What do you mean I'm OLD?

After a week of an absolutley wretched stomach virus, I have finally ventured outside on this beautiful, cool Georgia morning to watch Patch as he plays in the yard. As I settle myself down in a comfy porch chair, I ready myself for a few peaceful moments of clear thinking and quiet reflection. Ever the eager writer, I open my laptop to see what thoughts want to spill onto the screen as I'm enjoying the peacefulness of the birds chirpping.
And then it happens.
What the----???
OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN-
There, in my computer screen I see it. The face of my mother; not from a photo that had been previously downloaded. No, the image I saw before my eyes, was from my reflection on the screen staring back at me. My God. I have turned into my mother.

Okay, folks, nothing against my mom, because she is an attractive woman who on her worst day is still much more put together than I am on my best, BUT the fact remains that she is my MOTHER, and mothers by their very nature are OLD, which of course I most certainly am not, thank you very much.
I should have seen this coming, really. Over the past few years I have noticed the gray hairs becoming more dense, the wrinkles getting deeper and the pounds, well let's just say they seem to be sticking around these days. I have to face the facts. I'm not a kid anymore. (quick, resuscitation!! I think my heart just stopped!)
This past week we celebrated Tucker's birthday. I have been celebrating birthdays with him for a lifetime it seems, but it still was jarring to me that he was turning 35. We met as teenagers. I was under 100 pounds and had green hair. He was solid muscle and ran a bazillion miles a day. We both could eat Waffle House at 2 a.m. and then feel fine when we woke up five hours later. Our biggest fear in those days was that Tucker would be seen leaving my dorm too late at night by the Resident Director. The thought of that now is like a straight shot of prozac right to the soul! Oh, those were the days.
But, now, I am married to a 35 year old man and apparently he is married to my mother. Ouch.

We always thought we were "cool, young parents." We were; 13 years ago when we had Emily. But now we aren't cool or young. We are those people you see at the grocery store who are holding onto each other as they push their cart around, seemingly oblivious to the stragglers that are behind them whining and pushing one another.

I think the weirdest part for me is that I don't feel like "my mother." (whatever that feels like) I know Tucker doesn't feel like the ancient 35 year old that he has become either. Inside we are still the teenagers with the cute bodies and fast metabolisms.

I guess that is why it is so jarring to look in the mirror and see an "old" person looking back.

All You Need is Love

My kids have always had special "lovies" to comfort them.
Emily had Bobby and Barney. Bobby is the tattered remains of what used to be a beautiful white knit blanket, and of course Barney is, well, a Barney stuffed animal she got when she was very small. Her entire life she has hung onto Barney and Bobby as if they were her lifesavers, and one lovie is never far from the other.
Then came Lou. She was given a pig beanie baby from my brother when she was four months old. She was addicted to Piggie like nothing I have ever seen. She constantly toted that stinky piggie around with her and her "tough lovin" of him required many a snout and hoof replacement. It got to the point where her addiction to her Piggie became so severe we actually had to take him away. It seemed, as long as Piggie was in the general vicinity, Lou was reduced to nothing more than a comatose child; a mere vegetable. So in an effort to have her participate in the world, we had to send Piggie on a little trip, as we have told her. She has a few other favorites that keep her company, but thankfully no other creates such an intoxication as did Piggie.
When I was early pregnant with Charlie I attended a craft fair where I purchased a homemade baby quilt. I was attracted to the quilt because it incorporated a frog fabric within it, and Tucker's family has always likened him to a frog. (another story for another day) But the colors in the quilt were very untypical for a baby and certainly not baby girl colors. At the time, we had no idea what I was carrying, but took our chances. To this day, Charlie carries his Froggie Blanket with him from room to room as he plays. He must have been sending me telepathy through my womb that day telling me to buy it.
Patchy became attracted early on to a yellow waffle weave receiving blanket that I believe we got when Emily was born. He would clutch it in his tiny fists as a newborn and it became so clear early on that he loved it, that we went out and bought a duplicate. He received a stuff duck for Christmas one year that also has begun to join the ranks of ultimate loviehoood. So now a happy Patchy usually requires two "Yellows," as we so appropriately have named them, and a Duckie. Okay, I'm definitely noticing our lovie names are not creative in the least, oh well.

So we are a family that appreciates the need for lovies and realizes that sometimes nothing can fix a problem quite the way a designated lovie can. Imagine our surprise when we realized our sweet little Lida, too, had a special lovie. It became clear early on to the kids that any tiny stuffed animal was fair game for Lida. Lo' and behold she found "Baby." (I know, again with the creative names...) Baby is a small white stuffed puppy with brown ears. Baby originally came from a kids meal, as did the 2 other identical dogs that are somewhere in the house. But Lida has adopted this Baby as her very own. Oh, and believe me, she knows the difference between her Baby and one of the impostor Babies. She carries Baby in her mouth from room to room and gently and lovingly licks her clean. After she deems her sweet Baby is all clean, the two will curl up and fall asleep; Baby tucked safely underneath Lida's arm. If Arthur, or anyone else happens to find Baby and pick her up, Lida makes it very clear that Baby is for her only.
There is something very comforting as a mother, to know that your children (or puppies) feel such solace in these items. Sometimes I think if all of the world's leaders just had a really good blankie, then perhaps everyone would be a little better off.

I SO Didn't Think I was THAT Girl...

My heart hurts. It hurts the way you feel after you find out a person who you really thought you knew, turns out to be someone entirely different. The worse part is that I AM that person I thought I knew.
I have always really taken issue with people who talk behind other people's backs. I subscribe to the "if you have something to say, say it to my face" theory. I work entirely with women, and over the years there has been lots of hurt feelings over things people have said; I, myself, feeling victimized by the shushes and whispers. I couldn't understand why anyone would ever be so cowardly as to not be upfront with another.
It seems, I have learned, that I am a talk the talker but not so much a walk the walker. (No pun was intended in that talk part) I really hurt someone's feelings today when she learned that I had criticized something she had done to other coworkers. Not only did my words wound her, but it made her doubt herself and her relationships with her coworkers. She was really hurt--and I was the reason. I certainly didn't want to hurt her, but I did the very thing I have railed against for years and really upset her. I consider this person a friend who I have a lot in common with, but I may have potentially ruined a friendship because I failed to meet my own standards.
I apologized to her, but it did not make her feel better. The damage had already been done. She was betrayed by a friend she thought she knew. I know how she feels, and it really sucks.
So, here I am. I am ashamed. I thought I knew myself better than this. I thought I was an upfront, say what's on my mind kinda person. I love deeply and I detest deeply but my feelings have always been out there for everyone to see. Apparently not. I really got a reality check today.

I am not the person I want to be and certainly not the person God wants me to be. I know who that person is, but I am far from her. I know I will be forgiven, even if my friend doesn't chose to forgive me. I know God will give me more chances to face temptation and reject it. I know there will be other times in my life where I will let myself and others down, but those times need not to be the legacy of who I am.

I have a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing there is someone, whom I care for, right now hurting because of me. I wish I could run away from this feeling, but I can't. I can't erase my words or my actions so I guess I'll just have to move forward with this day behind me. I pray for the Holy Spirit's guidance through the day to day challenges that become a jungle near impossible to navigate through.
I SO didn't think I was THAT girl.

Being Christ-like Christians

"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
-Gandhi





I came across this quote the other day, posted by a friend who I believe is agnostic. She often posts some pretty harsh comments railing against Christianity, but this one really got me. You just really can't argue with it. It is uncomfortable to read such a statement and realize the profound truthfulness in it.

I live in the Biblest part of the Bible Belt. It used to make me uneasy to hear people proclaiming their faith in God anywhere and everywhere, but now I have either gotten used to it or come to respect it. I'm really not sure which. Anyway, I live in a community where the "Christians" make themselves loud and proud.

I have noticed however, to some, that Christianity is like a sweater that they put on and take off depending on the weather. Some of the most vocal Christians I have met, have also been the first ones to criticize and demean when a celebrity comes out as a homosexual. ***Okay, disclaimer here---- I am and have always been a staunch supporter in the rights of gays, however this is not a soap box issue; this is a tenant of Christianity in my opinion. These "Christians" claim the Bible condemns homosexuality and that these people will undoubtedly go to hell. I am not a Bible scholar by any means, but I do know a few things. 1) God's greatest law above all else is to love one another and 2) no one on this earth has the capacity to know how God will judge another person.

There was a popular Christian campaign years ago; WWJD? That is What would Jesus do. I still use those 4 letters often when I reach a moral dilemma. Ok. So you are a God-fearing, Christ worshipping person. You want to enter those pearly gates with an express ticket when your number is called. You are confronted with the reality that a friend is gay. What do you do? You choose to discontinue contact because his lifestyle sets your moral radar off?? But, what would Jesus do? Our Christ would embrace that person. He would acknowledge the suffering he must be going through. He would pray for and with his friend. Jesus would show love.

I want that express ticket through the gates like everyone else, but I know so little. I admit that freely and openly. But I know Christ. I know the way to Him is to emulate Him. The way to emulate Him is to love. Love everyone; especially those who you think are impossible to love. By doing this, we can all prove Gandhi wrong.

Take Me out to the Soccer Field

Because we had so much empty space to fill in our lives, we decided to sign up the 3 year old for soccer. Well, that's not exactly true. Our soccer complex recently started a U4 division, (that is under 4 for all of you non-soccer savvy peeps) and since their practices just so happens to coincide with one of the 20 times we are at the fields each week anyway, we decided to give it a shot.
Patch has grown up on the fields. Soccer has been a huge part of our family since well before he was conceived and he was only a few months old when he went to his first game. He has watched as Louie and then Charlie have toddled their way up and down the field chasing after those balls. When he began walking, he insisted that he, too, had some little ball out there to kick around. A few seasons ago, our league began to phase out the old uniforms for a new style. As Lou and Charlie got their new duds, Patch became the happy recipient of their cast offs. He was so enamoured with them that he would often sleep in them or wear them to school despite the fact that he could fit at least two of his little friends in there with him!!
So the chance to get him out there, intentionally and purposely was really exciting. His first practice was this past Monday. He got his official U4 soccer tshirt (with smiley face soccer ball emblazoned on it) and was assigned his "country"- Italy. Then the head coach called all the little players to sit on the field and listen for instructions. Forty-five 3 and 4 year olds gathered around and hung on this man's every word. They sat still and listened intently to what they would be doing. It was surreal! These little people were so excited to be there, that they weren't gonna risk the chance of having to leave by misbehaving in any way!!
The countries all split up, (so much for the United Nations, huh?)and went out to "practice." This included everything from playing duck, duck goose while dribbling a ball, to playing freeze tag. Essentially they were learning skills the only way kids that age can...through trickery!! But it was fantastic, and they had such a great time!
By the end of practice Little Man was whooped but so very happy! He woke up bright and early the next morning asking if it was another practice day!

Who am I anyway?

So once upon a time I created a blog to chronicle the daily comings and goings of the Hearns; thus Hearn Happenings. Somehow it has metamorphisized also into a vehicle for my spiritual and philosophical meanderings. (which as we all know has caused some disruption in the world of close minded people...) Anyway, I have recently come to learn that there is a website entitled Hearn's Happenings. (the difference being only an apostrophe and an S. Who knew? The latter website it turns out is a website a teacher has created for her elementary students. I decided to rename my blog in an effort to prevent those sweet, impressionable young minds from happening upon my mindless rants. So...currently I am the Blog Formerly known as Hearn Happenings...paying homage to the artist formerly known as, you know...that guy. But I am open to ideas...

The kids have been back in school for a month now and tomorrow is Labor Day. Although the official end to summer is still a couple of weeks away, the summer "as we know it" has come to an end.
Due to the recession's unwelcome presence in our life, this is the first summer in a long time where we vacationed solely at home. Both Tucker and I commented on how much we enjoyed ourselves despite the lack of out of town plans and our busy work schedules. We really made an effort to hang out a lot as a family at the pool and in the yard with the occasional weenie/marshmallow roast. We learned this summer, that vacationing is not about packing a suitcase and traveling by car or plane. We were able to channel that vacationing spirit at home with each other, being silly and cheering each other on.

My Favorite Things

(Okay,ya'll know the tune. Sing with me...)


Cowlicks on babies and bubbles in bath tubs
Hot greasy french fries and dimly lit beer pubs
Soft worn-in bedding all ripe for some zzzzzs
These are a few of my favorite things

Cloudless blue skies over endless gray oceans
Lazy day weekends and Grandma's old buttons
Watching my children dance around as they sing
These are a few of my favorite things

When my job stinks
When the kids fight
When we're over drawn
I simply remember my favorite things
And then it won't last too long!!

B.O.B. (I just love that Bob!)

Life is tough stuff. Get up in the morning feeling like you didn't sleep only to realize that you're already running late. Turn the shower on and let the water heat up while waking up the youngins. Youngin #1: "Ahhhh, No!" Youngin #2: "I can't get up, I don't feel well." Youngin #3: "I tink I had an askadent, mommy..." Youngin #4: " Go Away!!!
Ok. Lovely. Get those creatures up and somewhat moving and return to the shower where
you hope to enjoy some momentary silence. Crap! The razor is in the cabinet! Exit the shower, sopping wet, (towel is still in the linen closet)track water to cabinet and grab razor. Head back to shower. Resume shower. Cut ankle shaving.
It's 7 a.m.
Life is tough stuff.
Sometimes I feel like one of those lab rats scurrying through the maze to find the cheese. I keep running into things and getting turned around. I finally see the beloved cheesy prize clear in the distance and as I head towards it, some pretty, skinny, little yuppie mouse strolls from around the corner and snatches my reward. Nice. Back to the rat race.
So the Big Guy in charge, and by that I'm referring to God not Tucker, must have seen me banging into walls, because he has offered me a little "out" from the maze.
A couple of times a month, myself and some other ladies get together for a night of beer, friendship and giggles. We go to a local restaurant that has a bazillion types of beer, and as we sample, we laugh and get deep and laugh and eat, drink and laugh. This fellowship has been instrumental in helping me realize that perhaps life is not a rat race. It is a test and a challenge, but God gives us the tools we need to make it through.
So our little group has come to be known as B.O.B; that is Bonding over Beer. None of us have been friends very long but we have come together earnestly to support one another and relax. There is something so comforting in knowing that I am not alone in the craziness of motherhood, and that no matter how extreme a story I have to tell, there is usually someone who can top it.
So, tonight I am going to hang out with good 'ol Bob. It hasn't been too long but I sure did miss him!
Cheers!

Traffic Jam Ponderings

I was on my way to work this morning and got stopped behind a car with a lone bumper sticker. The sticker read: God doesn't believe in atheists.Because I knew this would linger in my mind, I strained to see the verse that was apparently referenced. Romans 1:20. Hmm...
Although I was raised in a church-going family, it has been fairly recent since I have come to know the fundamentals behind Christianity. The love of Christ in my life is overwhelming, and when I question everything else, the one constant is knowing that Christ loves us more than can be imagined.
"God doesn't believe in atheists." This is what I know: 1)Atheists are people who do not believe in the existence of God. 2)God wants us to glorify His name and spread the Good News. 3) We are ALL God's children.
In my heart, I felt at odds with the sticker. An atheist's lack of faith in God does not equal God's lack of love in an atheist...does it???
So I immediately looked up the Bible verse on my Blackberry to see what basis the sticker claims to make such a biting statement. This is what I found:

New Living Translation (©2007)
For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities--his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God.

Okay.

All people have evidence of God right in front of them. The problem, in my mind, is that we live in a society where waking up to blue skies and remarkable anatomies is not enough. People feel that the presence of sadness negates the possibility of God; that a "miracle" is needed for proof. I understand these feelings. I had them for a long time. But the miracles happen everyday- ALL DAY LONG. The Bible says this is proof enough that God exists, therefore it is impossible for one to accurately say "they don't know God." And if we know God, we must glorify His name.

So, let's go back to that darn sticker that started this all. "God doesn't believe in atheists." I find this fundamental flaw. God believes in ALL of his children- bad or good. He loves us and we were created in His image. Just as a mother worries about her wayward child and prays for a safe resolution in his life, so does God for us. Christ asked His Father in heaven to forgive the very non-believers who crucified Him. He loves us despite our failings.

I pray for the atheists, not because I think that God is not in their lives, but because THEY DON'T KNOW IT! But I know, just as a mother would never turn her back on her child, our Savior will forever love all of His children.


I am obviously no learned theologian, and I can not even claim to know for sure the "accepted" explanation for such a claim as the one the sticker makes, but this makes as much sense to me as breathing air.

Hello, Long Lost Blog

I have been an absentee blogger as of late. I'm sure having the kiddos home for the summer has something to do with it. But, I think the real culprit is the bajillion things that have been flooding my mind lately. It seems the more I have to write about, the less able I am to put words on paper.
So, I'm writing this book...what a crazy endevor for me to attempt. I am not a very self motivated person, so the fact that I don't have anyone handing me deadlines is pretty scary, but I'm trying to stick to it. It seems, that a higher power is at work here. The more I tried to put the idea of writing this book out of my head, the more constant it was on my brain. I'm pretty sure there is something to be learned from this story, but I think it is me and not any potential reader who will be the student. Hmmmm...

He finally decided to be a big boy and throw those diapers to the curb! Of course I couldn't be happier, but also amazed at the little person he is becoming. It really seems like he is growing and changing overnight. I am caught between the elation of watching him become a little man and the anguish of knowing the baby stage of my life is fast coming to end.
At school all of the children sang to their mommies for Mother's Day. His performance drove home to me what a big boy he is becoming!

Welcome to My Insanity

If I could be anything in the world, I think I would choose sane. Yes, sanity. I hear it's nice.
I have NEVER taken the easy road. I think it is part of my contrary personality. Why should we wait and get married when when we are established with careers and money when we can eat 89 cent pot pies for every meal? Having a kid is so much fun! I know, I'll have FOUR!!! Hmmmm, some free time just opened up in my life. Perhaps I'll see what baking at 3 in the morning is like...
From the time I was little, I went out of my way to make life more difficult for myself. I'm not really sure why, but I believe it must have something to do with my penchant towards drama. Drama, after all is comedy versus tragedy, right? My life has been so many things, but never boring.
I used to believe that one day I would grow up, and I would be sane. All of the laundry would be folded and put away, and I would be sipping tea at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. Some quiet music (I'm thinking Tchaikovsky) would be playing softly in the background as my beautifully groomed dogs slept on...dog beds! (gasp!) Guests could pop in at any time, day or night to this beautiful image as well as freshly baked scones. Ahhhh...
Well, I'm 33. Shouldn't I be grown up by now? I had a friend of mine today tell me, "you're just not really the 'grown up type.'" She's right I'm not. So instead of my picturesque "dream reality," welcome to my insanity.
The laundry is healthily overflowing in the laundry room in front of the motionless machines that I was sure were going to revolutionize my laundry duties. The tea is replaced with several half drank cans of Diet Coke scattered throughout the house, (can't ever find one when you need it!) and the newspaper is actually the latest issue of People, probably stuck to the oak breakfast room table with oatmeal that Patch had launched earlier. As for Tchaikovsky, well, he's out, but Jerry Garcia and the rest of The Grateful are there filling the atmosphere with their chemically induced wisdom. And those sweet dogs, not so groomed, but perhaps without grass in their hair, are sleeping on the back of the couch. (dog beds do not exist in our house, except to say that anything is the dogs' bed if they see fit) Oh, and the scones, don't count on it. But at any given time I have a Rubbermaid full of "rejected" cookies that did not make my final cut into an order. My poor kids have come to realize they only get "Mommy's rejects." This is all so very unhealthy!

So I'm still kinda waiting until that day when everything switches over to the sane life. It seems very relaxing and comfortable. I just really hope I don't have to give up all of the fun.

Midtown Classic

Wynnton has been holding a 5k every year for the past several years. The proceeds of the race go to support the neighborhood surrounding the church. Every year the turn out is huge and draws racers from all over the Columbus/Phenix City area. It is a huge deal at the church.
In an attempt to grow closer with my new church family, I decided I would volunteer to help out, and Tucker jumped right on board with me.
Early this morning, Tucker and I got up and drove to the church to help with setting up and registration. My job was to be a "course marshall." I was to make sure our runners were running in the right direction and cheer them on as they passed. After a quick meeting at the church I headed down to Lakebottom Park where I was to be stationed. Of course, we did not not have the best of weather; thunder storms! But the race was still on- rain or shine!
I really had a good time standing there on my corner. (Never want to have to say THAT again!) I was amazed as the first runners made their way past me. They had such force and determination. It was breathtaking to see the capabilities of these people. Within a few minutes the bulk of the crowd came through. All different types of people were participating. It was really encouraging to see that it wasn't just for the "super fit." I was most impressed with the mommies who were running with their babies in strollers. They are the winners in my book!
When my duties at the park were over, I headed back to Wynnton. Pulling into the parking lot across the street, I could hear the fabulous people of my church cheering on the runners. What a great feeling it was to be part of that group! Even more gratifying, was seeing Tucker right there with them. It is so nice that he feels as at home there as I do.
Following the race, the sponsors had tables of food and our Praise Band was playing. It was just a great time all around; and to think- we were actually raising money at the same time!
My favorite part of the race was when I noticed the sign at the finish line. Although I can't remember the exact wording it said something to the affect of, "Wynnton UMC- Race with us today, pray with us tomorrow." How great is that?! I am sure that after the hospitality that was shown today, we will have more than a few visitors tomorrow! Praise God!

Talkin' Dirty

God sure got me good. He gave me two shiny, sweet smelling baby girls first. They wore beautiful dresses to school and ALWAYS had coordinating hair bows. I reveled in giving them teensie weensie manicures on their itty bitty hands. Life was peaches and cream.
I was excited about having Charlie; up for the challenge. I heard all of the cliches that compare boys to girls. I was not going to buy into those horrid stereotypes. I was, after all, Supermom.
At a really early age, (I'm talkin' fresh outta the hospital, people) I was amazed how sweaty Charlie's little feet were; sweaty AND stinky! My newborn son had smelly feet! Surely not, but oh, yes. Over, the next weeks I was amazed how much dirt would accumulate in his tiny fists and between his toes. I bathed this kid on a regular basis, and it wasn't like he was running any marathons. Dirty, dirty, dirty.
To really drive home the joke, God bestowed upon us a second little stinker. We hadn't seen anything yet! Patch, or Patchy-Poo, as he is commonly referred to, has been the end all be all of dirty, little boys. Picture this Rockwellesque painting: adoring family sitting, gazing at the newborn longingly when suddenly out of nowhere emanates a strong sulfuric odor slowly filling the room. One by one, family members tuck their noses in their shirts and exchange their loving glances to ones of horror. How could that smell come from such a tiny person!!!??? Patch's "teachers" at school quickly realized the ONLY way to feed him without ruining his clothes, was to strip him down to his diaper; even then, somehow he managed to soil clothes that were 10 feet away.
Boys are just like that, I am learning. They thrive in filth and stinkiness. I would love to say my husband is different, but the truth is that he is "just one of the boys." No matter how many toys, books or games they may have, at the end of the day nothing beats a puddle of water or a pile of leaves. The more "one with the filth" they can be the better. A truly successful day is one where they are able to turn their bath water several shades darker.
Despite the seemingly magnetic reaction boys(and men) have to all things gross, we members of grime-opposed gender still love them. Perhaps because of their "condition" we love them more because it gives us something to work on with them. There is a definite sense of accomplishment when you pluck one of these playful ogres out of the swamp and turn them into Prince Charming- even if only for a few hours!

Friends Forever

I'm super duper lucky. I actually can "grow" my own friends. What a cool trick, huh?
Today Emily came home from school feeling just horrible. After two solid weeks of sick kids, I knew I couldn't risk not having her looked at so we called to see if she could be seen. To my surprise, they told us to come in at 7pm. Our amazing pediatricians office was offering extended hours because there had been so many sick kids!
After a long day, she and I headed back out to see what was going on. On the way there we talked about how her heart has grown since going through the confirmation process at church and how cool it was that we could now share shoes. She told me how some of the kids at school are really starting to create serious trouble for themselves, and I shared how shocked I was when I was her age and saw the same thing happen with kids I had known from an early age. When we finally got to the office we sat and we talked, laughing the entire time about nothing and everything. And once in the examining room, we talked and we talked and we talked some more. Even though we were there because she was sick, it almost felt like a special one on one girls night out!
After her appointment we ate dinner in the car while we were waiting for her prescription to be filled. The entire night should have been a chore for both of us really, but it was such a blessing.
Emily is still a kid and I need to remember that sometimes, but every day she is becoming more and more grown. Not only do I love her as my baby, but I am beginning to really appreciate her as a friend. Although she is very much her own person, she also possesses qualities of both Tucker and I which of course I am very much compatible with. It is just really cool to think that out of the love Tucker and I have for each other came this sweet, special person who is fast becoming one of my most respected friends.
There is a well known cliche that says that we pick our friends not our family. How special is it when we choose to have our family BE our friends!

My Superman

Tucker really amazes me. He is just an incredible person. Back when we were mere little babes in college, he waited patiently by my side as I sowed my wild oats. I asked him once why he stuck around and he answered very simply, "I knew you would need me." On our wedding day as we were toasting I stood up and gave a teary, somewhat incoherent speech about the hell I put Tucker through in those early days. Everyone kinda laughed and smiled, but he knew what I was talking about. What is amazing to me, is that he always knew the day would come where I would just chill out and fall in love with him. He was there through it all.
In a few weeks we are going to celebrate 13 years married. That really seems like a lifetime to me. (more than a third of my life) He is still every bit the Superman to me now as he was back then.
He takes such good care of me. Today it was his turn to stay home with the sick kids. When I got home from work, the house was clean and the laundry done. He grabbed the baby from my arms and put him down for a rest. Then he walked me back to our room, turned down the bed and tucked ME in for a rest. He knew just what I needed, like he always has. No matter what is going on, he always is thinking about me.
I can go on and on and on about times when he has put me above himself. He's just that kind of a person. It amazes me, that somehow I, who had always had an uncanny ability to make horrible choices, at 20 years old, found Superman.

Top Ironies of the Week

1. We are actually way FURTHER behind on things that have to be done after being off work for a week.

2. I am looking forward to returning to work so that I can rest a little.

3. My dogs are currently the healthiest members of the household.

4. The two children I took to the doctor this morning, are now sicker than they were when they were seen.

5. Every year around tax refund time, something catastrophic falls into disrepair around the house. This year the air conditioner died before the ink dried on our balance statement. I'm wondering if this is what is referred to as a "Government Stimulus Package." I have been secretly looking out the window for little men in dark coats and black sunglasses trying to damage my property.

6. My husband, who rejected youth in favor of acting "wise beyond his years," has now decided to grow his curly hair out so he will more closely resemble his two year old son.

7. My daughter received some misguided information that Tina Fey was actually a political factor in the past Presidential election. As I explained to her Tina's real role, I felt an odd sense of pride that perhaps her spoofs did turn things in Obama's favor.

8. In a news story on the Today Show this morning, it was revealed that people who get enough rest are less likely to gain superfluous weight. Dude, I could be killing two birds with one stone. Sign me up.

9. The fact that all the kids have been sick is actually affording Tucker and I more face time with one another.- No Soccer!

10. Despite all the germs, fevers, lack of money, superfluous poundage and all of the political tensions existing in the world, (read:Don't defriend me and I won't defriend you) I am so very thankful for my life and am pretty happy with the way things are.

Joke's on Me!

I love to whine and complain. Well, not really, I just seem to do it a lot, so here I go.
I feel like I NEVER see my husband between our myriad of extra jobs and various extra curriculars for the kids. We are constantly busy and are often two ships who pass in the night only to make sure that we are indeed coming home at night. In moments of clarity I tell myself that this is the life we have chosen to provide the best we can for the family while not ultimately selling out ourselves and our dreams. There is something almost romantic about working your tail off to join forces and raise a family with the guy you met when you were 18 years old. That being said, the more realistic and bitter Caroline, the one who usually dominates, is just really irritated that we work twice as hard for half as much, but whatever....
Tuck and I have been so looking forward to this week off; talk about visions of grandeur. We were going to sleep in and work on the house and have awesome quality family time. We were determined to not feel as though our precious time off was squandered.
God has such a sense of humor!
Immediately after Spring Break began kids began getting sick everywhere. Every time I turned around a coughy, sneezy offspring turned up with a fever. Easter morning brunch consisted of everyone slouching in the booth at the restaurant and our entire meal being boxed in to go containers. Later that afternoon, Tuck took the "least ill" of the kids to his dad's house for the festivities. As I sat in my house that afternoon, I began to wonder if I too was getting sick. "Boy, I'm starting to feel really hot. I'm like Waaay hot! What is the deal?" Yes, friends, that's right the air conditioner decided to die at that very moment. Sigh.
Two days and two thousand dollars later we once again have cold air.

So, the best made plans are not written in stone. Sometimes good intentions remain intentions only. The reason we work twice as hard is so that when emergencies arrive, we will only be half as much behind.

I'm sure glad God has such a sense of humor, it makes me feel like maybe mine won't get me in as much trouble!

Happy Easter

When I was a kid, dyeing eggs was always such a big deal. We would all have our allotment of eggs to dye and we would try to make it last forever. For that half an hour or so my sister and brother and I would use perfect manners; "I need the yellow when you are done," and "ohhh, that is so pretty!" Every year my brother saved his last egg to be the "ugly egg." He would systematically dye it in each of the colors as many times as it took for it to turn brown. Usually, by the time he was done, not only was the color hideous, but the shell was smashed as well!
Preparing the egg dye for my kids always brings me back to those days. Last night the four of them sat at the kitchen table and colored their eggs. The techniques surely differed from child to child, but the results were all marvelous! Patch especially got into the action this year, dumping multiple eggs in the same cup at the same time. It seemed his goal was not a pretty egg, but rather a large, messy splash. (He succeeded in both fronts) Even Em, who is increasingly becoming way too cool to take part in such family togetherness, seemed to really enjoy herself.
So now we have just under 2 dozen beautiful eggs in the fridge. (a few didn't make it passed the dyeing process) I see a lot of egg salad in our future.

My Lou

Remember when we were kids and we would go to those little junk stores and buy those "grab bags?" That sealed paper bag with unknown contents would make my imagination soar. Although the price was usually right around a dollar or so, I would just know that MY bag would contain some very marvelous and valuable prize. The element of surprise was really the treat, because the contents were usually something that would easily break or otherwise be deemed useless in a matter of minutes. I felt that same sense of excitement with every pregnancy. You just never know what you're gonna get!
From the moment I found out I was pregnant with Elizabeth, our lives changed. My pregnancy with her was wrought with danger and I was put on bed rest for many weeks. Tucker and I could not believe how we could have such complications after such an easy pregnancy with Emily. When we finally were told we were "out of the woods" with the pregnancy scare, we began to imagine what our new little girl would be like. We already had a beautiful curly-headed blond who was the apple of our eyes, and we felt sure that the birth of Elizabeth would ensure us another one, just like the first; a matching set!
I delivered Elizabeth and the doctor immediately handed her to me. Wow. This baby was beautiful, but so unexpected!! Instead of the fair skinned baby I was imagining, I had in my arms a perfect dark-complected, brown eyed, baby with a fine, silky layer of dark brown hair covering her head. I was so shocked at her coloring, because I was always the most pale person anywhere. Within days it was very evident that the baby did not take after her parents but rather her Aunt Barrie. (Tucker's sister) To this day everyone jokes that it may be impossible for Barrie to ever have a child that looks more like her than Elizabeth does!
Everything about Elizabeth has been a surprise. She is quirky and smart and has the most hilarious sense of humor. She is more sure of herself and who she wants to be than most adults I know. She developed an athletic spirit before she could walk as she began scaling bookshelves and tabletops when no one was looking. Her adventurous streak even led her to break her leg when she was only 4 years old! Now she is in her 7th season playing soccer. Somewhere along the way she became Lou, (a name given to her by her brother who couldn't say Elizabeth) and she feels more comfortable with it than any of the millions of variations of Elizabeth and nicknames she has acquired over the years. I am amazed by her. She is everything I would have loved to be when I was that age. She is truly the type of person who will write her own story instead of having it dictated to her. I admire her so much for that.
In many ways having her has been like getting one of those mystery grab bags. I could have never imagined what was inside. Thankfully, though I finally did get that marvelous and valuable prize!

Emily in Epworth

Emily went on a three day trip with her confirmation class to Epworth by the Sea (St. Simons Island) this weekend. She came home last night and other than being exhausted, I could tell she was very much touched by what she experienced.
When I decided to join the Methodist church, Tucker and I spent a long time discussing how we should proceed as a family. He is still very happy with Catholicism and together, we had to decide where our children's home church would be. After much discussion, we came to the mutual conclusion that right now the Methodist church where I attend has better programming for the kids than the Catholic church does. Emily, who had not had positive religious education experiences in the past was very wary to be put into a whole new situation. I prayed that she would find a welcoming and loving place where she could learn about Jesus as I had.
As it turns out, the Youth Pastor, and consequently Emily's Sunday School teacher is an old high school buddy of Tucker's. That was just another sign to us that she would be taken care of. In the past months, Emily has opened up a lot about what she has learned about Jesus and being a better Christian. She has developed a strong admiration for her Youth Pastor as well as her fellow confirmands. This whole experience for her has been nothing but completely positive.
I knew she was in good hands when she left on Friday, but I was still nervous to let her go. She called me each night that she was gone and I could tell she was having a great time. Last night when she got home, she showed me the zillion of pictures she took and talked non stop for about three hours until she finally completely crashed. Other than the typical silly 12 year old antics that were inevitable to happen, she really grew closer to the Lord. I am so proud of her and so thankful she had this opportunity.
One of the hardest things about being a mom is that you never get a report card. We never have those quarterly evaluations where we get called into some big office where we are told how we are doing in our jobs as mothers. Sometimes the only thing we can do is pray that we are making the right decisions as far as are kids are concerned. Listening to Em talk about how her heart had grown in Christ this weekend felt tantamount to a big thumbs up from the Boss. It is so nice to have this confirmation (with no pun intended) that we made the right choice for her.

Baby Big Boy

"Bubby" has turned 6 and represents everything Patch wants to be; except potty trained, that is.
I have been called the "Potty Training Nazi" in some circles. I wear the honor proudly. My first three babies potty trained effortlessly and I also have helped dozens upon dozens of my little friends master this feat. Then came Patchy. As I have mentioned before, everything I ever thought I knew about anything flew out the window when he was born.
He goes potty; if he wants to. He is perfectly content to hang onto his little baby status as long as he possibly can. His two big sisters do everything they possibly can do to reaffirm his baby-ness to him. It seems they are all in favor to keep him little forever as well. But less face it folks, he will be a whole lot less cute at six years old, when he has to leave the soccer field so that his mommy can change his diaper.
So, I have resulted in the time honored tradition of bribery. I'm not proud. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. The deal is, when he is "fully potty-trained," that is completely trustworthy in underwear, then we will go to the store and he can pick out a Nerf Gun. The kid who won't use the bathroom is being bribed with a gun. Seems a little like a serial killer in the making, huh?
Bubby has a Nerf Gun and Patch thinks it is the coolest thing in the world. We are hoping he makes the connection between Bubby being a big boy who goes potty and the fact that Bubby has the much coveted toy. We'll see. He's making progress. Slowly- but progress is progress.

Obama: Love him or Hate him, Just have Half a Brain

Where's my soap box? I think I'm gonna need it again...ahh here it is, thank you.
I know the world is full of people with very differring opinions. That is super cool. Without these different points of view we would never learn anything new. My mom used to always say that chocolate and vanilla make the world go 'round. We are SUPPOSE to feel differently about things, right?
Here's my problem. Have your own point of view, but don't support your opinion with incorrect information used only to flame the fires of dissent. Recently I was facebooking, (yes it has now become a verb in my book) and I came across someone's rant towards President Obama. These are not uncommon in my part of the country, and although I do not share in the opinion, everyone is entitled to feel how they do. The rant was based on the minimal pay raise that was given to the military this year. I sympathize greatly with this frustration as my hard-working husband has actually endured a pay CUT this year. The economy sucks and it is hitting everyone. But she furthered her rant on Obama by saying he had never been to the front lines to see what our service men and women do. GONG! That's where she lost me. He totally has been to the front lines. I remember watching the coverage. So this initially well intentioned argument lost all credibility when she tried to boost it with untruths. (or as I like to refer to them as LIES)
Whatever. Be frustrated with our president if you don't like the job he's doing. We are Americans and have the enviable honor of being able to freely speak our mind. Just do yourself a favor and make an intelligent argument. Barack Obama is Muslim. (no he's not) Barack Obama isn't a US citizen. (yes he is) Barack Obama hates white people. (dude, really?) Disagree with his policies. Disagree with the way he is handling the economy or the wars in the Middle East, but PLEASE don't add to the already unendless static noise of people who do not know what they are talking about.

When I Grow Up...I Don't Want to be a Grown -Up

At 33 years old, I do not feel like I have figured out what I want to do when I grow up. I have been teaching early childhood classes at one place or another since college, but that was a pure accident and never want I intended to do with my life. I enjoy my job most days, but I do not believe it is where I belong for the long haul.
Then there is my new found talent in the cookie business. Again, I stumbled into it, and although it is fun, I don't think I could ever support myself let alone a family baking.
Over the years I have had thoughts of becoming a nurse, but the thought of going back to school terrifies me. Tucker and I used to dream of opening a small cafe specializing in fine foods, but you know, there is the lack of start up capital not to mention fear of losing financial stability. So on I dream and wonder and think...What am I going to do when I grow up?
I know I shouldn't let fear prevent me from going after something, but I really am not even sure what I WANT to do with my life. The goal of my lifetime has been achieved in the birth of my children, but there will come a time when they will fill up fewer hours in my day, and it will be up to me to decide where to go next.
These thoughts bother me a great deal. The uncertainty makes me feel unsettled and anxious. At times, I push them far to the back of my mind and decide that maybe I just won't be a grown-up.
I guess this is where I need to let God take control. He has taken care of me thus far, so there is no reason to believe I'll be let down. It is a hard thing to do to just ride the waves of life to see where they will take you, but I know under his orchestration, experiences and opportunities that I could have never dreamed up will come to me.
Right now I still have a baby at home. I intend to give him the same access to me that the others had. When the time comes for me to find a new path I'll just have to keep my eyes on the light that God is shining down pointing me in the right direction.

Tinkle...uhh, no thanks...I'm good...

I have never fancied myself a "dog person." I grew up with cats and I really relate to their laid back lifestyles. Tucker on the other hand always had a houseful of dogs running around. People are generally one or the other; cat people or dog people- so I thought.
Before Godiva died, I was convinced that when she and Arthur went to the great Puppy Heaven in the Sky, I would NEVER have dogs again. I loved them but they were high-strung, high-energy smelly creatures. I was looking forward to the peaceful relaxing life of kitty calmness.
When Godiva died so suddenly everything in my heart changed. It wasn't any longer about the chaos, it was about the loss of a friend- for my children, for Arthur AND for me. Suddenly, I went into overdrive to protect the dog we had left. Arthur got brushed every night, began wearing cute sweaters, and was constantly in my lap. His depression over the loss of Godiva was so obvious and disheartening. He no longer wanted to play or eat. Arthur was dying before my eyes. He could not go on without his best friend. My heart was breaking.
I began to question whether Arthur needed a new friend to help ease his pain. Tucker, who is the consummate dog lover, assured me Arthur would be fine, and in time he would recover from the shock of Diva's loss. Time went on and his depression only seemed to intensify, until one day my father in law brought his brand new puppy over for a visit. Arthur perked up and immediately began to "mother" the new baby. I'm sure at that time Tucker knew he had lost the new dog battle with me, but I continued to play the "let's wait and see game."
I began researching on-line various pet rescues in the area. I looked quite extensively at the local Humane Society's page. I knew I wanted another small dog for Arthur, but the only one I really saw was a funny looking white scruffy thing with dark black circles for eyes. Her name was "Tinkle." Not a good omen for house breaking. I emailed the office of the Humane Society asking to be on the look out for a compatible friend for Arthur and decided to back off. The next day I got a call from a woman at the office saying she had quite possibly a very good match for my boy; a little white poodle named...wait for it, wait for it...TINKLE!! Oye vey!
Despite my misgivings over "Tinkle" I decided to bring in Arthur for a visit to see if Tinkle, or hopefully another dog would be a good match for him.
Arthur was so nervous. By now he had gotten quite skinny and feeble looking. The barks of the other dogs scared him so I ended up holding him. We were put in a room where we could spend some quiet time with "Tinkle." That crazy dog, who was probably part poodle but a whole lot of who knows what, was shaved almost completely bare, had a hairless curly rat tail, and kept peeing on the floor in front of us. The lady at the shelter explained that when she was found, her hair was so badly matted and overgrown that they had to shave her all the way down. She assured me that in time Tinkle would be beautiful. "Ummmm, yah, ok...whatever. Let's look at some other dogs."
So we walked around and saw some beautiful animals. I was shocked that THESE were shelter animals. They were the kind of animals people pay top dollar for. But I kept having a nagging pull back to that ratty little Tinkle. Damn you, conscience! I watched as she watched out her little window at us. Scratching the glass as if to say, "hey, where are you going? What about me?" uggh. Catholic guilt. It doesn't matter that I left the church, I kept the guilt.
We filled out the paperwork to adopt Tinkle. Consequently, I was told her name had only been Tinkle for the week and half since she had been in the shelter so I was free to change it if I would like. Well, that was certainly something.
I paid an enormous adoption fee, which eventually caused me to be overdrawn. *The first time in my adult life I have bounced a check and it was for TINKLE!!* What the hell!
Fast forward two months. "Lida Rose" (I always wanted a daughter by that name) is so amazing. She and Arthur have healed each other's heartaches. She has brought a wonderful energy into our lives. Her transition has been seamless. And yes, she has grown hair on her naked little rat tail, and no, she does not "tinkle" in the house.
So I guess I am a dog person after all, but I am also a cat person. I am so blessed to have these furry angels in my life. I really believe God or perhaps Godiva, (possibly both) had a hand/paw in placing Lida in our lives. Really, all bets were against her yet here she is. It sure is crazy how little control we have in our own lives!

Snowy Blessings

I am such a homebody. I could be perfectly happy to stay in my cozy, little world for the rest of my days without ever venturing beyond the outer limits. But with the entirety of my family being outside of my immediate area, travel is necessary from time to time. Because the school system is so graciously furloughing my husbands work days, we had a block of days off in mid-February that we used to travel to North Carolina to see my family. (Well, really my nieces, but the rest of the family too!)
Imagine our surprised when we were blessed with a beautiful snow fall!! Not only did the kids get to enjoy rarely seen snow, but they were able to do so in the company of their cousins!! The 6 kids looked out the window Friday night as the snow fell, anxiously waiting for their time in the white stuff. When the morning finally came around my sister, Beth, had to scrounge around the house for enough boots, mittens and the like for all of the children. (as well as her ill-prepared sister!!)
Together the six kids made snow angels, and ran around in a flurry of activity. In quieter moments they all sampled the deliciousness of the cold treat.
Snow for a child, in any circumstance, is such a blessing and whirlwind of excitement, but for "the cousins" it was made doubly so, because they were able to enjoy it together. It really went along way to remove the sting of traveling for me!

Identity Crisis

Apparently Jenny is having a bit of an identity crisis and thinks she's a chicken. I'm just sayin'...

Forgive us our trespasses...

I have "issues." My mother in law always used to smirk when I used the term "issues", but it is such an encapsulating word. Issues. And no doubt, issues would not be issues if you could easily resolve them, tie them up in a pretty box and admire them on a shelf.
Although, I often fall short, I try earnestly to be just and good. I try to offer people the benefit of the doubt and be open minded. I believe in God and I believe that we all need to come as close to showering others with the kind of love He unconditionally shows us. Not always easy, but certainly a necessary practice.
There is a person in my life who I have struggled with since the inception of our relationship. For a long time it was a mutually volatile relationship, although I have found myself in recent years, being more able to control myself in the presence of the hostility that surrounds us. I desire nothing more than a close and loving relationship with this person, but for so many reasons it has not been achieved.
I spend so much time analyzing my role and how I can make things better. I go over and over in my heart and mind to find a solution. I have tried every approach, yet at the end of the day, I feel like I will never be worthy in the eyes of this dear person. I vacillate between extreme anger and sadness until I force myself to take a break from the entire situation. It truly is exhausting to feel so utterly unworthy in the eyes of another.
Last Sunday, during morning worship, I was reciting the Lord's prayer as I have done nearly every day of my life. Suddenly, I felt as though a lighting bolt hit my spine. "Forgive us OUR trespasses, as WE forgive those who trespass against US."
What I was asking from the Lord was to forgive me all of my wrongdoings as I, myself have done for others. But, is it a truly forgiving heart that constantly questions why the heart of another is falling short? If I am to forgive, I believe I first must accept this person as they are. Is that not what we are asking of Christ every time we recite the Lord's prayer? Imperfect we are, but loved just the very same.

Human condition will not allow me to walk through the remainder of my years unhurt by the words and actions of other people, but my prayer is that God's grace will allow it not to be my focus.

Doing our Jobs

In Mitch Ablom's Book Five People You Meet In Heaven, he talks about how children are like glass balls. We, as parents, must handle these balls with all the care possible. Some parents may smudge the glass a bit, but leave it translucent and intact. However other parents, are careless and irreparably damage the once beautiful glass until it is no longer recognizeable as what it once was. Of all of the things I have read in my life, this passage is one of the very most memorable to me.
Every person on this earth starts out the same; as little, tiny babies, innocent and new. Somewhere along the way of life, these babies grow and change. They become less innocent, less "cute," and less easy to forgive. They become REAL people.
I have been in the "children business" for the entirety of my adult life. Not only have I been raising my own, but I have been a part of hundreds of children's lives. I have seen the glass ball metaphor play out in so many ways. It is truly humbling that the behavior of adults has such an enormous impact not only behavior of children, but also who those children turn out to be. Humbling and scary.
Even Ablom attests to the fact that all of us have a certain amount of damage on our glass. It is impossible, regardless of how well intentioned a parent is, to be raised flawlessly and without being negatively impacted in some way. All of us have "our issues." As children, we all have experienced our own balls "being scuffed" a little. As parents, as painful as it is to admit, we all have at one time or another made a mistake (or intentionally did something) that left a mark on a child's glass. It is inevitable. We are human and it is impossible for anyone to grow up completely unscathed. But for most of us we see our mistakes as opportunities and warnings from God to turn things around. These are our children. It is our job to raise them to be the best people they can be, and to lift them up with love.
I have seen far too many times, that the desperate and overflowing outpouring of love one has for their children seems to dry up as that child leaves infancy. Mom starts speaking in a harsher tone, and always seems inconvienced. Dad is too busy and thinks his kid is uncool. The newness of the child has worn off and now they are stuck with this kid. I am not speaking of abuse or neglect. Really it is about simple and basic respect. God gave us these children. We need to show love and respect to our kids at all times. We do not get a pass if we have had a bad day or our child is getting on our nerves.
It always seems that the very people who need to worry about negatively affecting their children are the ones who either don't have a clue or a care. The result is often the very sad writing on the wall of a two or three year old child. It is so heartbreaking and tragic.
We are their parents, folks. We need to do the absolute best job we can with these kids. They are not just possessions we acquired when it was envouge to start procreating. Their lives now will have impacts on generations to come. We can not take this job lightly. These children need our unconditional love.
As I climb down from my soapbox I want reitterate that I am speaking of love. pure love. This is not about showering your child with expensive clothes and toys. We all need to spend some time inside the minds and hearts of our kids to find out what they really need. Most of the time the answer is simple. They just need us.

Happy New Year!!

After an wonderful Christmas break, (the best I can ever remember, actually)Tucker and I were looking forward to celebrating New Year's Eve with the kids in our traditional Hearn way.-- snacks and tv until the "moment of truth," then kisses for everyone and bed.
Last night, the mere thought of the kids being able to stay up until midnight gave them more than excitement than they could handle. Being able to eat snacks in the play room really pushed them into high gear!! While Tucker and I enjoyed 30 Rock reruns in the den, our 4 babies alternated between watching Teen Disney and playing in the playroom. At one point, my darling husband suggested we all play a board game together. Everyone readily agreed, but the game was short lived as every one's excitement and distraction got the better of them. (Secretly, I was a little overjoyed when the kids decided they'd rather go back and hang out in the playroom, and I got Tucker all to myself again!!) Poor, little Patch made it until about 10 before his baby timer was up. He wanted so much to stay up like the big kids, but he just couldn't make it and was just miserable trying. When I was carrying him back to his bed, he kept trying to demand that "Bubby" (aka Charlie) was a baby too, and thus needed to go to bed as well. Thankfully his new Spider Man sheets were on his bed, and he snuggled right in when he saw them.
As always, Tucker and I held each other as Dick Clark counted down to the New Year and kissed each other on the first moment of the New Year. We then went into the playroom and kissed the babies who remained awake, all of whom looked more than ready to go to bed themselves!!
Getting ready for bed, I was overwhelmed with all of the possibilities that await my family and I in the New Year. I can't begin to imagine what God has in store for us, but I know it is magnificent, as everything that He ever has a hand is! So, although I do not believe in New Year's Resolutions per se, (I think one should ALWAYS be willing to resolve to make their lives better no matter what time of year) I do pray that I am able to see the Lord in more of the details of my every day life and that I can share Him with others. I know that 2010, as every other year has been, is going to be a tremendous gift filled with unexpected blessings.