just that we can live after we die but that we can </i><i>live more abundantly. The miracle of the Atonement is not just that we can be </i><i>cleansed and consoled but that we can be transformed. Scriptures make it clear that no </i><i>unclean thing can dwell with God, but, brothers and sisters, no unchanged thing will </i><i>even want to.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I know a young man who just got out of prison—again. When he was a teenager </i><i>dealing with every bad habit a teenage boy can have, I said to his father, “We need to </i><i>get him to EFY.”</i><br />
<i>His dad said, “I can’t afford that.”</i><br />
<i>I said, “I can’t afford it either, but you put some in, and I’ll put some in, and then </i><i>we’ll go to my mom, because she is a real softy.”</i><br />
<i>We finally got the kid to EFY, but how long do you think he lasted? Not even a day.</i><br />
<i>By the end of the first day he called his mother and said, “Get me out of here!”</i><br />
<i>Heaven will not be heaven for those who have not chosen to be heavenly. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The older I get, and the more I understand this wonderful plan of redemption, the </i><i>more I realize that in the final judgment it will not be the unrepentant sinner begging </i><i>Jesus, “Let me stay.” No, he will probably be saying, “Get me out of here!” Knowing </i><i>Christ’s character, I believe that if anyone is going to be begging on that occasion, it </i><i>would probably be Jesus begging the unrepentant sinner, “Please, choose to stay. </i><i>Please, use my Atonement—not just to be cleansed but to be changed so that you want </i><i>to stay.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The miracle of the Atonement is not just that we can go home but </i><i>that—miraculously—we can feel at home there. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Too many are giving up on the Church because they are tired of constantly feeling like </i><i>they are falling short. They have tried in the past, but they always feel like they are </i><i>just not good enough. They don’t understand grace. </i><i>There are young women who know they are daughters of a Heavenly Father who </i><i>loves them, and they love Him. Then they graduate from high school, and the values </i><i>they memorized are put to the test. They slip up. They let things go too far, and </i><i>suddenly they think it is all over. These young women don’t understand grace. </i><br />
<i>There are young men who grow up their whole lives singing, “I hope they call me on a </i><i>mission,” and then they do actually grow a foot or two and flake out completely. They </i><i>get their Eagles, graduate from high school, and go away to college. Then suddenly </i><i>they mess up. They say, “I’ll never do it again,” and then they do it. They say, “I’ll </i><i>never do it again,” and then they do it. They say, “This is stupid. I will never do it </i><i>again.” And then they do it. The guilt is almost unbearable. They don’t dare talk to a </i><i>bishop. Instead, they hide. They say, “I can’t do this Mormon thing. I’ve tried, and the </i><i>expectations are just way too high.” So they quit. These young men don’t understand </i><i>grace.</i><br />
<i>I know returned missionaries who come home and slip back into bad habits they </i><i>thought were over. They break promises made before God, angels, and witnesses, and </i><i>they are convinced there is no hope for them now. Seriously? These young people </i><i>have spent entire missions teaching people about Jesus Christ and His Atonement, and </i><i>now they think there is no hope for them? These returned missionaries don’t </i><i>understand grace.</i><br />
<i>I know young married couples who find out after the sealing ceremony is over that </i><i>marriage requires adjustments. The pressures of life mount, and stress starts taking its </i><i>toll. Mistakes are made. Walls go up. And pretty soon these husbands and wives are </i><i>talking with divorce lawyers rather than each other. These couples don’t understand </i><i>grace.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Christ is not waiting at the finish line; He is with us every step of the way.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Elder Bruce C. Hafen has written, “The Savior’s gift of grace to us is not necessarily </i><i>limited in time to ‘after’ all we can do. We may receive his grace before, during and </i><i>after the time when we expend our own efforts” </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>So grace is not a booster engine that kicks in once our fuel supply is exhausted. </i><i>Rather, it is our constant energy source. It is not the light at the end of the tunnel but </i><i>the light that moves us through the tunnel.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The first company of Saints entered the Salt Lake Valley on July 24, 1847. Their </i><i>journey was difficult and challenging; still, they sang: </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>But with joy wend your way.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Though hard to you this journey may appear,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Grace shall be as your day.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We have all sung it hundreds of times, but have we stopped to consider what it </i><i>means? “Grace shall be as your day”: grace shall be like a day. As dark as night may </i><i>become, we can always count on the sun coming up. As dark as our trials, sins, and </i><i>mistakes may appear, we can always have confidence in the grace of Jesus Christ. Do </i><i>we earn a sunrise? No. Do we have to be worthy of a chance to begin again? No. We </i><i>just have to accept these blessings and take advantage of them. Faithful pioneers knew </i><i>they were not alone. The task ahead of them was never as great as the power behind </i><i>them.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The Book of Mormon teaches us to rely solely on “the merits, and mercy, an d grace of </i><i>the Holy Messiah” (2 Nephi 2:8). As we do, we do not discover—as some Christians </i><i>believe—that Christ requires nothing of us. Rather, we discover the reason He </i><i>requires so much and the strength to do all He asks. Grace is not the absence of God’s </i><i>high expectations. Grace is the presence of God’s power.'</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
It is far overdue that we stop making excuses for ourselves. We cannot keep pushing aside inconvenient aspects of commandments, tailoring the words of Christ and his prophets to fit our own agenda, whether in big ways or small, and expect salvation anyway. God did not give to Moses the Ten Suggestions, He gave Commandments. In like manner, if we profess to love and obey our prophet, we must follow all of their words. Matthew 7:21- Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Too often we might tweak the Word of Wisdom to fit our own tastes and work it into<br />
our chosen lifestyle; we quietly brush under the rug the divinely imposed commandment to consecrate each Sunday as a holy day to God, justifying that if we are spending time with families, the nature of the activity does not matter. Youth, especially, have blurred the line between dating and courting until the line has all but vanished, and the youth think that it’s permissible so long as they don’t break the law of chastity. Very often, brothers and sisters, we cannot see all the reasons for certain requirements and commandments, even when we think we do, so we only blind and numb ourselves spiritually when we look for loopholes.<br />
<br />
Titus 1:16 - They profess that they know God; but in works they deny [him], being abominable, and disobedient……<br />
<br />
*W.o.W, Sabbath Day observance, studying scriptures, Family Home Evening*<br />
Dating<br />
“The Lord has made us attractive one to another for a great purpose. But this very attraction becomes as a powder keg unless it is kept under control. It is beautiful when handled in the right way. It is deadly if it gets out of hand. It is for this reason that the Church counsels against early dating. This rule is not designed to hurt you in any way. It is designed to help you, and it will do so if you will observe it.”<br />
–Gordon B. Hinckley<br />
<br />
Let’s see if you can correctly answer the following question: At what age are Latter-day Saint youth allowed to date? Of course, you probably immediately said, “16,” showing you’ve paid attention to For the Strength of Youth, as well as your parents and Church leaders.<br />
OK, then, how about this one: At what age are you allowed to have a boyfriend or girlfriend? You may be thinking, “Um, 16. Didn’t I just answer that?” Well, if that was your answer, then, even though you aced the first question, you missed the second one. Just because you can date when you turn 16 doesn’t mean you should immediately start looking for a steady boyfriend or girlfriend.<br />
<br />
As President Boyd K. Packer, has said to youth, “Avoid steady dating. Steady dating is courtship, and surely the beginning of courtship ought to be delayed until you have emerged from your teens”<br />
You should avoid becoming exclusive as teenagers, because an exclusive relationship requires a high level of commitment from both partners, and you’re not in a position to make that kind of commitment as teens—neither emotionally, physically, nor in terms of your future plans.<br />
For decades, prophets have preached that youth who are in no position to marry should not pair off exclusively. For instance, President Hinckley (1910–2008) said,<br />
“When you are young, do not get involved in steady dating. When you reach an age where you think of marriage, then is the time to become so involved. But you boys who are in high school don’t need this, and neither do the girls”<br />
1 John 2:4 - He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar,and the truth is not in him.<br />
<br />
Brothers and sisters, I know that each of us is capable of living more highly than we are now. As we become more like the Father, we will come to experience a life which is more rich with joy and fulfillment. To each of us, so much is given, and of course, a great deal is required—but we can do it! To conclude I paraphrase parts of Hebrews Chapter 13, for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me. Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://speeches.byu.edu/talks/brad-wilcox_his-grace-is-sufficient/" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">https://speeches.byu.edu/<wbr></wbr>talks/brad-wilcox_his-grace-<wbr></wbr>is-sufficient/</a><br />
<br />mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-76485538020513251362015-08-03T14:24:00.002-07:002015-08-03T14:24:17.403-07:00<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a place they say, up in those mountains, where
trolls hide from the sunlight and dance to the tune of the wind through the
trees on dark moonless nights. They hide from us, fearful creatures, so they
say. But reason they have and that reason, so I’ve heard, is betrayal. The
story goes something like this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once long ago, the trolls lived in the valleys, free from
toil or strife. The played in the sunshine and laughed in the moonlight and
never really thought about it. Their’s was a life of freedom and carefree play
that is known only to a child. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day
the fairies came, they gathered in awe of the creatures’ tall slim beauty,
greatly contrasted by their own short, plum beauty, a beauty not of feature but
of spirit. This too was contrasted by the cold ugliness of the fairy soul. They
were outcasts. The elves cast them off when their cold nature caused a rift so
great that the fairies even sought to supplant the King of the Elves. They say
they were once one and the same, but that is another story, one that even they
can’t remember any more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But,
the Trolls knew none of this. In their innocence they could only see the
beauty, for cruelty had no place in their history. The Trolls brought them
gifts with the exuberance of shear adoration. But the Fairies cast them out and
trampled upon their insignificant gifts. Devastated the Trolls sat down and
cried. Had this been all, perhaps we would still see the Trolls and the Fairies
among us still today, but alas, the simple Trolls could not understand and
tried again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This
time he Fairies wanted them to understand that Trolls and their gifts were far
beyond their notice or time. They simply left. But one stayed behind. She was
more beautiful and cold than all the rest. Perfectly shaped in body, perfectly
mangled in heart. She could not bare that such folly as to approach the Fairies
with ugliness go unpunished. She stood before the creatures and smiled. They
brightened at the acknowledgement. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My
little ones, are you not tired?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
Trolls nodded, for all their tears had wearied them greatly. She opened her
arms and gathered them together. She cringed within herself at their touch but
she continued to caress and comfort them. Finally she stood and held up a
bottle. It sparkled almost as bright as she in the moonlight, for it was night.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Drink
this,” she said, “and you will never be tired again. But don’t any one drink
too much. It must be shared with all. I must go now,” She said, handing the
bottle to the chief. “I will be back by say light. Wait here for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon
as she vanished, the trusting souls began, each sipping in their turn. It took
them all night because the bottle emptied slowly and the clan of Trolls was
large.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunlight
began to creep over the mountain peaks and the Trolls waited. The rays began to
caress the landscape and the Trolls clapped their hands and grinned in anticipation.
Then the sunbeam touched the first Troll. With a scream, he turned to stone.
One by one, two by two, whole groups cried out in pain and hardened before the
cry could die in their throats. The few that were sitting within the mouth of a
cave, turned and ran deeper within. There they hid waiting for the Fairy to
return. Perhaps she would know how to undo this evil. They were so distraught that
they did not notice how tired they were.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then
they heard a great cracking. They rushed forward to see what was happening now.
There stood the beautiful Fairy with arm up raised holding a great mallet, a
pile of broken stone behind her and a beloved brother turned stone in front.
One began to cry out as understanding washed over him, and he could not hold
his tongue. But then, a light flashed starting him into silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What
is this before me?” a deep soothing voice asked. A man dressed in simple cloth
stood before her, holding out his hand to stop the blow. “I have been sent
because King Tantaroon, King of all the Fiery Realms, heard one of His children
cry out, and here I find you, oh daughter of the Fairies. You would not, after
so soon having lost your home, turn again to destruction?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
Fairy held herself aloof, “Who are you that I should answer your quiries? I AM
a daughter of the Fairies. And you are not but dross.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then
the man, not young , nor old, reached out his hand in one last warning, “Be it
understood, should you still fail to return to your Father, you shall be
rendered powerless.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
woman sneered, her face turning ugly to even the Trolls watching silently. Then
she lifted her arm and came down, crushing the stone figure into an innumerable
pieces. Then she threw back her head a laughed. I still have the power to do
whatever I wish, and so I will. The Fairy turned and walked toward the next
stone figure, but with each step she grew shorter, and shorter. Noticing the change
she panicked and called out. Another Fairy appeared but he too was growing
smaller and smaller. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is
why the Fairies are so small today. They have no power, but their pride leads
them to lie and tell stories of all kinds of powers great and small, from
changing the seasons and granting wishes too collecting teeth of small children
and leaving a gift.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
Trolls sat with their eyes wide trying to take in all that they were seeing.
The man turned to them, his beauty was in his face. They could not tell if he
was handsome or not, simply that he was full of love and wisdom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Stay
there my friends,” he called. “The Fairy’s actions will not be undone, but you
will learn to be wise. The sun will turn you to stone, but your hearts will
continue to beat and when the darkness falls, you will be freed.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was
as he said. And so you see, that is why the Trolls hide and the Fairies too.
The Trolls to protect themselves, the Fairies to protect their pride.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-86819118549529999002014-12-22T13:55:00.000-08:002014-12-22T14:01:53.817-08:00The King of the Twelve Kingdoms<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
twelve stars shone brighter tonight than ever before.<img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTvwMrshm4WzfDSISybLTkghBgC2CEpVuxJ8yAFJ-VKgz6QKi4g7A" /> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The twelve stars trembled
in their place ready to break into dance at any moment. The time was short and
Therman was growing restless as he waited. Two hours late already. At this
rate, they would never finish the ceremony in time and the twelve princesses
would be lost for another two hundred years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTdJuOfvBPnqiQ_lEp0nCCuUo_f6JDaFcS-nT7clEkQh8giSQFHaQ" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman rubbed his large, hairy hands together at the thought of the
beautiful glistening figures made human form. If he could have all twelve his
harem would not only be unmatched in all the world, but he would rule all
twelve kingdoms. No one could stop him, no one but an incompetent delivery boy.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
trembling grew more violent till the stars almost seemed to sway in the night
sky. Suddenly there was a rustling in the under growth. Therman jumped caught
off guard as he was lost in his thoughts. “Who goes there!” he shouted brandishing the ancient sword of his
fathers. A cloaked figure bowed and stepped forth out of the brambles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The
stars shine brightly for such a hot night,” the stranger said bowing low. The
voice and shape was not as young as Therman was expecting, they had said
delivery boy, not youth, but Therman was not concerned with their ideas of the
aging process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The
stars shine brightly when the time is ripe for dancing,” Therman rattled it off
as quickly as he could. “Now give me the package!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
figure pulled his cloak tighter around himself, “They told me payment first.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
glanced at the stars. The first start had begun its journey. One by one they
would move till each had taken a new place, like musical chairs when the last
star had taken the first’s place the dance would have ended and the time would
have passed. Therman threw the coin purse at the boy, “Take it! Just give me
the package!” he screamed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
package flew through the night and into his trembling, outstretched hands. He
jerked the draw string open and out burst the bright light of a rainbow of
colors. Squatting down he dumped the bag of stones on the ground. Each
glimmered its own color, the color of the banners of the twelve kingdoms.
Therman whispered the incantation quickly as he placed each stone in order, “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Within the realms of gods have danced<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Princess of power untold<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Come once again to the earth
below<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> And claim all that has been
foretold<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> One to call, the other Grand Jewel <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> One to serve, the other to Rule<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Power for he who owns each heart<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Given to him who took not part<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> And so shall serve he who calls<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Back to earth as has been
foretold<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> The Princesses of beauty to
behold<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Now is the time “<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman paused breathless and looked up at the stars above.
They no longer moved but trembled in their places. “<i>Now, COME HOME!” </i>The stones
light began to grow. But all Therman saw was the twelve stars suddenly leave
their dance and gather to the center of the circle. As each reached the middle
the light grew ten fold till the whole sky was a blaze. Therman covered his
face where he crouched and let out a small scream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rise
slave,” came a soft sweet voice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img src="http://melisatedjakusuma.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/pimg_760031175412443.jpg?w=500" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
slowly lowered his arm and there before him was a vision he could not have
fathomed. All twelve stood around him, each behind her stone. They were glowing
the same color as the stones before them. They didn’t look real their faces
were so beautiful and their gowns and crowns were so intricate and marvelous.
Tears came to Therman’s eyes as he just stared at them, forgetting all his
plans in the shear amazement of their presence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
brightest put forth her hand and pointed at Therman, “I said, Rise slave!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
gave a little squeak as he felt the earth grow further from him. A ripple went
though the light and Therman realized he was being laughed at. Some of the
Princesses covered their mouths in fained shock but each set of eyes sparkled
with myrth as Therman spun mid air before them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where
is the other?” The soft voice asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No
other my pet,” Therman stuttered. Among his own he was looked down on. He knew
it would be hard for these apparitions to realize they were his, but he had
fulfilled the prophesy and his they were. “I called you. I’m your ruler.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One to
call, the other Grand Jewel <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One to
serve, the other to Rule.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You have called us, you are the servant.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh,
I’ve missed servants!” A light pink Princess with rippling hair giggled, “I do
so <i>need</i> my boots cleaned.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where
is the other?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
sputtered, “I am your ruler! I called you! Put me down!” His face was growing
red and his bread kept falling in his face causing him to violently paw it out
of the way. Looked very like a dog who has just been sprayed by a skunk as he
turned and flopped in the air. “Let me down I say! I AM the ruler!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No.”
The Princess stepped away from the floating figure calling back over her
shoulder, “Don’t have too much sport with him ladies. We need him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman’s
protests were drowned out as the laughter of almost a dozen playful Princesses
converged on him. The brightest Princess walked to the edge of the clearing and
called, “I know you are there. The spell would only work if two were present.
Come out and let us see the ruler of our hearts and kingdoms.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is he
over there?!” the orange princess squealed. “I’ll bet he’s strong and handsome
and…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
light trembled. The Princesses fell silent looking around at each other in
confusion. Then it happened again, the lights emanating from them trembled and
dimmed. The small pink Princess groaned and doubled over. “I don’t want to go
back,” she cried pitifully. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The brightest
Princess ran over and wrapped her arms around the young girl. “Don’t go back.
Stay here. We will all stay here this time.” She lifted her head and looked
around. Then her face changed from worry to pale horror. “What are you doing?!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
cloaked figure that had brought the stones stood holding the light pink stone
in his hand. The stones had all been arranged back in their order, only one was
out of place and he held it in his hand, fingering it thoughtfully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Please, my Love” the bright white Princess stretched out her hand in pleading, “think of what we offer you. Have
pitty on us. Don’t send us back. We will do anything you want, everything you
desire!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
youth pulled back his cloak and there stood a very old man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The Princesses all gasped. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His face grew hard and he said, “I
desire to retain the peace that has ruled this land since you twelve were
banished. I miss you, but…” the pink stone was swiftly dropped into place and
the little pink princess dimmed and vanished.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
dropped a few inches and flipped so he could see the night sky. A single star
had reappeared. A wail went up among the dimming figures. Therman dropped again
and another star appeared. Then more swiftly, inch by foot he dropped till he
almost touched the ground. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How
many times will you banish us? How many times will you turn your back on your
heart?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The old
man stepped from the circle of stones and took the Princess’s hand, his eyes
shimmered and his whole body shook. He held the hand as if he would hold her
back and then he dropped the hand and embraced the woman, “I love you!” he
cried just before she vanished, leaving his arms empty and his head bowed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
fell the last few inches and scrambled to his feet. The stones no longer
glowed. The stars were still in the night sky. Therman pulled his clothes back
into their place, the laughter and cruelty of the beautiful face lingering
before his eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet the
old man stood, his head bowed, his shoulders stooped. For a moment Therman
thought the man had fallen asleep or perhaps had fallen under a spell. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m
sorry my good man.” Came a weak, tired voice, “I have used you badly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
dusted himself off. “How do you mean? How’d you come here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am
the keeper of the stones.” The old man lift his head, his eyes were weary and
dull. “When someone comes to steal them, I know there will be an attempt to
call my girls. So, I come to see them, to hear their laughter, to glory in
their beauty, and to morn at their cruelty.” The man took a great heaving sigh
and stooped down to gather the stones, saying as he did so, “And I come to make
sure they do not stay. Had you succeeded my friend, you would have been their
toy and the little thirteen year old thief you sent would rule the twelve
kingdom and my girl’s hearts, though they be cold and hard hearts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therman
looked at his hands and watched as the man slipped the last stone back into the
pouch. Then, as the man headed back to
the woods, Therman called out, “Wait! How did they know you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The old
man smiled sadly, “They are my daughters.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> </i><img 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" /><i> </i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-49867062813868824972014-01-24T19:19:00.000-08:002014-01-24T19:19:03.887-08:00Mother Heart PrologProlog At the New UN 2075 Early April “Stan, the excitement in the crowd is palpable. " Eian Branshaw looked behind him waving his hand to show the camera the luxurious crowd behind him. A thick crowd pushed closer to a red velvet walk lined with ropes holding the people back. Various Vehicles pulled forward letting out men and women in official robes indicating their nation or sect. Some looked into the crowd waving large charismatic smiles. Others stared ahead with solemn faces. "What we’re seeing here is the culmination of years of work and diplomacy. Those gathered behind me are among the lucky few; diplomats, former students, and of course we few reporters that get to witness this historic event.” The shot zoomed out to reveal another reporter in a news room “Eian, I speak for myself and everyone else here, that you are a very envied man right now. We would all love to be there.” “I feel incredibly lucky to have this opportunity.” “What would you say is the over-all sentiment there?” “Well, like I said, excitement. We all know what this means for the world. It means the progress and the peace that we have spent generations touting and searching for is finally upon us. Here we are at the brink of worldwide collapse and we have hope.” “Now, I just saw Serge Perot behind you. He doesn't look happy at all." " No, I can imagine not. President Perot has been extremely vocal in his opposition of this move by the UN." " He and others as well. We all know there are those out there who oppose this action by the UN to choose one school as the official worldwide educational institution.” “I don’t think those people have been properly informed of what’s really taught. A lot of false rumors out there, Ried. A lot of false consperisy theories .” “You went to an Alia school, didn’t you?” “Yes, I was in the first class.” “What would you say was the most important thing you learned there? Why does this one school promise so much peace that others have tried and failed to find?” “It’s the importance it puts on the child from the very beginning. From birth to marriage the child is carefully nurtured to become a responsible, productive citizen. After a full generation we can say for sure that divorce rates are nonexistent, violence in the graduates is unheard of, production as citizens is astronomical. And the best part is their children, the next generation, my child, is getting an even better position because they have parents that can support the system. It builds on its self. It’s amazing, really.” “I’ve seen your IQ scores. I really envy you the start you got.” “Through this legislation the whole world will be able to have this advantage. Hang on,” Branshaw's hand covered his right ear focusing on the sound in his left ear where the bone mic had been installed, “I’ve just been informed that the Alia’s have arrived. There they are!" His hand shot up pointing enthusiastically at the old black car that glided up to the end of the carpet, led and followed by much more sleek black vehicles.The camera quickly zoomed in as the car doors opened and large men with black suits stepped out scanning the crowd and buildings. Branshaw's voice returned to normal as he continued, "They are in the old first model fusion buggy. The security around them is unbelievable. Here they come…” The camera focused past the newscaster and onto a tall intelligent looking couple emerging from the car wearing long purple gowns and smiling happily at the cheering crowd. “Eian, what are they wearing?” “Stan those are ceremonial robes from the… Wait, she’s fallen!" The camera zoomed in until the entire screen is filled with a crumple of purple quickly added to as a second figure collapses next to it. The crowd begins to scream and duck. The camera bounces violently as people push past in an effort to flee. As it focuses back on the couple they are surrounded by the men in black suits until only a limp hand is visible. “What’s happening there?” the anchorman asked. “There’s blood! Why? Where’s it coming from?” The young reporter disappeared for a moment only to return with bright red eyes and a slightly hysterical voice. “Someone has shot the Alia's, I repeat, the Alia’s have been shot.” Charlotte Tiller heard no more, saw no more. She felt the wait of baby Hope resting on her hip but her mind was numb. A vision of crumpled up purple swirled before her eyes.mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-16438790482834910412013-03-03T19:26:00.002-08:002013-03-03T19:26:22.521-08:00A story we wroteOnce there was a doggy. <img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="207" data-width="208" height="207" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQGr19RZyV_5FYx1oyg5vDbzmlCtb50QIxHLKopk_-XfCUR0FD9gg" style="height: 207px; width: 208px;" width="208" /><br />
The Doggies name was Victoria. Victoria was a magical ballerina girl. You see she is a person but she likes to spend her life as a puppy dog. She loves to dance on her four paws.<img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="271" data-width="186" height="271" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRt0Pm3GnehvfMXeJMUkm2sIcztr-l58wBGe3Mr8xHqOgJSinO-" style="height: 271px; width: 186px;" width="186" /><br />
She got so good at it she started to wear dance shoes on all four paws. But then when she wanted she turned into a Pony. She was so good at it she wore dance shoes on all four hooves. <img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="198" data-width="255" height="198" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT8k4LheD3-DS0A3p-Y7k7pmARHbjCfyVwQQJEMTg0tDrGNWwl4vQ" style="height: 198px; width: 255px;" width="255" /><br />
And whenever she wanted to she turned into a kitten. Almost everywhere people would find her at the door saying, "Meow meow, let me in!" And they would say "AH! Talking kitty!<img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="265" data-width="190" height="265" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQCmhmlr90WGUX_mtVVWoOv5_5hmyu9GV0Gefao37Q6fFld9dTp" style="height: 265px; width: 190px;" width="190" /><br />
" And her parents had never found such a magical girl that she had adopted. <br />
And one day she found a magical pony so she turned into a pony so they could fly, <img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTOOdVZFdLKHNqgP0-hEcg8fvrqYhHLDzBT9yy06rM6HGGKQtbj" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" />but that's another story. <br />
The EndmEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-56098077751716922182013-01-03T12:52:00.001-08:002013-01-03T12:52:47.197-08:00The Real ProblemThe real problem with writing...<br />
Wondering how the story will end and wishing the writer would get her act together and finish it for me.<br />
mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-2907618320779729832012-10-03T14:18:00.000-07:002012-10-03T14:23:34.539-07:00Where does it come from?Never ask a fairy where’s she’s from. I told him a dozen times but he just couldn’t seem to get it through his head. Ask a woman her age, her weight, if you must, ask if she’s pregnant, but NEVER ask a fairy where she’s from.<br />
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<img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="169" data-width="298" height="169" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSXZ1EzK4BtjQEUzcXthCTT0BVLPbbMBV_5poZtVhPFO0E_ke7gKg" style="height: 169px; width: 298px;" width="298" /><br />
Oh sorry, my name’s Spellinda. My brother, thick head over there, is Gregory Thomas Speleford the Fifth. I told my parents we should have named him Spalunk but they didn’t go for it. But that doesn’t stop me from calling him that. You should see the way mom comes out of her skin when I do!<br />
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Anyway, we’re wil-o-the-whisps. It’s lots of fun. Hiding keys and glasses, stealing that last bite of food from the container, running through trees on spooky nights right outside windows. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this. Never mind, forget I said any of that. We just sit out in the yard all day making the daisies nod. Yep, that’s all we do. <br />
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Anyway, I told Spalunk not to ask a fairy where she’s from but he didn’t listen and that’s how we got into the mess.<br />
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It started off innocent enough. We were running up and down the wall with crayons tapped to our shoes while little Billy played with his blocks in the other room, <br />
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<img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR8b1o6OPVwPwlW2dAa95vkp0M7Y88_UU5nsMyhrjTTHw4qbSqP" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" />when this gorgeous blue fairy waltzes in on a passing breeze and asks what we’re up to. Well, I’m not stupid enough to answer such a question. If she can’t figure it out, who am I to rob her of the chance to exercise that pretty little brain of hers. <br />
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But Spalunk just open his mouth wide and asked, “Where’d you come from?”<br />
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My mouth fair fell open. She smiled at him with all the evil her soul could muster. “You shall find out.”<br />
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The next thing I know we’re sitting in the middle of a dung heap with smelly fairies buzzing all around us.<br />
<img class="rg_i" data-src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSB5aYIkf-eJ0KElHRMXnHI8Kb2dnlJoJgX0e83sXELyr1NnCDQ" data-sz="f" height="140" name="D7WqK3ABqiF-vM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSB5aYIkf-eJ0KElHRMXnHI8Kb2dnlJoJgX0e83sXELyr1NnCDQ" width="187" /><br />
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“Oh, good!” Cries this ancient looking one. “New hands. We’ve need help for some weeks now.” She grabs both our arms and lifts up out of the pile of manure and flies us to the other side. “Now, the eggs will hatch soon. All you have to do is feed them the manure as they crawl out. “<br />
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I’d heard of this trick, hence the warning for dear little brother, but I’d never heard what happened after. <br />
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Pretty soon that foul smelling dung heap started shaking and I started to fear for my very life, but then this dear little spot of light came crawling out. <br />
<img class="rg_i" data-src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQZxnfrF_ENF68rV8ZVZpsifMU4nBRZX07WT8OaPoZojbfS0fyxKvaRUfIy" height="127" name="LFEZzCvFIsE9mM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQZxnfrF_ENF68rV8ZVZpsifMU4nBRZX07WT8OaPoZojbfS0fyxKvaRUfIy" width="90" /><br />
She toddled over to me and looked up with all the beauty and allure of wounded dear seeking help. I forgot myself and reached down, scooping up that poo and reaching it out to her. She opened up her tiny little mouth and daintily took a bite. Then she smiled up at me and I thought, “Well, that wasn’t so bad. If you just need a little poo to make something so cute and useful as a fairy then I’ll hold my little hand full. But then she tugged on my shirt for more, and the piles began to shake again. Then there were two, then three. Before I knew it the whole mound was alive with tinny spots of light flying up and demanding more and more poo! I was starting to get covered cause every time one came up to ask for more she’d leave a mighty hand print of poo. <br />
<img class="rg_i" height="114" name="jiv-mRWMs4bXuM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTl3yvlJa5_VVhSHKguQxbq9pyKw5K8KEtES5vmNr_NtiVXVGNdejyNJ0omkQ" width="121" /><br />
Then they started crawling on me to get there first and that’s when I lost it.<br />
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I looked over at Spalunk to say, ‘Let’s get out of here.” But he was so busy playing with the little things he had no idea what a mess he was. So I decided on action. I threw the one that was bighting me back at the pile where, by the way, more were still crawling out. I grabbed Spalunk’s collar and turned to flee. <br />
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We ran up ditches and down rivers, those little light spots seemed glued to our shoes. Then, we were passing this box and an arm shot out and grabbed us jerking us in before the fairies caught up. <br />
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<img class="rg_i" height="129" name="rXQJbOBJsin3eM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTyTGlBK2w73HTAr8yyJzatZhLfJfzXSfXhDDExvuE0fOAP3khJyyyUY1NY" width="118" /><br />
“Name’s Mighty,” he spat out in heavy Irish brogue, “I’m a Leprechaun.” <br />
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“Spellinda, and Spulunk. Thanks for saving us.”<br />
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“Oh I wasn’t trying to save you, I was trying to stop you.”<br />
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“Huh? Stop us from what?”<br />
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“From feeding those fairies. The more fairies there are the more manure we leprechaun have to come up with.”<br />
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I was still confused so I asked again, “Huh?”<br />
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“Don’t you know anything? It goes like this. We bring in the manure but the there will only ever hatch as many as you’re willing to feed. Can’t feed themselves, can they? So they get some dolt to come and feed away. The more they feed, the more hatch, the more manure we have to get for later. If we don’t stop someone the whole world’s going to be covered in manure.”<br />
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So that’s why I’m here. To plead with you, if a light spot of light waltzes up to you ask where it comes from, then if it comes from a pile of poo… don’t feed it.<br />
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<br />mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-85748940963324117482012-08-28T05:51:00.002-07:002012-08-28T05:51:51.436-07:00To be continued...Two doors down and one hallway over lives a family of extremely interesting circumstances. These circumstances were related to me by the youngest occupant one autumn day as we swung on the swings in the apartment playground. Of course she never said it was her family but she seemed a little over confident of the details in some parts and a little too hesitant in others, especially the parts that implicated the youngest member of the family.<br />
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According to her, it all began as she watched the rain pouring over the gutter.<br />
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That day the mother, Amanda, had chosen not to go anywhere because of the forecasted storm. And now, much the youngest, Carina, ’s chagrin, it had come with a torrential glory. Every now and then a flash of lighting would pulse, quickly illuminating the waterfall and the landscape beyond. <br />
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The house stood at the top of a small hill, which rose up onto of a much taller, though more subtle hill. The family never worried about being flooded, although today, Carina felt a little bit like Noah. She had already begun to wonder if her new umbrella would float if it were turned upside down with her inside it. She had some serious doubts.<br />
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“I hope it stops soon.” Amanda declared walking up behind Carina. “I have no desire to walk to the barn in that much rain. What about you little one? Would you be willing to walk through the rain to lock up your chickens?”<br />
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For the first time Carina noticed how dim everything was beginning to look. “Mom, we can’t go out in this! We’d get carried away!”<br />
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Amanda looked down at her daughter, one eyebrow cocked, “Carried away by what?”<br />
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“You know, the water and stuff. Dad always says you’re small and that you get carried away too easily, so I’m even smaller… What if we got John to go with us?”<br />
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Amanda threw her head back and laughed at her daughter’s logic. John was Carina’s slightly over weight but very tall brother. He was only 12 and yet almost as tall as their mother. Once some well meaning relative had joked that John had stolen all the height genes in the family before Carina had a chance to get any. Carina thought they were explaining why she was “small for her age” and still blamed John for all of her vertically challenged troubles. And here, once again, was a case where some of the height genes would have come in handy. <br />
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“Come on little one, grab your rain coat. John’s already out taking care of his pigs. If the water starts to ‘carry’ us away, we’ll just grab a ride on old Jamima’s back and she’ll take care of us.”<br />
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Carina shook her head. Jamima Puddle Duck was way too small to carry both of them. That little duck only came up to her knee and she couldn’t even walk straight. “How about we get the boat from the garage first.” Carina wrinkled her nose remembering her father returning from his last fishing trip and saying that there was a hole in it. “Maybe my umbrella?” There she was back to the same dilemma. Would her umbrella float? And could it carry her and her mother? She looked back out at the constant stream flowing down in front of her.<br />
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“No umbrellas, go get your coat and hat before it gets dark. We need to hurry.”<br />
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Carina ran to get her coat from the mud room hook where it lived. Her mother’s voice had that tense sound to it that only seemed to come when something was going wrong. Maybe her mother was scared about getting washed away too. Shoving her hands into her sleeves Carina tried to go over the swimming strokes she had learned this summer. If worse came to worse, she thought she could probably swim her mother to shore before giving into the current herself. Tears sprang to her eyes and she ran to her mother. She flung her arms around her mother’s waist crying softly.<br />
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“Baby, it’s not that bad. We’ve taken care of the animals in worse. But we need to get going.” Her mother’s voice trailed off as she looked out at past the gutter fall toward the distant horizon, “They say the worst is yet to come and the animals need to be safe tonight. “ Amanda slipped her hand into her daughter’s and smiled carefully down at her, “Just stick with me and wont let anyone carry you away.”<br />
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mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-87990701931146189712012-08-28T05:50:00.001-07:002012-08-28T05:50:26.071-07:00Just for funTime stands still for only a moment when two worlds of separate dimensions collide and then sift through each other leaving behind strange evidences but only enough to baffle the wise. <br />
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Once long ago, an ancient world of giants left behind only the bones of their dead. Scientists named the Giants dinosaurs and foolishly dated our own world by them. Sometime later a very small but strange planet only caught a tiny corner of our world leaving behind a pair of duckbilled platypuses, a joke of nature on both planets as it turns out.<br />
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Perhaps one of the most frightening passes was when a planet, dying from over population, left behind thousands of the offending creatures. How I shudder at what almost became of our beautiful earth. We all owe our lives to the brave, stupid yet brave birds that first began to consume bugs. Alas, it’s still their intent to overcome this world but fortunately they are small to us.<br />
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Now as I stare up into the heavens a they twinkle in just such a manner, a chill runs up my spin as they seem to whisper, an invisible giant is headed your way, only after the passing will you know how your world has changed. <br />
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mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-88199114200350578862012-08-28T05:49:00.001-07:002012-08-28T05:49:44.083-07:00Hope, Faith, and CharityHow Hope met Faith, and the subsequent advent of Charity.<br />
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Hope new there was someone special out there for him. He just didn’t know where.<br />
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He struggled to do more than stare at the stars and dream of the day he would find her.<br />
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One day that star looked down on Faith and told her just who Hope was. Faith got up and started searching. <br />
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At last Faith found Hope and smiled upon him. Hope looked up at Faith and knew she was the right one.<br />
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Faith and Hope were soon married and found themselves going on adventures. Hope would dream and Faith would lead and together they went everywhere. <br />
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One night, after seeing the sadness’ of the World, Hope prayed for the power to help all those in need. That night he dreamed of a child, a gift to all the world, He would succor all their needs and brake the torturer’s hold. <br />
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Soon Faith brought forth a child handsome and strong. They named him Charity. <br />
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Now they roamed together. Hope would dream of where to go, Faith would get them there, and Charity, their gorgeous child, would lift all around with His loving care.<br />
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mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-72673513562230031232012-08-27T20:15:00.002-07:002012-08-27T20:15:29.381-07:00Hmmm....So, no posts for a long while. I see. Well, I can tell I've been terribly missed by the Anonymous advertisers that are constantly sending me comments, reminding me that I have a blog. A blog, a blog. <br />
<br />
You know, once I said I was a writer. That I couldn't;t breath if I wasn't writing. And well, I guess that's true. My writing has never ceased. Though its' content has been purely functional... okay not purely. My pride has over come this trend on occasion. But the "writer" in me is all but dead.<br />
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It started when I left on my mission. I was at my peek and writing like mad. Then I put that aside for the Lord and have never really been able to recover it.<br />
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Well, the Prophet said don't let anyone tell you you can't. Recently someone, politely, suggested... I wouldn't want to. I want to say, "You don't understand, it's like breathing!" but it's not anymore. So here's my goal. To write. To write till my muscles get long and lean and beautiful and words fall from my pen like liquid gold pooling in a shimmering puddle of light and substance.<br />
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We shall see what we shall see.mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-26996410495427574282012-02-02T13:31:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:14:53.329-08:00Will I Still Love Him When He’s Gone Bald?<div>I know that now<br />Is the time to chose my Prince.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFPDS8Z8s9CcwS5GlU8jn8Z2mWqoE4eALxO82RpAjSkykJb_jgTVN0tY2MynYlzvgdkUWaUo5zzlPBdzcGlCj2KB_MtNDgcEw8mmBpJkxIMdcArkvhyFn6taauiEY16ff5nEo/s1600/prince+carming.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 186px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704655867340268322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFPDS8Z8s9CcwS5GlU8jn8Z2mWqoE4eALxO82RpAjSkykJb_jgTVN0tY2MynYlzvgdkUWaUo5zzlPBdzcGlCj2KB_MtNDgcEw8mmBpJkxIMdcArkvhyFn6taauiEY16ff5nEo/s200/prince+carming.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>But sometimes I look<br />And just have to wince.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSgkYX_YvVTW6vsxe_mKj7v8LxnMchseg6DuhgPwjuJZytAm3zhuYqmoqfNLcgCG2EJoSuJz6YoWDrcLazwY_AAa9c8Eo8ua_Ey0sgwHmfcwjcm9ifCnzL-3luX0f8kdj4rWm/s1600/wince.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 87px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704655866004377634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSgkYX_YvVTW6vsxe_mKj7v8LxnMchseg6DuhgPwjuJZytAm3zhuYqmoqfNLcgCG2EJoSuJz6YoWDrcLazwY_AAa9c8Eo8ua_Ey0sgwHmfcwjcm9ifCnzL-3luX0f8kdj4rWm/s200/wince.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>All joking aside<br />I just want to know<br /></div><br /><br /><div>Will I still love him when he’s gone bald?<br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OkUT44szPAIbRfgP-3vJvGn9Dvn1YlNH6iG_MtOP9WCwBkct5ZpaUv9jslwCtESpBkevyyzDOZ0oMwMPXTMF1t95bQah9Z3v3xlStLPCpzFdbvGYF3bWOS0u7PioI3YqeDPV/s1600/going+bald.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704655864649232354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OkUT44szPAIbRfgP-3vJvGn9Dvn1YlNH6iG_MtOP9WCwBkct5ZpaUv9jslwCtESpBkevyyzDOZ0oMwMPXTMF1t95bQah9Z3v3xlStLPCpzFdbvGYF3bWOS0u7PioI3YqeDPV/s200/going+bald.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>What about age spots?<br />If his nose grows TOO big!?<br /><br /><br />What if he’s unfaithful?<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>What if he breaks my heart?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8XvDXpZTwR-80AWnIUI0nvfXZm2dC5l-eN_IEoUP2gaCguyndBfAlhlKkDFVJbaSa8YdNs0bF84fPY9Kf4R8MLIX2OS5ruZYuAGyTx2wPfwv0CeGL1wocn7fx-Hm942C9B1X/s1600/cheating.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 186px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 139px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704656796739685602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8XvDXpZTwR-80AWnIUI0nvfXZm2dC5l-eN_IEoUP2gaCguyndBfAlhlKkDFVJbaSa8YdNs0bF84fPY9Kf4R8MLIX2OS5ruZYuAGyTx2wPfwv0CeGL1wocn7fx-Hm942C9B1X/s200/cheating.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />What if my children<br />Have no one to look to<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2ugZYpH5Lx9TiYgeHepQVFwjvs3kQuoHFo39_WrFwdiLk4QABL5DVXfaHl28Szr65eGZiBXG2YfLMnZB-NV6Z9vFpd_gCM8bWxECOnhst_J2nRdfAidmIU6O2i6ER_aJ9o7Z/s1600/children.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 198px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 131px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704660133270539618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2ugZYpH5Lx9TiYgeHepQVFwjvs3kQuoHFo39_WrFwdiLk4QABL5DVXfaHl28Szr65eGZiBXG2YfLMnZB-NV6Z9vFpd_gCM8bWxECOnhst_J2nRdfAidmIU6O2i6ER_aJ9o7Z/s200/children.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>For blessings and baptisms </div><br /><div>And dancing at their weddings?<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>What if he’s lazy? After the dating is over…<br />How can I KNOW he’ll be there to grow old?<br />What if he doesn’t love me?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5SthyphenhyphenF1G3epraUOClCh2obVKmCdSpmsXQrmRjNihgDcR0md2YsbESnGXCSyQer3eJzHAd2vFIAIeJW-BcOiRhirh8n_nJiGTlmLWJfrRysebta15Lm5vvejIlS74CcFimjlD/s1600/broken+heart.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704656791643414162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5SthyphenhyphenF1G3epraUOClCh2obVKmCdSpmsXQrmRjNihgDcR0md2YsbESnGXCSyQer3eJzHAd2vFIAIeJW-BcOiRhirh8n_nJiGTlmLWJfrRysebta15Lm5vvejIlS74CcFimjlD/s200/broken+heart.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My dear young friend…<br />Let me assure you there’s hope to be had<br />Of love that lasts forever<br />And great fathers and Granddads. </div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtFjL7qH9X3_wukoVgLpH-suyPy-wyjqTb642jMX0L6d6dWH_NspHchslIOP7p4M2yex-m1qDoyMlE4Vk1a72Ha4rl_YiOwKwxzA3JNQU4WGC_uXOZrXWIi2C9yqRth7Jd5oK/s1600/men.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 184px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704663830728342562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtFjL7qH9X3_wukoVgLpH-suyPy-wyjqTb642jMX0L6d6dWH_NspHchslIOP7p4M2yex-m1qDoyMlE4Vk1a72Ha4rl_YiOwKwxzA3JNQU4WGC_uXOZrXWIi2C9yqRth7Jd5oK/s200/men.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>How can you be sure, he’s the right one for you?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB6QGtGjTw-QWvA7cJNJ5zGtwoN-Cn6sKziRb1Eig6XYnypdB-I6gVO_UeKF0QV6rYpnh0doCzEFqrRLkc0Tqz6gv1VxEFnbvSegAdWHXCgu0w7AVZqT9C9OJfkcoy6eK0R3O/s1600/which.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 120px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704663832547821618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB6QGtGjTw-QWvA7cJNJ5zGtwoN-Cn6sKziRb1Eig6XYnypdB-I6gVO_UeKF0QV6rYpnh0doCzEFqrRLkc0Tqz6gv1VxEFnbvSegAdWHXCgu0w7AVZqT9C9OJfkcoy6eK0R3O/s200/which.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I would go get my list but I’ve found not to bother.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsstITkHnL-Mni1xHksjfWP6GjgVjlz9vJkorgc7kb9VVWiV_PcZXvirb3v2Mucx6LTiu4rk9LfU2TVDHJQ6TxTWWsNoXcpxNu0io46UtE7yBpdokmRn-8adgt4K8o30O3KIe/s1600/list.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704663826915107874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsstITkHnL-Mni1xHksjfWP6GjgVjlz9vJkorgc7kb9VVWiV_PcZXvirb3v2Mucx6LTiu4rk9LfU2TVDHJQ6TxTWWsNoXcpxNu0io46UtE7yBpdokmRn-8adgt4K8o30O3KIe/s200/list.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Love may come in any corner and the list goes out the window.<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When chosing a mate<br />Just two things I would mention,<br />First and formost, are you worth the bother?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpA8V1CBIpGES2KXCHe5F71Q2iT2D3Lqy85ZT1642mLXHnwEOBF6ZY4zqYeOfaEkk-ILew17r9Y37rWLifOXaL86ebZ70fZ_Io32lZ-n2g3CCBr_xK3oyNvmJ6LiRf47OwzZn/s1600/worthwhile.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 155px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704658677728530786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpA8V1CBIpGES2KXCHe5F71Q2iT2D3Lqy85ZT1642mLXHnwEOBF6ZY4zqYeOfaEkk-ILew17r9Y37rWLifOXaL86ebZ70fZ_Io32lZ-n2g3CCBr_xK3oyNvmJ6LiRf47OwzZn/s200/worthwhile.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Make the most of yourself and you’ll find you can’t stand<br />those who would not be the greatest of men.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div>Second is a trick that served me well<br />What he’s doing now is the easiest way to tell<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi380ZiQfV3iyXreq2qOxHy8CugIbaFiAakdxH2H1VW_3LBJNkD2M2VCvu2F1XkfPrAIwxihrBINeJ04g16dqScNKIlbz0D6rvbNzUzWILuzjn8OQIIkGM-K_5jUa7NINd-yt0N/s1600/doing+now.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 152px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 135px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704658672213244418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi380ZiQfV3iyXreq2qOxHy8CugIbaFiAakdxH2H1VW_3LBJNkD2M2VCvu2F1XkfPrAIwxihrBINeJ04g16dqScNKIlbz0D6rvbNzUzWILuzjn8OQIIkGM-K_5jUa7NINd-yt0N/s200/doing+now.jpg" /></a><br /><br />What he’ll be doing years from now</div><br /><div>Ask him why and who he is.<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Don’t dream of something greater and tack it on to him.<br /></div><br /><div><br />How will you know if you’ll love him when he’s bald?<br />Why that’s the simplest of all<br />You’ll love and be attracted to the man whom you chose<br />Our desire dictates eye sight<br />Now hearken to this truth.<br />Once you’ve chosen and he’s yours<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-PONdpySwQ81G2cPhR4TNaBSUdiaYKTlKcClRmpiRLlcGfPENB85IUH9LM-EB4UnSJfLs_u3hwFW9qAtq8lkKecr6F8MHxwZSWlUuXl363-dAtHw6fwgnVqQmxtNSoDZmbMP/s1600/together.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 116px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704660137218930898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-PONdpySwQ81G2cPhR4TNaBSUdiaYKTlKcClRmpiRLlcGfPENB85IUH9LM-EB4UnSJfLs_u3hwFW9qAtq8lkKecr6F8MHxwZSWlUuXl363-dAtHw6fwgnVqQmxtNSoDZmbMP/s200/together.jpg" /></a><br /><br />You must never forget<br />He is your Prince and the best one you’ll get.<br />So chose to love him chose to find<br />Him attractive body and mind<br /></div><br /><div><br />In the end you’ll find old age<br />Is pleasantest with the one who helped you turn the future’s page.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5LZyvI_V3hIjHKxDBsDjAbhJbjNOhZRrwmzw-W2tsp-B9FtIEwKA-EoiDTJsAih0U_wbP3w4XyYdI4gmaA-joFIOPeYZYg1PeBC_UGg-uk7Uo-Z3ykcihsgHtBhTwALrQt7Oa/s1600/forever+family.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 126px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 83px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704660133113390722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5LZyvI_V3hIjHKxDBsDjAbhJbjNOhZRrwmzw-W2tsp-B9FtIEwKA-EoiDTJsAih0U_wbP3w4XyYdI4gmaA-joFIOPeYZYg1PeBC_UGg-uk7Uo-Z3ykcihsgHtBhTwALrQt7Oa/s200/forever+family.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvn3Ag4SiF6ATYy9QVvrvc1nlR8IUhz4_PBSSM7FDVG-Qt3WUlFdR3-kIMJ_IhTZRfZT6qCOCJr2AfYbcD4MLK2M6McWw4HMgzftADMlwLv7IXfVciL1Vci3rY-Z_zB11Wm7K/s1600/oldcouple.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 125px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704660898665988066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvn3Ag4SiF6ATYy9QVvrvc1nlR8IUhz4_PBSSM7FDVG-Qt3WUlFdR3-kIMJ_IhTZRfZT6qCOCJr2AfYbcD4MLK2M6McWw4HMgzftADMlwLv7IXfVciL1Vci3rY-Z_zB11Wm7K/s200/oldcouple.jpg" /></a> </div></div></div>mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-91892980569234552302011-12-22T12:28:00.000-08:002016-03-18T15:30:34.584-07:00Angel<div>
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Tommy took the ornament out of the little box and carelessly swung it from its hanger placing it in a very convenient spot at the bottom of the tree.<br />
“Tomas Daren Parks! You give me that ornament right this minute!” Grandma’s voice was almost frantic. Putting up her tree wasn’t Tommy’s idea of a great weekend, especially when there was a new layer of snow on the mountain just waiting for him and his snow board. Now she had to go and get picky too. Since his mother’s death a few months ago everything sucked but his snowboard, especially living with his Grandma while his dad was AWOL.<br />
“Here you go.” He handed his Grandma the old trinket and turned to the next item. He pulled out an intricate blub wrapped carefully in tissue paper. He carefully placed it high up in a prominent spot and turned to smile at his Grandma.<br />
The old woman did not look up. She didn’t acknowledge his carefulness with the apparently prized object. She merely sat looking at the piece in her hands with tears running down her wrinkled cheeks. For the first time Tommy really looked at what his Grandma held. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMUr4Vqdl3xw2206s_g66FB8c2Jt70dzJTwEnetpgvU6BxKm_xkh_m_3PKZmSNRY1jnCQD6Ytu_i3YfC_e0bebC95sYbVrtn8AL344LLsrlj7juZGVOXJrQQrFD5kucuoqwwk/s1600/angel+ornament.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689062445501413122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMUr4Vqdl3xw2206s_g66FB8c2Jt70dzJTwEnetpgvU6BxKm_xkh_m_3PKZmSNRY1jnCQD6Ytu_i3YfC_e0bebC95sYbVrtn8AL344LLsrlj7juZGVOXJrQQrFD5kucuoqwwk/s320/angel+ornament.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 250px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 250px;" /></a><br />
It wasn’t large or even fancy, really it looked like a school day craft. It was an angel made out of shells with what looked like a little fake pearl was glued inside. There really wasn’t anything spectacular about it. And his Grandma was even known to take angels wings off for her decorations.<br />
“Grandma?”<br />
“One shell for every summer he took us to the beach.”<br />
“Huh?”<br />
The old woman looked up and smiled at her Grandson. “Did you know my father was a traveling sales man?”<br />
Tommy chewed the inside of his cheek and looked out the window at the fresh powder. “Sure Grandma. What’s next?”</div>
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Grandma took the hint and placed her hand over the treasure gently and pointed to another box in the corner. “You can put those out on the counter and then we’re done.” She opened her hands and looked down again. “You don’t mind if I remaniss while you’re at it, do you?”<br />
Tommy shook his head slicing the box open quickly. One more box, some cookies, and service project over!<br />
“When I was a little girl my father came home about once a month. It was a wonderful time. My mother would dress up in her one nice dress and he’d take us out on the town. How we’d laugh and dance the night away. They held hands and whispered secret jokes to one another. Of course he called to say goodnight every night but when he was home we were all so happy. Then he’d leave and my mother would turn grey and empty again. She was a good mother but we were both lonely. There was one place we were always happy. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbeVdMyZJE0jjX8thBeIzELs4_sO3jQiCFszM-_Fzqlmu4nZoNo-yq5uZKh-x3U9BhS_2TLigQuM2gNfsLJp-AZcb5cOuHhZyKbChd1UzP9vJsj-hxQjxDkpw9_G3OE0rYGqa/s1600/family.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689060178139451506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbeVdMyZJE0jjX8thBeIzELs4_sO3jQiCFszM-_Fzqlmu4nZoNo-yq5uZKh-x3U9BhS_2TLigQuM2gNfsLJp-AZcb5cOuHhZyKbChd1UzP9vJsj-hxQjxDkpw9_G3OE0rYGqa/s320/family.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 198px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 254px;" /></a><br />
At the sea. My father took us there for summer vacation. One whole month of walking sandy shores and collecting wonderful treasures. We were so happy on those long warm days. Five summers we did this and I would keep the most perfect shell each time. See.” She held up the ornament for Tommy to see. He looked and nodded. “We were about to leave and I knew the long days of loneliness would soon consume me again. So I ran away.” Tommy stopped mid- teddy bear and looked at his Grandma.</div>
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“You ran away?”<br />
“Wouldn’t you?”<br />
“No, I mean at least you had parents, right?”<br />
“I felt like I only truly had them at the beach.”<br />
“So how’d they find you?”<br />
“They didn’t. She did.” Grandma held up the angel beaming at it.<br />
“Right.” Tommy once again wondered about his Grandma’s sanity.<br />
Grandma frowned, “You are full of things to do but you do not know what you have.” She wagged an aged finger at him, “There’s more to life and being happy than sports and friends.”<br />
Tommy wanted to chuck the ceramic bear at her but he slammed it down instead and just kept unpacking the stupid box. All his friends were back at his home, he had nothing but sports.<br />
“If I stayed on the beach,” she finally continued in a small pleading sort of voice, “my parents would stay and then I could watch them from afar and know that they were happy. At first I headed to a cave I knew of near the shore, but the tide was up and the cave was unreachable, so I went futher down the shore. At first I thought it was my mother’s voice calling me, so I ran. But, instead of getting away from the voice, I only got closer, until coming around a rock I saw her standing on rocks bright and beautiful.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmD8benZ__KH9xD0UMaubnJRE-S08NsDrfkTv9S6duvTwdInZbzMZYcznHBdGnwc-nv07wk-N8P5JxCRkUzWCfkB9alZJEqInDBPZGpqD3s3dTkA7E6PLJkvn7xe051gG0igd/s1600/angel.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689060170044568770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmD8benZ__KH9xD0UMaubnJRE-S08NsDrfkTv9S6duvTwdInZbzMZYcznHBdGnwc-nv07wk-N8P5JxCRkUzWCfkB9alZJEqInDBPZGpqD3s3dTkA7E6PLJkvn7xe051gG0igd/s320/angel.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 191px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 264px;" /></a><br />
She shone like sunshine and her face looked out to sea as sad and as miserable as I felt. Just around her the night melted away into day. She called my name without looking at me and waved for me to join her. I crawled up the rock and sat down next to her feeling a comfortable warmth right next to her. ‘You shouldn’t run away.’ She said finally looking at me. She looked so much like my mother but it wasn’t her. I told her I had to. It was the only way for my parents to be happy. ‘You running away won’t make them happy, it will ruin everything.’ She reached down and dipped her hand in the water and pulled out a beautiful shell and opened it. Inside was what looked like a giant pearl. In its surface I could see my parents searching the shore and finding a cold wet body empty and devoid of life with my bow in its hair. I could see my mother and my father sitting with empty eyes and arms as they grew old without any child to fill them. ‘But,’ her voice sang out in the night air, ‘If you go home and live the life you were given,’ once again the scene in the pearl shifted and I saw my father, mother, and myself around the Christmas tree as he told us he’d gotten a job two blocks away and he wouldn’t be leaving anymore. I saw us moving to the sea shore and living happily there for many years. Then I saw children who had yet to be born gathering around myself and a handsome man I latter met and married. Then I saw you grandchildren. I even saw you and your mother the first time she took you sledding.” <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBL14mX4OJl_eV3TZ2ccymArSDi0wy5tpOjVv1_A0gx2eSs0uQjcnKmFkiRGzJcwsXTFjrA_yLcjsfAhnsPIcVR4HFlWz5Rpx-6Ve8xKSIeURX7ixGfe0ZjmDSNLcb5o5VQMpI/s1600/mother+sonsledding.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689062444713915698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBL14mX4OJl_eV3TZ2ccymArSDi0wy5tpOjVv1_A0gx2eSs0uQjcnKmFkiRGzJcwsXTFjrA_yLcjsfAhnsPIcVR4HFlWz5Rpx-6Ve8xKSIeURX7ixGfe0ZjmDSNLcb5o5VQMpI/s320/mother+sonsledding.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 183px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 276px;" /></a></div>
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Grandma sighed. </div>
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Tommy waited patiently fidgeting with the last figurine. Finally he asked, “So that’s it?”<br />
“Almost. She told me to never give up because my life was better lived than run away from and she kissed me and told me she loved me. I went home and it all happened just as I saw. Then one Christmas I noticed my jewelry box had been ransacked and all that was missing were my shells. I asked about it and your mother handed me a small wrapped present saying she had meant to save it for Christmas. I opened it and found this.” She looked down at the angel cradled in her hands. “I had never told anyone about the angel by the sea but she had even found a little pearl and glued it in the shells.” Grandma stood painstakingly slow and walked over to Tommy. She took his hand and slowly placed the small ornament in his hand. “Did I ever tell you how much your mother looked and sounded like my mother? What a life she lived.” She closed his hand over the object. “I think she is your angel now.” <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0PKERjTDpr1CZ_bqYKwVZE6Yw4XMgKdv1QE8YeSiPmGcvztfRh5uZpWsmz1OhHzNZm-q_cfVIRfMCh2OikkWG17AGtf1pVEonfXhqXjA0jEYj8oAMkrtcSPt4jZYRPg3QDG8m/s1600/Angel_Holding_Man.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689060167539491650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0PKERjTDpr1CZ_bqYKwVZE6Yw4XMgKdv1QE8YeSiPmGcvztfRh5uZpWsmz1OhHzNZm-q_cfVIRfMCh2OikkWG17AGtf1pVEonfXhqXjA0jEYj8oAMkrtcSPt4jZYRPg3QDG8m/s320/Angel_Holding_Man.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 285px;" /></a></div>
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mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-53917758441293037782011-12-12T17:04:00.000-08:002011-12-12T21:26:19.509-08:00Idea for how to make the ending better? Ideas for names?<div><img src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTwW8DEPw9ZKblHoRmaBICUeRrIa6xnc4yjhwAw2hgKgm3D7fEV" /><br />I’<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">ve</span> seen ‘em all. Every kind of low life out there has been<br />through this court and I’m the lucky man who gets to hustle ‘em through.<br />That night though, was different. I knew each of the players<br />intimately.<br />Three men stood in line waiting for their cases to be<br />brought up. The court appointed attorney stood at his desk going over his notes<br />until at last the judge appeared and then finally looked up and nodded in camaraderie<br />toward his father. I knew this judge to be a good man with six sons the oldest<br />of whom sat behind the desk. On the other side of the aisle the prosecution glared.<br />It seemed an obvious violation of propriety to have the favorite son of the<br />judge as the defense, but it was even worse when you knew that the prosecution was<br />also the judges son, although they had had a falling out years ago and were now<br />estranged outside the court room. If you <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">didn</span>’t know them you might think<br />something funny was going on, but everyone knew justice would be the end<br />result.<br />I lead the first man in and shut the door on the other two.<br />How I pitied the poor man. He rung his hands and wiped his sweat from his brow<br />with his shoulder. I could tell from his demeanor he knew neither his attorney<br />nor the judge. The prosecution nodded at him with a knowing smile. So the case<br />began.<br />“Please state the offence.” The judge said matter-of-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">factly</span>.<br />The defense attorney stood and stated sadly looking at the<br />client. “I have tried to get this man to come in and confer with me but I have<br />not seen him until this moment and I have never been give the proper authority to<br />defend him.” Then sitting back down he looked at the defendant expectantly and<br />the man shakily stood. The story was simple though difficult to understand between<br />‘um’s and nervous clearing of throats. He seemed to take no thought for<br />defending himself. He threw himself on the mercy of the court, his eyes ever<br />darting back to the prosecution who watched with relish the man who knew he had<br />been caught and only hoped for a lessened sentence. He plea closed and he fell<br />into his seat with much trembling. The prosecution looked at his notes and<br />simply nodded at the judge who then looked at his other son and sighed. The fine,<br />though strictly appropriate for the offence, was as lenient as possible. The<br />man cried out. He obviously <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">couldn</span>’t pay it, but there was nothing the court<br />could do. He was ushered out of the room and I retrieved the next offender.<br />How he irritated me. He wore a look of confidence and a suit<br />that said money. Under his arm he carried a briefcase the he immediately plopped<br />onto the desk next to the defense’s papers.<br />“Please state the offense.” The judge once again began.<br />Before the attorney could even say a word the defendant<br />stood up and smiled familiarly at the judge. I had never seen this man before<br />yet he seemed to feel completely comfortable here. He began his tale, a surprisingly<br />similar case to the man who had come before him. He looked at the defense attorney<br />and began to sight case where, having done his research, he had gotten men off<br />for similar and worse cases. He knew that his attorney would not only get him<br />off but he would do it without leaving a mark on the man’s record. He sat down<br />and looked at his attorney expectantly.<br />That’s when I noticed the smirk on the prosecution’s face.<br />He already knew the case was his. The defense stood up and merely stated, “This<br />man has never set foot in my office. I cannot represent this man as he has never<br />given me either leave or signatures to do so.” And without another word the man<br />sat down.<br />The prosecution stood and caught the attention of the defendant<br />for the first time. For a moment the man looked confused. Then as recognition<br />spread across his face, I knew where the man had gotten his slightly skewed<br />information on the cases the man had sighted. The two brothers looked somewhat similar<br />and the prosecution used the similarity to his advantage. He often brought defendants into<br />an office with the defences name on the door, convincing them they were working with their lawyer. They went through all the paper work and preparing a very flawed defence for their case.<br />The prosecution smoothly pointed out every flaw to the man’s<br />defense, the flaws he had carefully woven in himself, and declared the need for<br />a severe punishment. The proud man now lay with his head in his hands, his body<br />beginning to tremble. The judge shook his head and once again pronounced a fine.<br />It was more severe than the first but after finding out the other items the prosecution<br />brought out it seemed a light judgment. Still, the man declared that he could<br />never pay the full sum. The man was escorted from the room shaking his fists at<br />the prosecution and screaming the memorized cases that did not apply to his<br />case.<br />I walked out to the last man. He sat calmly waiting his eyes<br />never leaving his defense attorney through the glass. “This way sir.” I<br />motioned and he followed.<br />As he approached the attorney’s desk he reached out and<br />accepted the hand proffered him. The attorney pulled him into an embrace and<br />whispered something in the man’s ears. He nodded gravely and took his seat.<br />“Please state the offence.” The judge said for the last<br />time.<br />This time the defendant did not stand. The man said nothing<br />but the defense attorney stood and began the tale. The situation was once again<br />much like the two before, but it went further. “Once he had realized what had<br />gone wrong he came to me and began to work things out your honor. I can<br />personally vouch for his hard work and dedication. He has made full restitution<br />and has put in community time to teach others how to walk away from these<br />activities. He is now legally in my employ as a worker for the court.”<br />The defense sat down and the prosecution stood. The anger on<br />his face was evident but he kept himself in check. “Your honor, what the defense<br />claims may be true but the price for the violation still remains to be paid.<br />Just because you favor my opponent and his buddies does not mean justice may be<br />ignored.”<br />The judge nodded and declared the fine and the man looked<br />stricken. It was obvious from the look of him that he had no such sums. Then<br />the prosecution stood looked at the document with a pen poised. “I have been appointed<br />this man’s defense and he has worked with me to make restitution, I will pay<br />his fine.” And with that he crossed out the man’s name and signed his own<br />taking on him both the punishment and the crime onto his record. The man behind<br />the desk burst into tears and the prosecution lost control and shouted in his<br />brother’s face until he was taken from the room at the defense’s request. Then<br />I watched as the man embraced the prosecution and thanked the Judge. Then he<br />looked once more at his attorney and said “I can never repay that amount.”<br />“That’s alright,” The good man smiled, “You give me your<br />best, little brother, and it will be well worth it.”<br />As I locked up that night I thought about my other three<br />brothers, one behind each carried out in the clutches of justice and then the<br />other two who now stood discussing another case with our father moving forward<br />with a work of freedom and mercy. Just like me. I had had my day in court and<br />because of mercy, now I stand on the side of justice.</div><div><img src="http://www.oneonta.edu/faculty/farberas/arth/Images/ARTH_214images/Durer/durer_last_judgment.jpg" /><br />(PS Not sure I like the picture... does no one have a painting of Heavenly Father in Judgment with Christ as the advocate and Satan as the accuser?)</div>mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-23535022485326987422011-11-24T11:04:00.000-08:002011-11-24T11:06:32.878-08:00Top 4 Thankful1: The plan<br />2: Knowledge of the plan<br />3: Partisipating in the plan<br />4: The chance to share knowledge of the planmEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-56528495306209226832011-11-03T14:40:00.000-07:002011-11-03T14:54:38.383-07:00The Tartus (Backwards)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04h5VrhjcaOu9BTaUDNFISot5ABEdPyAypA_iWppaPr7duaGIuewNGngDxpwa7Mfax4CDny5z0iHk5VmlCI7aZ85BsscXrQT6SnEHD-GqH212J8BgUX_QiCrZGuUW5RN-h8Q1/s1600/victorian-couple-on-beach.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670891060606050834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04h5VrhjcaOu9BTaUDNFISot5ABEdPyAypA_iWppaPr7duaGIuewNGngDxpwa7Mfax4CDny5z0iHk5VmlCI7aZ85BsscXrQT6SnEHD-GqH212J8BgUX_QiCrZGuUW5RN-h8Q1/s320/victorian-couple-on-beach.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Samantha finished the last word with a flourish of her pen immensely pleased with her creation. The azure blue sky stretched on for miles with delightful seagulls passing unseen across her field of view. She smiled setting the pen and paper to her side and scanning the shore line for her husband. Two days ago he had unknowingly hurled the insult again, but now he would change his tune.<br />“Mark!, Oh Mark!” She almost sang it out.<br />Mark appeared from behind a sand dune several yards away, a look of hope on his face. Two days ago she had suddenly taken to writing non-stop and had refused to even acknowledge his presence. It was not the way he had intended to spend his all too brief vacation. “Yes dear?”<br />“Come, read this.” Samantha responded holding out a thick stack of papers.<br />With a bound and a leap he reached her side and eagerly began to read.<br />Samantha hugged her knees imagining the praise and astonishment he would express upon finishing her first novel. Of course it wasn’t prefect but she had always known she was more than just a short story writer no matter what others said. She frowned, with that many pages she would need to give him time. She looked over at him his eyes hastily running across the pages. She had thought it would be interesting but his eyes seemed to fly at an astonishing rate. She smiled and looked back out at the sea, it was even better than she had thought.<br />She stood up and dusted off the back of her dress just as he burst out in laughter. She turned excitedly wondering where he was and what he had found so funny. Only to see he was closing the last page.<br />“That was your best story so far Love!” He said with a grin and a chuckle.<br />“You’ve already finished?” She asked in horror.<br />He starred warily at her unsure of where her mood was turning or what he was doing to turn it. “Yes,” he said finally, “It was very good though.”<br />Samantha snatched the pile of papers from him. “Not even you can read a whole novel that fast.”<br />“A novel?” Mark grabbed the papers back before she could tighten her grip. He flipped quickly through the pages again, his frown deepening. “I’ll grant it’s longer than usual but it’s no novel. Maybe five pages.”<br />Samantha felt like ripping the pages up and throwing them in his face.<br />“I can count as well as you can and even a blind man from the top of that cliff can see that there are much more than five pages there!”<br />“Yes,” he acknowledged slowly looking up at his wife. She glared back and he almost didn’t dare the reply but like a seagull on attack the words slipped out carrying a grin to tug at the corners of his mouth. “But usually you don’t want me to read the parts you’ve crossed out.” </div>mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-23390044563731881472011-10-13T11:54:00.000-07:002011-10-13T11:55:48.715-07:00TOO MANY PUPPIES!(Well it didn't do the pictures but you get the idea)<br /><br />“It is time for bed” Mommy said.<br /><br /> <br />Tori said, “Puppy!”<br /><br /><br />“How many puppies?” <br /><br /> <br />“One red puppy.”<br /><br /><br />“It is time for bed,” Mommy said.<br /> <br />Emma said, “Puppy!”<br /><br />“How many puppies?”<br /><br /> <br />“Two pink puppies.”<br /> <br />“It is time for bed,” Mommy said.<br /> <br />Ryn said, “Puppy!”<br /><br />“How many puppies?” <br /><br /> <br />“Three brown puppies.”<br /> <br />“It is time for bed,” Mommy said.<br /> <br />Tori said, “Puppy!”<br /><br />“How many puppies?”<br /><br /> “Four black and white puppies.”<br /> <br />“It is time for bed,” Mommy said.<br /> <br />Emma said, “Puppy!”<br /><br />“How many puppies?”<br /><br /> <br />“Five yellow puppies.”<br /><br />“It is time for bed,” Mommy said.<br /> <br />Ryn said, “Puppy!”<br /><br /> “TOO MANY PUPPIES! “mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-2185420525141874712011-09-26T21:34:00.000-07:002011-09-26T21:35:06.553-07:00My first kissI know sappy but here goes…<br />I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t kiss until I was engaged. I didn’t watch kissing on movies or anything. I was saving that part of my life for my chosen. Not that I didn’t have some request and even try to coerce me into kissing them first but it never felt right! Until one night, in cousin Carl’s basement, I was sitting with my boyfriend and I decided it felt right. I brushed my lips against his to let him know I was ready. And you know what… it was worth the wait. I never know kisses could be sweet but they can. We weren’t engaged yet so I didn’t quiet keep my goal (but he refused to propose until we had the rings which didn’t show up until a week before the wedding). But he was my chosen and his kisses have only gotten better with time.mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-15198246663001723552011-09-20T14:40:00.001-07:002016-03-18T15:19:00.598-07:00Mrs. Anderson’s Welcoming PartyIt’s hard to say, unless you’re one of those who can say anything, just what Tabitha meant by walking in and taking tea out from under everyone's noses but the result was something of an exaggerated mess. Mrs. Tallborn stood up immediately and walked out, sniffing as though her feelings had been so hurt that tears were already brimming. Miss. Talous, always seeking her next charity, leaned over and set her cake back on the table. “My dear, if you are in any way in need,” <br />
But I was saved having to answer such an obserd question in a delicate way by Mrs. Smith laughing loudly, “If I had known that is all it takes to get rid of that priss, I’d have told my maid to start taking the tea out early years ago!” <br />
Poor Mrs. Anderson, who had just moved to the area as a new bride, still sat staring blankly at her empty cup obviously unsure of what to do with it or herself. <br />
“Now Mrs. Anderson,” Mrs. Smith called across the table as though she were on the other side of a foot ball field, what can you expect when the woman lives with her practically deaf mother? “You drink right up! No one is as well to do as Mrs. Gifford here. Not in the whole state!”<br />
I’m afraid to say I began to blush, my husband’s wealth is something we try very hard not to broadcast, but Mrs. Smith’s husband is our accountant and a much less discreet person. I sputtered a few words trying to think of a way to go find out what Tabitha had done with the tea tray. <br />
However that’s when Miss Talous added her sniff to the scene. “Well, I guess if you are unwilling to share with even your friends, why should you be expected to share with those who are in need?” And with that she got up and left the room. It all went back to last month when she asked for a contribution and I had only promised to discuss it with my husband. <br />
Mrs. Smith laughed again, “Two down! Now this is company.” She looked at poor Mrs. Anderson who seemed to be perpetually mute and frozen staring at an empty tea cup. “Now don’t believe a word of it my dear. That woman wouldn’t have one of her charities if it weren't for Mrs. Gifford’s anonymous donations.”<br />
“Mrs. Smith that is enough!” It came out of my mouth before I could catch it but REALLY she was going to lose her husband a client if this kept up. <br />
That’s when Mrs. Smith got up. “Well, it’s the truth and I won’t be chastised for telling the truth.” She turned and slipped profanities all the way down the hall. <br />
I turned to my last and most important guest. She was not only new to the area but also married to a man that traveled much for his work leaving her alone months at a time. I had hoped to introduce her to her neighbors and the most influential of women in the neighborhood. Now each had made something of a fool of themselves over a little bit of tea, how was she to trust them? <br />
She still looked down at her tea cup as though it might hold the answers to the universes toughest questions. I leaned forward to touch her shoulder and make sure the scene hadn’t disturbed her too much when Mrs. Tallborn soared back into the room followed by Miss Talous and Mrs. Smith. They all stood indignantly at their tallest and Mrs. Tallborn spoke for them all, "Mrs. Anderson would you kindly move your car so that we may all depart this unhospitible home?”<br />
I looked up trying to think of a way to sooth feelings and still wondering what had gotten into Tabitha when the aged maid sontered back into the room carrying the roast beef I had intended for dinner along with several plates. “Here you are Mam.” She smiled as though doing exactly what she had been told. I made a mental note to have her see a doctor.<br />
The three women looked at me dumb founded and I just looked back at them, as silent as our new friend. It didn’t take Mrs. Smith long to recover. “Why Anibell, why didn’t you say this was a luncheon!” She sat right down placing her discarded napkin right back over her ample lap. “It would have saved a whole lot of fuss.”<br />
Mrs. Tallborn took one last sniff and sat down to murmuring something that sounded a bit like ‘I’m terribly sorry.’<br />
Miss. Talous hesitated a bit longer till I waved her with a smile back to the seat in which I had slipped, before the meeting began, a little envelope of money for her charity. She caught up the envelope and gave a wan smile of thanks. <br />
“Ladies, I’m so,” I began only to be cut off.<br />
“Now what must our Dear Mrs. Anderson think of us?! Here we come to show her what great friends we’ll be and instead we show ourselves to be petty little…” She paused and looked at the girl who seemed to prefer her empty tea cup to the roast beef. “My dear, can you ever forgive us?” She reached out a sympathetic hand and touched the girl’s shoulder.<br />
The blond head jerked up with a snort. She blinked rapidly and looked slightly shocked, “I’m awake.” She looked down at the beef in confusion “Did I miss something?”mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-49596488323851352322011-08-25T19:28:00.000-07:002011-08-25T19:29:16.260-07:00<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/74iyORtIRgM?hl=en&fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<br />LEt's see if this works.mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-44287621078776862822011-08-06T22:47:00.000-07:002011-08-06T22:59:40.496-07:00And then it finally Happens!Our little Wren arrived after a month of being told "any minute". Yes, we were told she would probably come early... Nope. But she was worth the wait. She came out screaming but <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">once the</span> nurses handed her over she had nothing but beautiful smiles for us.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrbe-t-Q8O9r4qCh3z3Imxb28K2vkU_e0JLylYDXky0kWweN93auWI3ZY_8jjZI3S-vtN8wXLsnNmAGJYobLMLG-l6XGKGSy1Ct5GG4uzVM-690I9fGppHYEv8fEMD5VcbChl/s1600/P7180299.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637987844546792034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrbe-t-Q8O9r4qCh3z3Imxb28K2vkU_e0JLylYDXky0kWweN93auWI3ZY_8jjZI3S-vtN8wXLsnNmAGJYobLMLG-l6XGKGSy1Ct5GG4uzVM-690I9fGppHYEv8fEMD5VcbChl/s200/P7180299.JPG" /></a><br />Big sisters got to hold her on the second day even though they were both sick. But they were so happy to see little Wren and hold her. (We knew it was a bacterial infection for both of them and not <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">contagious</span>.)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAp_kOc34jA7-0oG-B3AQi4dvm7pOjGHUXvxlBZBM3Ei66QYYRCGuydcI9U2xaPwNtmBoAdhCXE9okuKpJ9E25jdNURCzlHmOFYdPEUzAIzpNMP_DCNlqQyaG70usqOyGuFSk/s1600/P7190309.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637987839646927938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAp_kOc34jA7-0oG-B3AQi4dvm7pOjGHUXvxlBZBM3Ei66QYYRCGuydcI9U2xaPwNtmBoAdhCXE9okuKpJ9E25jdNURCzlHmOFYdPEUzAIzpNMP_DCNlqQyaG70usqOyGuFSk/s200/P7190309.JPG" /></a><br />I have to share this picture. With each of our babies <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Yrgysh</span> has held them on his chest like this early on. He decided that new <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">borns</span> were his little tree frogs so he had me make a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">froggy</span> hat. So this is Daddy and his little tree frog.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyseHxs0aVgJ2ikrNDtlvDYdRdr4_fNIu5p8po0m1jozKrrn8OwqVIFBqseUau3y3xKtVw5miAcY-EokXmhCLzgNXV2oxdsLaY3tFzhu22-drCHOTOD7yH09mZ0i7lyxHVg1LS/s1600/P7310006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637987836930286402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyseHxs0aVgJ2ikrNDtlvDYdRdr4_fNIu5p8po0m1jozKrrn8OwqVIFBqseUau3y3xKtVw5miAcY-EokXmhCLzgNXV2oxdsLaY3tFzhu22-drCHOTOD7yH09mZ0i7lyxHVg1LS/s200/P7310006.JPG" /></a>mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-4508179111767338702011-07-08T09:14:00.000-07:002011-07-08T09:37:48.524-07:00An Expectant Mother's RantHave you ever noticed<br />1) that when your due date aproches every little action is measured as to how it will encourage or discourage labor? (Not helpful)<br />2) that relaxation becomes esentail yet unatainable? (What's up with that? I'm seriously considering tylonol PM)<br />3) That the baby starts to try to get out on their own... unfortunatly it's though your rib cage? (I need to make a light and stick it down there to lead the way out... then she can enter and exit this existence by going down a tunnel toward a bright light.)<br />4) That it feels like someone has the gag button pressed? ("Labor's starting... no itisn't HA!" An hour later "This could be it... NOPE! I can't believe you fell for it again!")<br />5) That waiting for labor seems like a great test of your santity? (You must pass this if you're going to be worthy of raising this child.)<br />6) And finally... that while waiting your brain can come up with some of the stupidest things to do to 'prepare'? (Like chop your hair off, buy lots of stuff, watch old movies you can't stand anymore, watch bad humor in an effort to make yourself laugh, go on hikes, jump on trampolines (no I have not nor will ever jump on a trampoline while pregnant), clean the whole house.... again, and one of my favorites... allow some Dr. to stick their hands up inside of you to tell you how far along you are (not that it will change how long you have to wait) and possibly "help the processes along"? Are you nuts?! You want to do WHAT to my WHAT?!<br />I hope you've laughed. :)mEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03714681575906051741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18803034.post-41538883959526294142011-05-24T10:22:00.001-07:002011-05-24T10:34:01.236-07:00Homeschooling Results: A view of Parental Involvement<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Abstract</span><br /></div><span xmlns=""><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">This paper investigates the success rates of homeschooling as compared to public schooling. Many aspects are looked at such as academics, social and emotional skills, as well as adult outcomes in these and other areas. It then draws on the assumption that parent involvement is different in the two systems and looks at beliefs (e.g. motivation, knowledge, empowerment, and confidence) that would nurture or dissuade that involvement. By comparing public and home schooling, the paper attempts to demonstrate how parents within the public school system may become confused as to their responsibility and role. Conversely, the paper asserts that homeschooling, taken on for the right reasons, empowers parents with an awareness of their role and confidence within it. The paper then argues that if any parent takes the first step of accepting primary responsibility and explores their resources and options, they will then be empowered to work confidently within any educational system.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><em>Keywords: </em>Home school, homeschooling, public school, parental involvement, adult outcomes<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><h1><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Homeschooling Results: A View of Parental Involvement<br /></span></h1><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">It may seem strange to begin a paper on Homeschooling results with a statement about computers; but computer software is much like public schooling, homeschooling, and any other schooling choice. When purchasing a new computer, most consumers use the software immediately available, or the default software, with little or no thought as to the appropriateness of that application to their needs. And, while for the most part it works, there can be moments of frustration when the software doesn't provide the frame work for the needed task. In this country the educational default is the public school system. Anything outside of this framework is often viewed with suspicion or hostility. However, in order to understand if it is working well, the outputs must be compared to the outputs of other systems, and then examined again through differences to discover the "whys" behind those results.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">In comparing the outputs of different educational options, I found that there were two extremes: public schooling and homeschooling. Private schooling outputs most frequently fell in between public and home schooling when included in a study. In this paper, I will discuss only the two extremes, leaving out the other options because comparing two extremes can demonstrate what is needed to succeed within any framework. Just as with software, if you understand the capabilities of the system and are aware of how it works, work within the one that is available with greater success simply or choose one that better fits your desired outputs.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">While most people are acquainted with public school outputs as the "National Averages" most are unaware of what homeschooling outputs and averages are. Therefore, I will go into some detail as to the origins of homeschooling, how the students themselves are performing both in K-12 and afterward as they enter the "real world" as compared to their public schooled counter parts. Working under the assumption that parental involvement is the number one factor predicting schooling success, I will then look at beliefs (e.g. motivation, knowledge, empowerment, confidence) that would nurture or dissuade parental involvement within public and homeschooling. Last I will look at how this information can support the parent in making educated choices about their child's education and be involved at appropriate levels with the system chosen.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>A Brief History</strong><br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Although brief histories of homeschooling are given in most studies on the topic, Ed Collom (2005) gives the most succinct account in his paper "The Ins and Outs of Homeschooling." The following information is shown in Figure 1 (Ray, 2009). Collom points out, by the 1960s public school not only dominated the education scene but was also mandatory. In the late 1960s a small fringe movement began by a political left who believed in a different pedagogy than the traditional schooling system. In the 1980s an unprecedented boom shifted the demographics of this group to the right as Christians began spontaneously homeschooling in large numbers. As popularity grew and peer pressure subsided in the 1990s and 2000s, the movement went from fringe to main stream, growing from 300,000 families in 1990 to well over one million by 2005 (pp. 308-309). Current estimates put the number at almost two million (Ray, 2009).<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Growth of Homeschooling in United States Over the Past 5 Decades<br /></strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsAvMGmx9rs8R_IVTeR0V36ud_OweGrjD2_aV3bWyQjrsuHuQ7xHSZPgf3mr2qUcC53HMo_OLYQ46rCdNYsVBQovu19vP_IBoJb-S2VvwdCvvGoKAijhdL974ew2VGNDz4aQlI/s1600/fig1.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsAvMGmx9rs8R_IVTeR0V36ud_OweGrjD2_aV3bWyQjrsuHuQ7xHSZPgf3mr2qUcC53HMo_OLYQ46rCdNYsVBQovu19vP_IBoJb-S2VvwdCvvGoKAijhdL974ew2VGNDz4aQlI/s200/fig1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610335641791736210" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:10pt;" ><strong>Figure 1. </strong>Homeschooling went from fringe movement to nearing two million in a little less than three decades. (Ray, 2009, p. 2)</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">No longer far left or far right the demographics of homeschooling are continuing to diversify including growing populations of minorities and religious groups across the board (Ray, 2009). In figure 2, we can see that the ethnic demographic are becoming more similar in proportion to the general student population.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Ethnicity of Homeschooled vs. All Students<br /></strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1mX3K0h7axq7RrT-oW5s9VnLcNz1nGfJq3SotnbCOToeaRd3KTS5r07x8hErXoQXLN4idyYIBv3FK_6sECjdAVNZYuk2Zwlj36iYADTpEfBYsVAc12XI0IvRwafVhiy8S5Mc/s1600/fig2.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 90px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1mX3K0h7axq7RrT-oW5s9VnLcNz1nGfJq3SotnbCOToeaRd3KTS5r07x8hErXoQXLN4idyYIBv3FK_6sECjdAVNZYuk2Zwlj36iYADTpEfBYsVAc12XI0IvRwafVhiy8S5Mc/s200/fig2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610335757623211042" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:10pt;" ><strong>Figure 2: </strong>The chart on the left represents the composition of the homeschooling community while the chart on the right represents all U.S. Students per Department of Education 2007 (Ray, 2009).<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Along with growing numbers of homeschoolers came an increasing number of studies to determine effectiveness and reasoning for homeschooling. However, because homeschooling isn't institutionalized, it is very difficult to conduct generalizable studies. As Richard Medlin (2000) points out, there are many studies that are well planned, however a good number run into problems, like low response rates, which make it hard to generalize results of just one study. The one redeeming aspect is the sheer number of studies that have been conducted, each looking at different populations at similar questions and coming to similar conclusions. So while they can't be individually generalized as more studies present similar findings with different strengths it becomes more plausible. In the following section I will address several areas of homeschooling outcomes that have been more thoroughly covered.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Comparison of Home and Public Schooling<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Academic Performance<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> K-12. </strong>One of the first areas of concern is the effects of homeschooling on academic achievement. At the grade-school level many tests have been performed in order to assess whether or not these students are getting the basics in academics. Although many doubt the ability of a non-trained mother or father to teach her children, there seems to be no connection between mother's who have been trained as teachers and the child's academic performance (Collom, 2005). Michael Apple (2007) suggests the reason for untrained parents' success is the widening range of resources available both on and off the internet. However, some difference has been found between the mother's and especially the father's educational level and the academic outcome (Collum, 2005) Even with higher achievement associated with parental education levels, homeschoolers as an entire group seem to be doing better academically. According to one study done by The <span style="color:black;">National Center for Home Education Press</span>, cited by Klicka (2006)<br /></span></p><p style="margin-left: 18pt;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12pt;" >Nearly 80% of homeschooled children achieved individual scores above the national average and 54.7% of the 16,000 homeschoolers achieved individual scores in the top quarter of the population, more than double the number of conventional school students who score in the top quarter (p. 1).<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Others studies have produced the range of results from 15 to 30 percentiles higher than public schools as shown in figure 2.(Ray, 2009). Even the study producing the lowest scores places homeschooled students about fifteen percentiles above the national average, making it clear that homeschoolers are having a greater level of academic success.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Summary of Several Studies on Homeschooling Academic Achievement<span style="color:red;"><br /> </span></strong></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWzjIFjlzZknM2tfAnlh8p1izkrwXyc-HisNE0ve0TdIXtbQDo0JTe3Gm7NUNK30P0rD2FISx00HyYcbkoK2oaQbWgAdlUbLDON7n35DGbkPU8eEBHfI21AZ2D6C6UWX3CS_M/s1600/fig3.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWzjIFjlzZknM2tfAnlh8p1izkrwXyc-HisNE0ve0TdIXtbQDo0JTe3Gm7NUNK30P0rD2FISx00HyYcbkoK2oaQbWgAdlUbLDON7n35DGbkPU8eEBHfI21AZ2D6C6UWX3CS_M/s200/fig3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610335858820997714" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong><span style="font-size:10pt;">Figure 3.</span><span style="font-size:12pt;"><br /> </span></strong><span style="font-size:10pt;">High reports place homeschooling averages at 80<sup>th</sup> percentile; low reports place them at the 65<sup>th</sup> percentile; public school sets the average and is thus the 50<sup>th</sup> percentile. (Ray, 2009, p. 2)</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Perhaps even more significant than the level of academic achievement is the lack of racial and monetary bias in the academic success of homeschoolers. As shown earlier, the number of various ethnic groups choosing to home school is growing more proportionally equivalent to the national ratios. As shown by Collom (2005), within the homeschooling world the two major academic predictors (race and economic status) do not have a statistical impact (p. 329), showing that race and socioeconomic status are not factors in homeschooling achievement.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong><br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>College Level. </strong>Another place to test academic achievement is in the college setting. Many ask how homeschooled students perform when outside of their home environment. Several different records show that homeschooled students scored higher than their counter parts on their college entrance exams (Klicka, 2006, p. 4). In a paper written to make suggestions about college admissions policies, Molly Duggan (2009) found that, at her University, students who had been previously homeschooled performed at one or two grade levels higher than their private and public schooled peers and were much more likely to have "A" averages than either their public or private schooled peers. Klicka (2006) cites studies and comments from several different colleges and Universities who have done studies on their own students stating that homeschoolers perform at or above the level of their peers. Thus indicating that the earlier academic success continues into the higher education levels.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Social and Emotional Skills<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Social Skills. </strong>Besides academic skills, homeschoolers' social and emotional skills often come under scrutiny. Although many believe that public school can offer better socialization opportunities than homeschooling can (Medlin, 2000), research has found no evidence for such claims. Two results are typical for studies involving the social and emotional skills of homeschooled children as compared to public schooled children. As Medlin (2000) shows in his review of the literature covering homeschooled children's social skills, there are two typical results. One of the typical results finds no difference in social skills of homeschooled children. The other typical result finds that homeschoolers are likely to have better social skills than their peers. L.E. Shyers conducted one of the best designed studies on the social behaviors of homeschooled children in 1992. She concluded that homeschooled children compared to their public schooled peers of identical demographics showed similar self-confidence and assertiveness but were less likely to have behavioral problems, (as cited in Medlin, 2000 & Ray, 2004b). These results seem to indicate that homeschooling at the very least does not harm a child's socialization and at best gives them a social advantage.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Emotional Traits. </strong>Perhaps even more important than social skills, emotional skills are an essential part of growing up that many believe can best be developed through traditional schooling as children learn to cope with adverse situations. Although there are many aspects to emotional skills, I will only look at those that have been tested more frequently. Self-concept is one measure of emotional maturity that has been examined in several studies. According to Brian Ray (2004b) many of these studies have found that homeschoolers have a much better self-concept than do students from other systems. Other areas like self-esteem and confidence in their individuality are at least as good, and in some studies, higher than their peers' (Ray 2004b; Medilin 2000).<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Adult Social Activity. </strong>Most of the aforementioned studies were done on children K-12 and leave the question of "How do these students integrate into society after leaving home?" In the few studies which have been conducted post-secondary, homeschoolers are found not only moving on with their lives in positive manners (e.g. careers, schooling etc.), but, as seen in table 1, more of them see themselves as happy in their lives than the general population of the same age group (Ray, 2004a).<br /></span></p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong><span style=";font-size:12pt;color:black;" >Happy with Life Scale</span><span style="font-size:10pt;"><br /> </span></strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div style="margin-left: 120pt;"><table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0"><colgroup><col style="width: 101px;"><col style="width: 121px;"><col style="width: 83px;"></colgroup><tbody valign="top"><tr style="height: 40px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border: 1pt solid black;"><br /></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; border-style: solid solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" ><strong>Home Educated n=5250</strong></span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; border-style: solid solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" ><strong>U.S. * n=522</strong></span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 22px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(216, 216, 216);"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; border-style: none solid solid;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Very Happy</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >58.9</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >27.6</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 22px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; border-style: none solid solid;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Pretty Happy</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >39.1</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >63</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 22px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(216, 216, 216);"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Not too Happy</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >2</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 1pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >9.4</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><strong>Table 1.</strong></span><span style="color:black;"><span style="font-size:12pt;"><br /> </span><span style="font-size:10pt;">Answers for two studies (one for home school graduates and the other for the general US population) compared indicating that homeschooled adults are happier with their life in general than the average population. (Ray, 2004a, p. 56)</span></span><span style="font-size:10pt;"><br /> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><span style="color:black;">Perhaps part of this "happiness" comes from the emotional stability discussed earlier and their social needs being met. Christopher J. Klicka (2006) </span>cites several college administrators who report that homeschoolers are very active in their college community. Galloway conducted a study comparing home, private, and public schooled students at her college in 1998. She found that the homeschoolers were the leaders of the campus scoring substantially higher in four of her five chosen categories (academic, social, spiritual, psychomotor, and cognitive) except psychomotor (team sports) (as cited in Medlin, 2000).<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Tolerance Attitudes. </strong>While it has been shown that homeschoolers function well within a given setting, there is still a concern that prejudice will result from receiving only skewed parental input. However, studies conducted at the college level, e.i. Marzluf (2009), have found that home school students are not only lacking in prejudice but also open to other ideas and people of different backgrounds, ideas, and opinions. Other studies agree with these findings (Ray, 2004b). Medlin (2000) suggests that perhaps this is the case because, in home schooling, the extracurricular activities are more varied than those of public school. While students going to school mostly have interactions with their peers, homeschooled students have interactions with every age group and many different ethnicities (Duggan, 2009; Medlin, 2000).<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Civic Involvement<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Community Service and Involvement. </strong>Most studies on social development looked at what activities these children were participating in, in order to determine their type and quality. They found that not only were these students getting in more extracurricular activities but these activities were also more varied (Medlin, 2000, pp. 111-112). The variation and scope of these activities results in the child's being exposed to a variety of ways to be involved with the community at a young age. It also exposes them to a variety of people. For example, Medlin (1998) conducted a study in which the homeschoolers kept track of the type of people they had contact with and closeness of those relationships. He found that they had moderately close relationships with people of differing age levels (the very elderly to the very young), ethnicities, and socioeconomic status (As cited in Medlin, 2000, p. 112). </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">As homeschoolers grow up they continue this involvement with the community. In figure 3 we can see two different measures of community involvement, ongoing community service and organization membership. When compared to the general population, home school graduates are substantially more involved (Ray,2009).<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong><br /> </strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Community Service and Activity</strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBQcL6KnCC14CEtek0RT2pqv9cX6Y3zZoelQSqOV193j7NKU8RTsQSWGMkw_ehde0BiNThQPE867H9I0xWVwhIDer-JDBzF_q8IS8ZBdDhaqZlQ2DX7e1vYcP9j9vEAWEmrz4/s1600/fig5.png"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE5nQMzeVlNkS0ye4oWZpz6VaXbzE9PdTsluXHwArITLGMYKMsKZnQA8J46i3RWEYUo31RQdBnXBn_jGIMS3kmAcZ3rR4ATeHIEdZTOjRvRyzxSQPDPOfylwe-8isx35WPIfL/s1600/fig4.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE5nQMzeVlNkS0ye4oWZpz6VaXbzE9PdTsluXHwArITLGMYKMsKZnQA8J46i3RWEYUo31RQdBnXBn_jGIMS3kmAcZ3rR4ATeHIEdZTOjRvRyzxSQPDPOfylwe-8isx35WPIfL/s200/fig4.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610336000076513314" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:10pt;" ><strong>Figure 4. </strong>Percent of involvment of homeschooled versus general adult population of simular age group. (Ray, 2009, p.6)<strong><br /> </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Political Involvement. </strong>Perhaps the most surprising part of community involvement is homeschoolers' involvement in the political process. Because the homeschooling movement has been forced into the political arena by its controversial nature, homeschooling families tend to be very politically active. Cooper and Sureau (2007) go so far as to compare the grassroots homeschooling movement to movements such as civil rights and trade Unions (p. 112) As shown in Figure 4, the children of these families continue to be active in the political process as adults, not only voting more consistently than the general population of the same age but also participating in various other ways and having a positive view of the political process (Ray, 2009 & Ray, 2004a). These findings support the idea that homeschooling does a better job at overcoming political apathy than traditional schooling.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Political Activity of Homeschooled vs. General Population<br /></strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span xmlns=""><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBQcL6KnCC14CEtek0RT2pqv9cX6Y3zZoelQSqOV193j7NKU8RTsQSWGMkw_ehde0BiNThQPE867H9I0xWVwhIDer-JDBzF_q8IS8ZBdDhaqZlQ2DX7e1vYcP9j9vEAWEmrz4/s1600/fig5.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBQcL6KnCC14CEtek0RT2pqv9cX6Y3zZoelQSqOV193j7NKU8RTsQSWGMkw_ehde0BiNThQPE867H9I0xWVwhIDer-JDBzF_q8IS8ZBdDhaqZlQ2DX7e1vYcP9j9vEAWEmrz4/s200/fig5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610336085387608642" border="0" /></a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:10pt;" ><strong>Figure 5.</strong> Left grouping shows activities such as writing, telephoning representatives, and other political actives. The right grouping shows voting. (Ray, 2009, p. 6)<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Continuing Education<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Percentages Advancing to Higher Education. </strong>Although we have looked at how homeschooled students perform in different areas in postsecondary schooling, we will now look at how many are actually taking advantage of it. In his state of the Union address, President Obama (2011) stated that almost half of the upcoming job in the next ten years will require some level of higher education. Therefore, the ability for an educational system to prepare and send its students on to post-secondary schooling is an important aspect of the nation's competitive edge, not to mention the individuals' ability to support themselves in a changing economy. In Table 2, Ray (2004a) shows that homeschooled students, ages 18-24, are more likely to have moved onto higher education than the general population of the same age. It should be noted here that 49% of the respondents of this study were currently full time students. If these students complete the degrees they are currently working on the percentage of degreed students would actually be higher. <strong><br /> </strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12pt;" ><strong>Educational Attainment of Homeschooled and General Population ages 18-24.<br /></strong></span></p><div style="margin-left: 50pt;"><table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0"><colgroup><col style="width: 265px;"><col style="width: 106px;"><col style="width: 123px;"></colgroup><tbody valign="top"><tr style="height: 40px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: 0.5pt 0.5pt 1pt; border-style: solid;color:black;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" ><strong>Education Level</strong></span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: 0.5pt 0.5pt 1pt medium; border-style: solid solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" ><strong>Home Schooled (%) n=4129</strong></span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: 0.5pt 0.5pt 1pt medium; border-style: solid solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" ><strong>U.S. General (%)** n=27,312,000</strong></span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(216, 216, 216);"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Some college but no degree</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >50.2*</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >34</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Associate's degree</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >8.7</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >4.1</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(216, 216, 216);"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Bachelor's degree</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >11.8</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >7.6</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Graduate or professional but no degree</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >2.4</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(216, 216, 216);"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Master's degree</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0.8</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0.3</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Doctorate degree (e.g., PhD, EdD)</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(216, 216, 216);"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Professional degree (e.g., M.D., JD)</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0.2</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >0.05</span></p></td></tr><tr style="height: 20px;"><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt; border-style: none solid solid;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >Other***</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >25.8</span></p></td><td style="padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; border-width: medium 0.5pt 0.5pt medium; border-style: none solid solid none;" valign="bottom"><p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;" >53.8</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></div><p style="margin-left: 18pt;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Table 2. More previously homeschooled students were continuing on to higher education.<br /></span></p><p style="margin-left: 18pt;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;">* 49% of these respondents were currently full time students.<br /></span></p><p style="margin-left: 36pt;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;">**Source: United States Census Bureau, 2003a.<br />*** Other = That is, less than high school, high school graduate, voc/tech program but no degree, and voc/tech diploma after high school. (Ray, 2009, p. 37).<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Attitudes and Policies of College Admissions. </strong>Because homeschoolers are now applying for colleges in sufficient number to catch the attention of administrators they are actively affecting the admissions policies (Duggan, 2009; Klicka, 2006; Ray, 2004b). Duggan (2009) found that homeschooled students had "higher levels of intent to persist, or had expressed intentions to return and continue, than either public or private schooled community college students, making them more attractive in retention rates as well as in overall performance. They are also more likely to have a bachelor's degree at a younger age than their peers and advance in their chosen fields more swiftly (Ray, 2004a; Ray, 2004b). Over the past decade many administrators and professors have changed their attitudes from highly negative to highly complimentary toward homeschoolers as they have come into contact with them, such as Marzluf (2009, see also Klicka, 2006). These attitudes reflect a growing awareness of students who are doing better at some level than mainstream students.<strong><br /> </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Although these are obviously not homeschooled super students, these children on average are doing better than their counter parts; so the question becomes, not "is homeschooling succeeding" but, as Medlin (2000) put it, "Why?" (p. 119). While the answer to this question is probably too complex to be treated in one paper, I will look at the one factor identified as the greatest predictor of schooling success across the board: parental involvement (Oyserman, Brickman, & Rhodes, 2007). Although the effects of parental involvement is generally understood, school systems have had little or no success in raising the amount of parental involvement (Oyserman et al., 2007, p. 480).<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Parental Involvement<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Green and </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Hoover-Dempsey</span><span style="font-family:Garamond;"> (2007) compared public school parents who were considered to have high beliefs in parental involvement to homeschooling parents. She found the public school group to have much lower parental involvement beliefs than the home school group. Showing that not only are less parents likely to be involved in public school but those who are involved are likely to believe that less involvement is necessary than homeschooling parents. Thus, it would appear that there are under lying beliefs that affect the level of parental involvement. In the next section we will compare how the two options might affect parental involvement.<br /></span></p><p><strong>Motivation<br /></strong></p><p><strong><br /></strong></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Responsible Parties. </strong>While it is generally accepted that parents should be involved in their child's education, parents can receive conflicting messages as to who has which responsibility and how they, the parent, should help. One reading tutor with 25 year of experience stated that the biggest problem she had with getting parents involved was the perception that it wasn't their responsibility and thus "never had time" (personal communication, 2011, April 9) In many different areas the government and the school's responsibility for children's education is placed before the parent's. One area where the schools' and government's responsibility is projected over the parent's role is political policy. While comparing Individuals with Disabilities Act and No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB), Ramanathan (2008) demonstrates how programs and laws created to benefit children in public schools frequently become a debate over authority and control. This debate implies that the quality and the success of children's education is the responsibility of either the federal or state governments. The NCLB act also gives power of enforcement to several levels of government agencies but none to the parent (Ramanathan, 2008, p. 300). There are also teachers and administrators who come into blame if a school system is not doing well. As homeschooling results remain statistically equal throughout the states in spite of differing levels of government oversight and regulation (Ray, 2009, p. 4), it becomes apparent that the government does not have the effect on education that a parent would, and yet it is often the government that is depicted as making the decisions that count (Obamah, 2011; Bush, 2007; Clinton, 1997). This atmosphere seems to communicate to parents that someone other than themselves is responsible for the child's relative success or failure in various areas. When parents loose that sense of responsibility, they may never find the motivation to become involved.<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Parental Responsibility. </strong> It could be said that parents who choose to homeschool are taking their responsibilities to the highest degree. However, Green and Hoover-Dempsey (2007) found there were two beliefs that motivated homeschooling: parent based, those who believe they are the best teachers for their children and capable of doing so; and partner based, those who are homeschooling because of a negative experience with public school but do not feel they are capable of being the best teachers and thus seek out help from other sources. In their comparison they found that parent based homeschoolers have more positive experiences with homeschooling than partner based homeschoolers. Those who believe they are responsible and capable of teaching their child are empowered and take the requirements with a better attitude, showing that parents who understand and embrace their responsibility are more likely to be involved at higher, more positive levels. This contrast, of parent versus partner based education, shows that when partner based attitudes prevail the parental involvement suffers, whether through inaction or through negative attitudes. Unfortunately, anything other than homeschooling is necessarily partner based and requires extra effort from the parent to maintain a parent based attitude.<br /></span></p><p><strong>Knowledge</strong><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Requirements on Parents. </strong>Once parents understand their responsibility they must still understand how to fulfill those obligations. Without understanding what is required of them, parents cannot act. According to Walker, Shenker, and Hoover- Dempsey (2010), parents in the public school system are most likely to participate after being invited by either a child or teacher, showing that even a parent who wants to act will not until they know exactly how. However, school systems can only ask and not <em>require </em>parents to act. One area this becomes evident is the research now being conducted to understand how parents have such a profoundly good effect so that the schools may provide that support for those who do not receive it at home (Walker, 2008; Oyserman et al., 2007). The school system, in an effort to take care of the children who need help, provides help for <em>all</em> the children. Or rather, because they cannot expect any support from some parents they cannot require it from any parent. And although these programs will likely help those who would not receive this help otherwise, there is a middle group who seeing the program will assume that it is the schools responsibility to provide that support and fail to understand their part. When teachers do send out requests for help, it often entails volunteering at school events. This may confuse the parents' obligation to child and obligation to the school until the parent believes that all that is required to be involved is to volunteer within the school community and make sure their child's home work is turned in on time. And while passive involvement is better than no involvement, it is not the best (Walker et al. 2010); however, it is often the clearest means of involvement.<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Personal Investment. </strong>In contrast, within the homeschooling world requirements on all levels become clear as a parent must inform themselves and choose programs, activities, etc. As previously mentioned there are now many different materials available to homeschoolers (Apple, 2007), as well as many different types of homeschooling methods to choose from (Kjerstin, 2011). As one homeschooler put it, "The first two years were a huge learning curb." (personal communication, April 1, 2011). These parents often invest many hours researching and most understand that more is required of them than the typical parent (e.g. time, career advancement, extra income, etc. (Apple, 2007; Green and</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> Hoover-Dempsey</span><span style="font-family:Garamond;">, 2007, p 266)). However, most do not see these requirements as sacrifices. For example, in discussing the difficulty of creating social opportunities for their children, Medlin (2000) points to several sources where parents have shown they don't find the exertion a burden (p. 4). Perhaps because they understand what is required they are able to fulfill with greater levels of confidence.<br /></span></p><p><strong>Confidence<br /></strong></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Parental Effort Efficacy<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Before participating in any activity most people need confidence that there is a point and that they can accomplish what they set out to do. Parents are less likely to become involved when they lack confidence in their efficacy (Green and </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Hoover-Dempsey</span><span style="font-family:Garamond;">, 2007, p. 266). One area parents are lead to lack confidence in their abilities is in the discussion of teacher certification. Apple (2007) gives voice to the fear of the untrained parent teaching their children. However, as stated earlier, homeschooling success shows no statistical difference for those who have teacher training and those who have none (Ray, 2009). And, although there has been shown a difference in homeschooling academic achievement for those children whose parents have lower educational levels (i.e. 88<sup>th</sup> percentile with both parents having college degree down to 66<sup>th</sup> percentile without either having degrees) those children are still performing better than the average school child (Ray, 2009, p. 3; Collom, 2005), and thus probably much better than children in the school system of similar demographics. Still, parents who believe that they would be less than helpful to their child have less confidence and thus fail to act simply because they feel there would be no point. This is perhaps most clear in the drop off of parent involvement in the teen years as subjects become less basic (as cited in Oyerserman et al, 2007, p. 480) showing that the more complex the issue the fewer parents, or children, believe in the parent's usefulness.</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"> <strong>Empowerment through Choice </strong>In contrast to the parent who feels helpless to assist their child, the parent who chooses to home school does so because they believe in the system and, more importantly, themselves (Green and </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Hoover-Dempsey,</span><span style="font-family:Garamond;"> 2007). This belief empowers the parent. One of the areas we discussed earlier is the homeschooling graduates' lack of apathy. This is may come from the culture which homeschooling creates. Instead of feeling relatively powerless in a convoluted system, homeschooling families impact legislation (Cooper and Sureau, 2007) and make choices within their familial circle without any red tape. Apple (2007) points out how mothers of homeschoolers feel empowered by this practice and their primary role in it. This feeling of empowerment is then communicated to the child who takes it into his or her life and helps them feel less apathetic and more confident in both his training and his ability to influence the world around them.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Confidence<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Belief in Public School System. </strong>In the US, not only are individual parent's teaching efficacy brought into doubt but confidence in the public school system itself is in doubt across the nation. In spite of reports such as <em>The National Center for Education Statistics</em> "Outcomes of Learning" which demonstrated that the United States is at least average in comparison to other countries (2001), most of the media and political rubric insinuates or blatantly calls the public school system a failure (Obama, 2011; Rice, 2011; Bush, 2007; Clinton, 1997). As Ramanathan (2008) points out, this rubric also creates a political climate that stifles the effects of the programs themselves; instead of communicating progress, they foster the feeling that nothing is working. It then becomes difficult to work in system that neither the parent, nor the child, nor even the teacher believes in. It also becomes difficult for the student to have confidence in themselves when the means by which they were educated are reported to be substandard.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong> Two-Way Involvement. </strong>As opposed to confidence in a large system, homeschoolers need only have confidence in the child and the parents. A certain amount of confidence is gained as the parent involves themselves in the most recognized form of effective teaching, the one-on-one model. When admitting to the success of homeschooling, many point to fact that homeschooled students get one-on-one attention (Klicka, 2006). In most homeschooled families this effect is doubled as both parents become involved (Ray, 2004a). Although proper teaching is important and increases the parent's confidence, it is not the most important part of parental involvement. According to Walker, et al. (2010) the parent's most effective role isn't in the teaching it is in the example. Thus, parental involvement takes on many shapes, not because the parent is helping with the homework in more effective ways, but because the child sees priorities, skills, and education in action through their parents. Homeschooling provides more consistent opportunities for that modeling to take place. Hence parents who are politically involved produce children who are politically involved because the children are involved in the parent's life as well. This two-way involvement creates belief and confidence in each other.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>The Choice of Education<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">As stated before, this paper is not intended to prove that homeschooling is the only way to have successful children. However, homeschooling does show that parental involvement can have improved efficacy. Every parent must make the choice as to the right educational option for their child. Most make this choice simply by default, setting themselves up for less active participation even before their child's education beings. Home schooled parents have shown that with proper motivation parents can gain the necessary knowledge to empower themselves. As they become empowered with this knowledge they will gain confidence leading to greater and more effective involvement in their child's education. Homeschooling is a choice that clears away the blurred line of who has what responsibility in educating the child, thus making research and gaining knowledge necessary to the parent. As this knowledge is gained the parent is then enabled to give the intricate support that the child needs to be successful in all areas of life. However, there are those who cannot make this decision for various reasons. These parents must look at other options. This is the first step to better involvement. As the parent actually looks at what is involved both on their part and the school's, they can better work within the system to give their child needed support. Because they made a conscious choice, their confidence in their power to make a difference will increase. Because they have done the research they will know what is required of them and if there are ways for them to go above and beyond that. Finally because their motives are based n their own responsibility, they will be the best teachers the child has no matter the system.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><strong>Conclusion<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Now that homeschooling has been around long enough and in great enough numbers there is a growing set of data to look at concerning the outcomes of that system. Many of these studies have found that positive results come from this practice that are not being achieved to the same degree in our public schools. In areas such as academics, social skills, and community involvement, homeschooled children seem to have an advantage. Using the assumption that parental involvement is the best indicator of educational success, it becomes apparent that how to be involved as a parent is clearer in one system than the other. By looking at the rhetoric surrounding the public school system, I showed how parents can easily become confused as to their role or lose confidence in their ability to be involved in their child's education. On the other hand, homeschooling parents motivated by their sense of responsibility toward their child take the necessary first step by choosing to inform themselves. This then empowers the parents from the moment the choice is taken under consideration and gives them confidence as they discover what their role entails and how they can fulfill it. Therefore, just as a program is more useful to someone who knows how to use it, an educational system is more useful to those who know how to interact with it. Simply going with the default is not an option for the parent who wishes to provide their child with the best possible opportunities for success. Every parent needs to make a choice that will allow them the greatest amount of involvement and then continue to give it. As one mother said, "'It is my responsibility to see that they grow up to be conscientious, responsible and intelligent people. 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