tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835315633339146512024-03-05T05:47:06.896-08:00Parenting by Heart"a common-sense dose of wisdom with an occasional wink of humor"Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-78216036369035647882018-11-05T08:34:00.000-08:002018-11-05T08:34:23.765-08:00Autumn in Dixie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IN7o6lefDUkx6aakmo_l_cDlV4ylRjLqaTplXgBhK9pXiGLZ8l_Vc5IX6yTSZgzWtBCn2Va8PjapT0ASJjb5940raYEsXedl4Ic3JCr6gqRHEIvePbW9lCYRY9bk6WDh1G5Tr7lQcQ4F/s1600/Maple+leaf+backlit+by+sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IN7o6lefDUkx6aakmo_l_cDlV4ylRjLqaTplXgBhK9pXiGLZ8l_Vc5IX6yTSZgzWtBCn2Va8PjapT0ASJjb5940raYEsXedl4Ic3JCr6gqRHEIvePbW9lCYRY9bk6WDh1G5Tr7lQcQ4F/s320/Maple+leaf+backlit+by+sun.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Autumn sighs and tiptoes down an old country lane while squirrels and chipmunks chatter overhead. Scampering here and there, those agile acrobats busily stash nuts and acorns away for cooler days ahead. Dozens of trees line the sides of the lane, and depending on their heritage, don uniquely-designed garments of crimson, gold and fiery orange. Across a distant field, a farmer hauls in the last load of hay onto his wagon and heads for home. Autumn in Dixie has arrived.<br />
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<br />Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-4171687085755409562015-11-06T09:24:00.000-08:002015-11-06T12:22:37.542-08:00B & B's<span style="color: #351c75; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Of Birthdays and Blessings ...</b></i></span><br />
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The past two months have been full of both birthdays and blessings! After Mom's 91st birthday on September 22nd (see previous blog), we were blessed to celebrate other birthdays ...<br />
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October 5th was our grandson Jason Cody's 6th birthday. He is a sharp little man who enjoys trains, LEGO's, playing soccer with the Cyber Rays and also enjoys learning about ships, boats and planes. This grandson is a real student of his interests and knows more about trains, their design and their functions than most adults! His favorite birthday gift was riding on an AmTrak into Union Station.<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-large;">We love you, Jason Cody!</span></i></b><br />
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A few weeks later, we celebrated our grandson Caleb's 2nd birthday on October 29. This little fellow is in the high-energy-catch-me-if-you-can stage. His Mommy has found him standing on the arm of their couch, on the kitchen table and sitting on the snack bar. To his credit, he also enjoys cuddling in a lap and having favorite books read aloud, and that megawatt smile of his melts my heart!<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">We love you, Caleb!</span></i></b><br />
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Then, on November 2nd, my dear hubby's birthday #64 was a celebration and blessing. I am so grateful and thankful for this man God placed in my heart and life! He is my soul mate and confidante, my parenting partner in raising our three children and my grand-parenting partner in loving our four grandsons. We see them only once or twice a year, and while that is painful to bear, it is eased by having someone walk the Papa & Nana path with me.<br />
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Back to blessings, I can't begin to enumerate them all here, but I'll share a few. We are blessed with good health at this point in our lives and a warm, cozy home in this rainy autumn season. We also have clean water to drink and food supplies as needed. Not everyone has that in this world, and we do realize what a blessing it is.<br />
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Not only has God provided our physical needs, He has also supplied much more - comfort in sorrow (our precious young niece died in late September), comfort supplied through friends and extended family who came to celebrate her life & legacy with us. Comfort in knowing she was a bright light during her brief lifetime and was ready to meet her Maker. The moment He lifted her out of pain and suffering, she was at perfect peace with Him. <br />
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I am blessed to still have my Mother - the only surviving parent in our married life. She is fading in so many respects but is still my sweet Momma. I am blessed to see her at least twice a week and sometimes more, and we are very grateful for the staff and caregivers at Mitchell Hollingsworth who tend to her. We are also blessed with memories of our parents who are now with the Lord. <br />
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My Dad's birthdate, October 31st, and his life ended on January 30, 1991. His birthday stirred lots of memories for me in the days before and after October 31st.. He was a quiet man in many ways but a fun-loving parent, a faithful, gentle husband to our mother and, above all else, a man that studied the Word of God and had a burden for those who were hopeless, helpless and in need of the peace and joy that knowing Christ as Savior can give.<br />
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Phillip's mother, a sweet, quiet woman who was a wife, mother, grandmother and homemaker for her family, passed on to glory in October of 2001. Phillip's Dad, a hardworking man who also served his country in WW2, loved his Lord, his family and his country. We were blessed to have him in our lives until March of 2013. What a precious heritage our parents passed down to us and our children! How grateful we are for their faithful examples before us. <br />
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We have also been blessed with two more grandsons who did not have birthdays recently, but they deserved to be pictured here, too!<br />
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It's a joy when the phone rings to answer and here their voices!<br />
What a joy to hear those little "men" tell us, "I love you!" and/ or "I wish I could see you again soon." or "Guess what I learned today?" Truly, grandchildren are the blessings of our senior years, and we thank the Lord for them daily.<br />
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>We love you, John-Phillip!</i></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i style="color: #cc0000;">... And w</i></span></b><b><i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">e love you, too, Ethan!</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">This is what makes our life rich and precious - having precious loved ones to cherish and celebrate. Those who have gone before us are are still remembered, cherished and celebrated in our hearts and lives. They are very much still a part of us.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #351c75;"><b><i>Thank You, Father, for birthdays and blessings!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75;"><b><i style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Each year added to our life is a precious gift from Your hand to </i><i style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">us. We rest in You for the future ahead of us and our children and grands. Use us for your glory, and grant us wisdom, faith, hope, and peace as you see fit.</i></b></span><br />
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<i style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">There is much to pray about for our nation, our neighborhoods and our personal need for wisdom and grace to make wise decisions as we go forward. Lead us as you see fit, and use us to glorify Your name. Amen.</i></b></span><br />
<br />Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-35880409246239562092015-09-25T22:30:00.001-07:002015-09-26T13:40:55.433-07:00The parenting journey takes many twists and turns ... <i><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Thinking about my precious Mom tonight. </span></b></i> She lives across the Tennessee River in a lovely facility where she is under nursing care at all times, due to Alzheimer disease. This past Tuesday I celebrated her 91st birthday with four friends that know and love Mom -- two of whom helped me care for her when she still lived here with us. In those days, she still raised tomato plants and various plants & flowers on her deck and delighted in each growth spurt or colorful blossom.<br />
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<span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Mom doesn't yet know her children are driving in from various states to celebrate her birthday again tomorrow! She will be<i><b> so</b></i> excited when everyone gathers for her party. Those blue eyes will sparkle and a few happy tears may slip and fall, but that's okay. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">We want to celebrate her life, her can-do attitude, her appreciation for the kindness of those who assist her, her gentle spirit with other residents who are feeling poorly, and even her desire to still keep her room in good order. </span><i><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>(Bless her heart, she double checks the staff's bed-making skills and will "fix" things that aren't lined up just so. If her mattress shifts a few inches, she wants it straightened, please. Gotta love my Mom's eye for detail!)</i></div>
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I am so very grateful to still have her in my life and want to love and appreciate her every day. We all miss Daddy, who died 24 years ago with a massive heart attack. He was 68 at the time and looked to be in fine health, but atherosclerosis was taking over his blood vessels and, eventually, he had a massive heart attack. Mom still thinks of him and will sometimes ask where he is. At other times, she doesn't recognize him in photos of them together.<br />
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So each new day is another confusing struggle for her on this journey with Alzheimer disease. Bceause she was raised in hard times, Mom is strong in spirit and determination to do what needs to be done. While we were growing up at home, we often heard her say, when we were being pitiful or whiny to "buck up."<br />
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To Alzheimer patients, reality is sometimes unreal. Some dreams take Mom far away back to childhood or her young adult life and that's where she is upon waking. This means she sometimes looks around the room and tries to remember where she really is and why she isn't "back home." I am never sure what she is experiencing until I spend some time listening and observing. The Alzheimer journey means you make the effort to step into your loved one's world and let them talk about what they are thinking, experiencing, feeling, etc. That's what our parents need most -<i> to know they are not traveling this journey alone. I've found that with Mom, holding hands, singing softly, stroking her hair or patting her back can help. When she is ready to interact, she'll smile or speak.</i><br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">At other times, Mom naps while I read in a chair at the foot of her bed</span></i></b>. When she wakes up, she will usually remember me being there and smile. At other times, she will be in a dreamlike-state and say things like, "Johnnie (my father) was sitting in that very chair last night reading his Bible." I'm sure she is comforted by the thought, and I don't correct her. Sometimes she will ask if Dad is already gone, and when I see that look in her eyes - that faint remembrance of his being absent for a very long period of time - I answer her question honestly. "Yes, he is in heaven and at perfect peace." This doesn't happen very often, but when it does, she grieves his death all over again.<br />
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Though Mom's mental and physical abilities have been declining steadily, she is very aware of other things -- like a rose blossom in a vase that is needing more water ... or a fellow resident feeling poorly or upset. On many occasions, she has paddled her wheel chair over to them, patted their arm and proceeded to pray with them! <br />
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Music is important to Mom, and she still recognizes tunes of hymns we sang for so many years. I often see her hand keeping time with the music - even when her eyes are closed. <i>And I think to myself, what a blessing that she still remembers those comforting songs!</i> We also read Bible verses together, and I will pray with her. At times I've asked Mom if she'd like to pray, she speaks clearly and expresses herself better to her Heavenly Father than she does with us. Her prayers are almost always for others, not for herself.<br />
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<i><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">As we continue on this journey ... i</span></b></i><b><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">t's like waving goodbye to a loved one who goes toward the horizon on their travels to a strange land, a loved one you will miss while they are gone. When communication is infrequent or absent, your eyes will sometimes leak and your heart will get heavy because you know they are farther away with each passing day. But you pull up your courage and smile and wave anyhow and remind them that you're praying for them.</span></i></b><br />
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We have no idea how long Mom will be with us, but we will celebrate her birthday together as family and rejoice in the fact she still knows - at this point - that we are her children. She is still a sweetie, a grateful lady who freely shows her appreciation to caregivers, nurses and assistants. She likes to be with the other residents who sit around the nurses' station or in the adjoining "day area" to relax and/or catch a few winks.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">While this journey has been trying and tiresome for Mom, it is an opportunity for me to grow in things that matter: </span>Patience, courage, love, kindness, wisdom and faith. The end of the Alzheimer journey will not be the end for my Mom. When she slips from here to there, she will wake up in heaven totally healed of all disease, confusion and loneliness! Perfect peace awaits those who trust in Jesus Christ as their substitute - the perfect, sacrificial "Lamb of God." John 3:16, Ephesians 2:8-10Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-73093770225217936372015-09-15T14:15:00.001-07:002015-09-15T14:32:53.075-07:00Some journeys are pleasant, others are painful<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ever felt like you were at the end of the road with nowhere to go? </span></i></b><br />
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We used to walk down a long, lovely lane in Kentucky just off Woods Point Drive. The children were ages 3, 6 and 8 at the time, and while the two older ones on bicycles, our younger son pedaled along on his little red tricycle. It was especially lovely in autumn when the Lord touched thee maple trees with golden flames of color! The entire lane was perhaps a half mile long, but to the children, it seemed we'd never get to the end where we would turn back around.<br />
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Life can be that way at times-- it throws you a curve and you struggle along, peddling as best as you can, but your "legs get tired." It's only normal to wish you could see the end of the road where you'll rest a bit before heading back the direction you came from!<br />
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We also traveled long distances with those three little ones just to see their grandparents. While in Kentucky, we had to go south 10 hours to see Papaw and Mamaw Potter, or, if we were heading west to see Grandpa and Grandma Keltie, it was also a 10 hour trip! <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">I always packed lots of goodies to hand out along those journeys </span></i></b>-- a new book or two for each of the children, some dried fruits and nuts for snacks, a new CD of songs, etc. Other times, I'd sit in the back with them and play board games while the scenery zipped by outside. I'd also packed favorite read-aloud books and ... thank you whoever invented earphones (!) ... story tapes they could listen to while their Daddy and I chatted up front.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEJbfwWjQLBuuaO8H9WsN5_juNh3nVL3aWvZw0IOmWojjnMIM86Ry-DXvVoHep0lajNWTXyGDizJ0wuKvyV7QDji5tgR0ON5ji1bS4kVS1HEjRuVzZmWeN_xbsmDsT6Osfl13myM8Qqp-/s1600/Cloud+from+highway+driving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEJbfwWjQLBuuaO8H9WsN5_juNh3nVL3aWvZw0IOmWojjnMIM86Ry-DXvVoHep0lajNWTXyGDizJ0wuKvyV7QDji5tgR0ON5ji1bS4kVS1HEjRuVzZmWeN_xbsmDsT6Osfl13myM8Qqp-/s320/Cloud+from+highway+driving.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
We bought our travel van especially for a trip out West, and <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">I remember their excitement during the planning stages</span></i></b>. We mapped our trip to see the Cowboy National Museum (Oklahoma), Crater National Park (Arkansas) Grand Canyon (Arizona), Sequoia National Park, Redwood Forest and the western coast scenery along Highway 10 (California). Then there was Old Faithful ( ), Mt. Rushmore, the Corn Palace (yes, outer wall murals made from kernels of corn!) and the HUGE Kennicott Copper Mine and the Dinosaur National Park in Utah.<br />
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That van put in a lot of miles, and we made a lot of good memories. The only thing about traveling that seemed monotonous was turning back east and heading home. You know, the sing-song voice of <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">"Are we almost there yet?" </span></i></b>;-) But I wouldn't take a million dollars for those experiences and the time we spent with our children. It was not just vacation -- we were soaking up some amazing life-long memories and fascinating facts for the rest of our lives. But yes, the home stretch was a good thing after 21 days of travel - even if it would take awhile to get back in the swing of things.<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">Fast forward to an "unpleasant journey" I experienced</span></i></b> in the spring of 2014. One morning when I started to get up, I could not stand without crying out in pain. Electric-like shocks raced down my lower back and were shooting into my left leg. After 15-20 minutes, the pain would lessen, It was odd that it only occurred when I had been sitting or lying down - something that made the doctors scratch their heads. They'd never had a sciatica case quite like mine before, and they weren't sure it was sciatica, but that's what they tentatively labeled it. One doctor gave me a shot in the lower back to block pain, but it didn't work. Day after day the pain was present, and I was unable to function as usual. That problem lingered for 3 months -- something doctors, therapists, our faithful chiropractor and no one else could ever figure out nor solve. <br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">I was exhausted by traveling that road and wanted to get back "home,"</span></i></b> to life as I used to know it. Oh, to be mobile and pain free again ... especially since our son was graduating with his MBA in June and we had planned to make the 12-hour trip. As things stood then, I didn't see how I could go at all, and that broke my heart.<br />
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After on particularly-bad day, I was washing a few dishes at the sink when tears began to fall into the dishwater. Basically, <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">I gave up all hope of recovery and cried out to the Lord</span></i></b> in desperation that day. "Father, You are the Great Physician, and You know exactly what is going on. If You are willing to heal me, You can, but I don't deserve Your favor, nor do I make any demands. If you choose not to heal me, I'm going to need a lot of grace to get through this pain in the days to come. I so wanted to go see Jason graduate, Father! Give me grace. It's in Your hands, and I surrender it to you."<br />
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Up to that time I had been sleeping sitting up in a recliner for 8-10 weeks due to the pain of getting out of bed. That evening, after a good cry and the exhaustion that accompanied it, I made a decision. <span style="color: #990000;"><b><i>I wanted to sleep in a real bed ... no matter what it might cost me in pain</i></b></span> the next morning. So I went to bed, went to sleep and slept all night. The next morning, I slowly stretched my left leg and tentatively moved my body toward the edge of the bed. So far, so good. I "tested the waters" by putting one foot on the floor and then the other. And then stood up and - for the first time in months - without pain!! All I can say is, the Lord graciously healed me, and the doctors were dumbfounded by it all. Since then, I have done well and have never experienced that particular problem again. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n8g6gPh_cuGg-c1SULVBE5s_yUPdOKrmr6I_tVaMvJNnJf6sVCM5H5F2Y6krXwPqUOfp2wuE1eSOHRSJPKwPyTlEu5-0pKLVkEww68MYhkCzLPgz8Qx9rJLEWz90DHCJFsxPYdAz0E1T/s1600/Autumn+along+a+fence+row.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n8g6gPh_cuGg-c1SULVBE5s_yUPdOKrmr6I_tVaMvJNnJf6sVCM5H5F2Y6krXwPqUOfp2wuE1eSOHRSJPKwPyTlEu5-0pKLVkEww68MYhkCzLPgz8Qx9rJLEWz90DHCJFsxPYdAz0E1T/s320/Autumn+along+a+fence+row.jpg" width="236" /></a><br />
Sometimes journeys are pleasant, like our vacation out West or that long-awaited trip to see family and friends. <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">At times, our journeys may be painful </span></i></b>-- the loss of a loved one, the agony of a lingering illness or an unexpected injury. There are also painful journeys of stress, financial problems, natural disasters and more!<br />
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While the painful journeys are ones we'd rather not take, most of us will find ourselves along those roads at one time or another. One thing we must remember, however: There is an end to the journey at some point, and we will find peace and relief in the end. During the meantime, <i><b><span style="color: #990000;">the Lord promises to be with His children every step of the way. </span></b></i> Sometimes He may hold our hand and at other times carry us on His shoulders, but one thing is certain ...<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">He will never, ever leave us nor forsake us. </span></i></b><br />
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<br />Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-35976696946155267182015-09-14T03:46:00.001-07:002015-09-21T18:25:48.999-07:00Raising our sons to be men ...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTR1-LhKsO9lRyWk1Te0PFA82vuaCg8ASmL5fEuMS9NTKoCZG2a3mUHl5SyUGhVqlKmQJ8kNsDqqj4WeYH-tPu2-uymaE3U5b4P1z1LQrzMCHxfLeMXk-6_anTV393_MknfZqeOcc4A_ds/s1600-h/Jason+Cody+in+Mommy%27s+office.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436860755132844162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTR1-LhKsO9lRyWk1Te0PFA82vuaCg8ASmL5fEuMS9NTKoCZG2a3mUHl5SyUGhVqlKmQJ8kNsDqqj4WeYH-tPu2-uymaE3U5b4P1z1LQrzMCHxfLeMXk-6_anTV393_MknfZqeOcc4A_ds/s400/Jason+Cody+in+Mommy's+office.jpg" style="float: left; height: 210px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 269px;" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><b><i>There's just something about raising boys! </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We raised two sons of our own and now have four precious grandsons. I can honestly say there is a lot of joy in raising boys. Let me explain ...</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">A baby boy is a man in the making</span></i></b>, pre-wired with all that's needed to develop into an adult male. Thankfully, he doesn't sport any whiskers or smelly armpits ... yet! Still dependent on his Mama, he cuddles next to her and pats her face. Then he opens his little mouth and plants warm, slobbery kisses on her cheek, chin or forehead. Not once does he worry someone will think he is a "sissy." And we mothers love it!<br />
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As they grow, most little boys enjoy toys like little Hotwheels, tractors, Lincoln logs and Legos. They also enjoy bikes, sports, going fishing and hiking in the woods (while moms worry about snakes).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAd79n_9PB5tjsA44lvMyWYl9Wn5w8kUTBMi6gmamdZJFj0Gms9P_KIspKfbt-Ix-TUzyIOdHnnl1yYPxO1P2IZyk8E6m5XDpM_jS1cR4c_ro1TUE3xLQ00OkD6FIhYP5DsQQg2ZJ7KS2/s1600-h/Hauling+hay.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437781930077666994" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAd79n_9PB5tjsA44lvMyWYl9Wn5w8kUTBMi6gmamdZJFj0Gms9P_KIspKfbt-Ix-TUzyIOdHnnl1yYPxO1P2IZyk8E6m5XDpM_jS1cR4c_ro1TUE3xLQ00OkD6FIhYP5DsQQg2ZJ7KS2/s400/Hauling+hay.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 203px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 324px;" /></a><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">The boys we raised </span></i></b>didn't mind getting dirty, either. They weren't too particular about mud or grass stains or holes in their jeans. If they were called on to work the farm, they flexed their little-boy muscles and pitched in. If someone said "Isn't that heavy?" they would more than likely swagger a bit and say, "Naw!" (Photo: Kevin in the middle, Jason on the right, friend Kyle on the left).<br />
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Boys don't mind the rain like girls do, either. They don't have to worry about their hair or makeup, nor do they mind stomping through any puddle in their path. Now and then, when we had a really good rain that caused low-land flooding and run-off, our rural drainage ditches would practically boil over with muddy water. And that attracts a real boy!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHuIee2d6MgxOBojIhe3bQphlfNhXsnQZONrm0_vFKHpUiN_0g-Iiet7YlJoUaO8uHYiT7vrPkxDa5AAgQbAWmNMci2Iti-_z9IW4IzSOYGkSftP1Wq46sY8sRAOHEpdu_LX6mxjZyXEbF/s1600-h/Kevin+in+mud+wash2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437832663577961250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHuIee2d6MgxOBojIhe3bQphlfNhXsnQZONrm0_vFKHpUiN_0g-Iiet7YlJoUaO8uHYiT7vrPkxDa5AAgQbAWmNMci2Iti-_z9IW4IzSOYGkSftP1Wq46sY8sRAOHEpdu_LX6mxjZyXEbF/s200/Kevin+in+mud+wash2.jpg" style="float: left; height: 313px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 250px;" width="159" /></a><br />
In my experience (having grown up with a brother and later being blessed with two sons and four grandsons), I've learned <b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">younger boys are pretty low-maintenance</span></i></b>. If you give them room to run and a few simple toys, they can entertain themselves for hours and hours. With a little free time, their imaginations kick in and toys will often become unnecessary.<br />
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When not infatuated with electronic gadgets, most boys will get outdoors and explore their world. Before cell phones and iPads, our son and his best buddy next door went outdoors a lot to climb hills and bluffs, to plan and build a cave for an escape route in case of enemy attacks. Another time, they designed plans for a fort, "just in case." Nobody suggested it - they just did it <span style="color: #0b5394;"><i><b>b</b></i></span><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">ecause they were boys.</span></i></b><br />
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Another important point: Boys are fairly easy to feed. As long as there is good food and enough of it to fill their tummies, they're fine. If it's up to them, they'd gladly palm a sandwich and run back outdoors with their "fast food." When moms insist on having them sit down, nice dinnerware and attention to manners can be a painful experience for boys. They'd much rather wolf it down, slurp their drinks and let out a good belch when they're finished.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-04y6n6VE3G29e66KFn47qiBjnVaTSTQ5YZZoOXuOS2FwR9CXio7MpPcdGapUZLZb4bFdUwjHhsN-VQiT_ludT_0KKTLdYKtHu7Ybs9X8ejsUHWKx6fgYP_8IRGmfnBU_a_KbDYsZqfue/s1600/family-eating-l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-04y6n6VE3G29e66KFn47qiBjnVaTSTQ5YZZoOXuOS2FwR9CXio7MpPcdGapUZLZb4bFdUwjHhsN-VQiT_ludT_0KKTLdYKtHu7Ybs9X8ejsUHWKx6fgYP_8IRGmfnBU_a_KbDYsZqfue/s200/family-eating-l.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><i>But any mother worth her</i></b></span><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;"> salt</span></i></b> will insist, now and then, on setting a fine table. She'll use her best dishes, arrange the flatware properly and add a nice centerpiece or candles. This is called introducing our sons to "culture." One day those same fellas are going to be young men. At a formal dinner or nice restaurant they will feel awkward and embarrassed if they don't know how to conduct themselves. That's why the Lord gave boys their mothers, right?<br />
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Little men-in-the-making also enjoy flexing their muscles and playing the part of brave knights, warriors and heroes. They have an inborn tendency to protect or rescue the helpless and display their bravado on any occasion. Thus, the plastic swords, swaggering walk and slingshots on the floor of their closet or tucked under their beds. And that should make us moms feel much safer, you know. But one thing we must never do, and that is to tease or ridicule their attempts to play the grown-male role. Thank your sons for carrying heavy packages, pushing the loaded grocery cart and checking to see if doors are locked before bedtime or on the way out before leaving for a trip to town.<br />
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Young sons play act, but they are also seriously preparing for the read deal - the important role of protector and family man some day. In their play, they don't try to negotiate with serious enemies -- they just wrestle them down and tie them up or throw them in jail .. all in the name of patriotism, play-acting and male bravado. You see, if we encourage and allow them to act out these situations in play, they will grow up to be strong young men with convictions of right and wrong and the courage needed to defend and protect their own families one day. <br />
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<i><span style="color: #073763;"><b>But every now and then</b></span></i>, boys need to put down their toy swords and other weapons to read a good book... or have one read aloud <i><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>to</b></span></i> them. When they're toddlers, their books may be soft and fuzzy farm books or books about all kinds of trucks and cars.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXddusu5roUJF3VgYRCDEgzxxetAEFpwNujeH354XKRr2r8hIo_3nog3WkBvxsPYQ2D7kDP7l64ldExKTNSUOBENWvRFAQS2m2wBztiDswn89aJzFUauL4tXPhS3zmrKmt3f22x3d-DJoo/s1600/Melissa+reads+to+Kevin+1987+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXddusu5roUJF3VgYRCDEgzxxetAEFpwNujeH354XKRr2r8hIo_3nog3WkBvxsPYQ2D7kDP7l64ldExKTNSUOBENWvRFAQS2m2wBztiDswn89aJzFUauL4tXPhS3zmrKmt3f22x3d-DJoo/s320/Melissa+reads+to+Kevin+1987+001.jpg" width="320" /></a> <b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">As they grow</span></i></b>, their story books should also include topics that prepare them for manhood... books about the great outdoors, tracking animals, hunting and fishing, how to set up a tent or shelter, how to cook over a wood fire and all kinds of outdoor adventure and the safety rules that go with those adventures. Other good book titles will introduce them to heroes and inventors, famous scientists and businessmen, historical and contemporary men that are to be admired. This gives boys an opportunity to daydream about all kinds of adventures and careers.<br />
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As we are blessed to visit with our children and interact with <i><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">our grandsons </span></b></i>- two in Virginia and two in south Alabama - I see the little men inside them already developing. They like tractors and trains, building Lincoln log forts, riding with Papaw on his tractor and running around outdoors. I pray they will be fine young men like their Dads.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8N3TABnQcpPMGnj6c6wGrQZQRfEyGaGMQ-VH50BCj-vmebJtmNcQMKVwmETDu9JRP77bUOljUgY8YyWdAKGnQ-y6ef_nACHP3L5ctrkGCy0imtpljx24EcludvOPH4BaL0KSPg0FvNi_/s1600/father+and+boy+silhouette_picture_167872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8N3TABnQcpPMGnj6c6wGrQZQRfEyGaGMQ-VH50BCj-vmebJtmNcQMKVwmETDu9JRP77bUOljUgY8YyWdAKGnQ-y6ef_nACHP3L5ctrkGCy0imtpljx24EcludvOPH4BaL0KSPg0FvNi_/s1600/father+and+boy+silhouette_picture_167872.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">We Moms do have a lot of impact</span></b></i> </span>in our sons' lives, and that is also part of God's plan. We teach them how they are to treat girls and ladies. We love them as they are, because God's plan for boys is to grow up and become brave, strong men. He has a grand purpose for their lives, and we as parents are to train them while they are young to follow His leading. What a joy it is to be part of God's plan in shaping them in their younger years. Thank You, Lord, for our sons and our four young grandsons!<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">What a blessing it is to experience the joys of boys ... again!</span></i></b>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-9387806457323704502015-07-14T07:41:00.003-07:002016-10-31T15:44:51.110-07:00Self Esteem vs. Self Worth<b><i><span style="color: #6aa84f;">We hear so much about self-esteem these days -- but what does the word self-esteem really mean?</span></i></b><br />
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If you look up the word "esteem" in older dictionaries, the definition usually reads, "to highly regard or treasure something or someone" and to hold them up as worthy of honor. If we teach children to have a lot of self-esteem, they will highly regard, treasure and focus on themselves and may become an obnoxious person ... reminding others of all their accomplishments, good traits, intelligence, etc. Why not teach them to regard others highly?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzN9euqGnBB8xVTAO-VCnYXLKAea1cTWvlvEe9ilVuiAiQ66wcpYncqE8zMvMPyULj3DVCqRSzMAm4rDHmfjN3Fg0LJKsI33-POmQBhQ31zg6wTxyFBIg2JNgFzmWvLcSvRiuLXdYvgXd/s1600/angry-kid-spoiled-child-200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzN9euqGnBB8xVTAO-VCnYXLKAea1cTWvlvEe9ilVuiAiQ66wcpYncqE8zMvMPyULj3DVCqRSzMAm4rDHmfjN3Fg0LJKsI33-POmQBhQ31zg6wTxyFBIg2JNgFzmWvLcSvRiuLXdYvgXd/s1600/angry-kid-spoiled-child-200x300.jpg" /></a><b><i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Today's dictionary says the word "esteem" means</span></span> </i></b>to "treasure, respect, honor and/or revere." Whether you take the old definition or the new, our children are still getting the same message. They are hearing how important it is to honor themselves, favor themselves and boast of their talents and abilities. This teaches our children they don't have to earn respect ... they automatically deserve it! Perhaps another hyphenated word should replace the preaching of self-esteem. <br />
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The word "self-worth" is a perfectly good word and means something entirely different than self-esteem. Self worth is something we all need to cultivate -- it helps us avoid being pitiful people that put ourselves down all the time, feel sorry for ourselves, make excuses for our failures and expect special favors. Self-worth helps us acknowledge that everyone, including all ages, stages, nationalities, abilities, intelligence and more has worth in God's eyes -- because He created us. We are gifted in different ways, and everyone has something to share with the world. <br />
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It doesn't have to be a star talent - it can simply be a pleasant smile of encouragement. For instance, next time you eat out, compliment your hostess or server on what they do well. Observe the clean-up crew working hard to wipe tables, clean up spills and prepare a used table for the next guests who are waiting. Give them a thumbs up and a smile or a "good job" comment. Your children are listening, and it will be a good lesson for them. You are showing, by example, that everyone has self-worth and is important, if it's sweeping floors, greeting shoppers with a smile, cleaning dirty windows or running a small business. Every job is truly as important as any other job, and if they are left undone, we notice right away.<br />
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<i><b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">On the other hand,</span></b></i> teaching self-esteem can actually produce in them the desire for special attention, honor, favoritism and more. It can produce an inward focus instead of an outward focus, and children who are constantly the center of attention often become obnoxious. We've all seen children in the store with parents or grandparents, and it's obvious who's in control. They don't just ask for something, they demand it! If the parents don't comply, they pitch fits, strike bargains, make deals and sometimes physically abuse a parent with a slap or kick in order to get what they want. <br />
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Where did the line go? You know, the one we as children were taught not to cross with the adults in our lives? Sadly, the line has often been ignored, smudged, or totally erased by many parents. In a desire to be their child's best friend, parents too often pacify or placate the children. Who wins, in the long run? Neither parent nor child. There is simply an ongoing dance through life placating the child's desire to be in control. <br />
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Why don't we try a more healthy approach to help children learn confidence, leadership skills and even how to serve others, which is a good thing. Instead of self-esteem, we choose to teach our children self-worth. Every person - rich or poor, sick or healthy, famous or unknown, has intrinsic value or worth simply because they are a human being and part of our society. Every individual has thoughts, needs, desires, hopes and dreams. They want to feel included, helpful and appreciated. <br />
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Let's cultivate self-worth in our children instead of preaching self-esteem. Those who are trying to help children develop their talents and abilities and to show kindness to others are actually teaching self-worth. They just haven't heard the word used enough to realize it. Let's take it to heart and remember this: <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b><i>We </i></b><i><b>parents and grandparents, (along with and our children and grandchildren) have at least one ability or gift we can share with the world. This gives us a healthy view of self, or reminds us we have self-worth. What is your gift? More on that later!</b></i></span>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-89641055013355027292015-07-12T16:34:00.000-07:002015-09-19T08:34:50.510-07:00A Sincere Apology<h4>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">Dear Reader ... </i></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>A website I wrote for was bought out and eventually shut down. As a result, the links to that site no longer show up on my blog. </i></span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Until I can download them all from my own personal computer, feel free to scroll through my 150+ posts that are here. I believe you'll find some encouragement, laughter and common sense to help you through the parenting stage you are currently in. </i></span></h4>
<h4>
<i style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">N</i><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">an</i></h4>
Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-57347118216102219582014-05-09T21:20:00.002-07:002014-05-09T21:28:28.131-07:00A tribute to Mom - 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHksQgwwcKsdAXE8CwdgPrvwctrVv1ubWHuWCe1PNhR3RL0-bs7HNiTVqTzhW0Rvd8F9W6l6PDv6hoDv4kj9vBAeFSfXFwh1tLM0cjKugDIHoibNEDAZ_9SMAd1XE8jsWC47lPm78rJvDA/s1600/Mom+and+me+at+MH+for+her+birthday+party+cropped+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHksQgwwcKsdAXE8CwdgPrvwctrVv1ubWHuWCe1PNhR3RL0-bs7HNiTVqTzhW0Rvd8F9W6l6PDv6hoDv4kj9vBAeFSfXFwh1tLM0cjKugDIHoibNEDAZ_9SMAd1XE8jsWC47lPm78rJvDA/s1600/Mom+and+me+at+MH+for+her+birthday+party+cropped+copy.jpg" height="248" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><b><span style="color: #45818e;">Thinking about Mom tonight, and some reasons she is so special to her family ...</span></b></i><br />
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Mom has never been very tall, but to us, she stands head & shoulders above other moms. That's because of what she means to us and what she meant to our precious Daddy during their 47 years of marriage. There are several things about our mother we'd like to share ...<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><b><i>Mom has always served others.</i></b> <span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;">When she was just a </span></span></span></span>young girl, Mom was expected to make wise decisions when alone with her older sister, who was disabled. She also had to keep an eye on two feisty little brothers while her parents worked in the fields. During those years, there was very little time for Mom to be a child or to play much. She learned early to cook, clean and nurse others, including her own mother who sometimes spent weeks in bed due to Bright's disease, a serious kidney disease. Through the years, she has served in other ways -- working as a college cook, sewing for the public, setting up and managing bookstores, teaching classes and opening our home to missionaries, evangelists and others who visited our family.<br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b>Mom has always been creative.</b></i></span> <br />
As a child, she liked to draw and would often sit up late at night to doodle or sketch by lamplight. She was also creative in clothing her five daughters. Mom see a dress in a store window or a magazine and then sketch on newspaper what she'd seen in order to make a pattern. Once she chose the fabric, she'd stitch up a lovely outfit for one of us girls, always adding a little something to make it unique. <br />
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She was creative in many other ways, too, and made our home neat and attractive on a very slim budget. I remember the pretty curtains, drapes, bedspreads and tablecloths she made, along with her knack for upholstering furniture. She also painted, wallpapered and worked hard to make our house look cozy and pretty. Mom also was creative with words -- penning lots of poems and writing helpful articles. One of her writings on bereavement was published and is still being distributed.<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #45818e;">Mom has always loved to garden. </span></i></b><br />
Her parents saw her active interest in growing things and designated a 12 x 12 plot on the family farm for her use. Our mother laid out a well-kept garden of flowers and plants that thrived, and once the gardening bug bit Mom, she was hooked for life. When we were kids, our yard was a colorful canvas of tiger lilies, roses, dahlias, princess feathers, petunias, cannas, and more. Out back there was a vegetable garden that put lots of fresh food on the table in summer and canned and frozen foods for winter. <br />
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<i><b><span style="color: #45818e;">Mom has always loved to learn. </span></b></i><br />
To her, school was a wonderful challenge and a break from responsibilities at home. She learned quickly and developed a beautiful handwriting that was often complimented. Mom had to drop out of school before graduation to help with the house and farm due to her mother's sick spells. She and Daddy loved learning what we children learned at school and kept up with news and current events. Mom regretted not finishing, so at the age of 50, she studied for and received her GED, then went on to graduate college at the age of 55. <br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b>Mom has always been a lady through and through. </b></i></span><br />
In her growing up years, women were taught to be modest and ladylike. Oh, that didn't meant she couldn't wear dungarees or slide into home base when she played ball with her brothers! Nor did it mean she couldn't fish or hunt or shoot well ... or pitch a mean game of horseshoes. Yes, Mom was quite competitive, and when she and Daddy were a young couple, Mom outdid several of the men target practicing at a family reunion when she shot the head off a matchstick. ;-) <br />
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But she was a lady, too. Daddy treated Mom so tenderly and always had his arm around her waist or shoulder when they stood together. He also complimented her often, and we kids knew that before he came home from work each evening, she would powder her nose and put on fresh lipstick. What fun it was to see him literally sweep her off her feet while she squeal and said, "Honey!"<br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b>Mom has been - and still is - a woman of faith. </b></i></span><br />
She loves the Lord and knows that without Him, we have no hope or help in time of need. She and Daddy taught us Bible verses and that it was important to put our trust in God. During our growing up years, we always knelt around the old couch and had prayers before bedtime. As a resident here, Mom continues to reach out to others who are lonely or upset and has tried to encourage them and pray for them. <br />
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<i><b><span style="color: #45818e;">Our Mom is one of a kind. </span></b></i> She loved us, taught us, nursed us when we were ill, corrected us when we misbehaved and taught us to be respectful. She also taught us to work hard and be honest, to love our siblings and try not to argue with them. :-) Our Mom will always be Mother of the Year to her six children. <i><b><span style="color: #45818e;"> Love you bunches, Mom!</span></b></i>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-3727961299808112502014-04-01T21:03:00.003-07:002014-04-01T21:16:45.401-07:00What goes around comes around ...<span style="color: #45818e;"><b><i>Our son with his sons, Jason Cody (4) and John Phillip (7 months).</i></b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsiD9SxqSGcbdB7xpk29koIu9Q2iWsy9mlmyLl8kLwI6WSCmTUYGnEFSpYE9balyjQ4Rmp4ZDiCbYBewKe94XjuByAZuphh7-Sgnpnx6o2tFOyR43H9rdmWFzTv6Q1RcjHuOLJiyUIaKb/s1600/B&W+Our+son+with+his+sons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsiD9SxqSGcbdB7xpk29koIu9Q2iWsy9mlmyLl8kLwI6WSCmTUYGnEFSpYE9balyjQ4Rmp4ZDiCbYBewKe94XjuByAZuphh7-Sgnpnx6o2tFOyR43H9rdmWFzTv6Q1RcjHuOLJiyUIaKb/s1600/B&W+Our+son+with+his+sons.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
I'm thinking of our older son tonight and chuckling about our last phone chat. We were discussing his younger son's new efforts to crawl -- hitch up on hands and knees, move one knee forward, etc. and try to get where he's going. But he hasn't quite got the hang of it <i>yet</i>.<br />
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Big brother Jason Cody is a good helper and keeps an eye on little John-Phillip when he's up and around. Just like our daughter did with her baby brother thirty years ago.<br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b>So I did a bit of reminiscing</b></i> ...</span><br />
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... and told Jason about <i>his</i> escapades as a child. Especially the part about not sleeping more than two or three hours straight for the first 15 months of his life! Seriously. But, I told him, "you were pleasant when you woke up, and when you called out in that sweet little voice,<i> "Aaaah?,"</i> I jumped out of bed to go to him. I certainly didn't want his babbling to wake his older sister... or his Dad, who had to get up and go to work early.<br />
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Many nights I pulled out a box of toys for Jason to play with while I rested on the couch beside him. We were content there, just he and me (or is it he and I?) in the quiet of the night. Nobody disturbed his 45 minutes or so of one-on-one time with Mom, and he was a pleasant baby. Maybe someone reading this right now is thinking, "You shouldn't have rewarded him with play time - you should have put him back to bed."<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><b><i> </i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #45818e;"><b><i>That's easy to say and much harder to accomplish.</i></b></span><br />
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If I had put him back to bed in the tiny room he shared with Melissa, I would soon have *two* children awake and in the living room -- a midnight play date, so to speak. And now, it turns out, my son has a son just like him. ;-) And we love our grandson dearly!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHyogKfnEXMGNmfKInr1p1Dlja1ucAuxZ9E7zU8HWzhtFPjVcYIlpPZ50a9nPW4npmnvItPMl6JppV0GbHhWfuMRs85f6xITYVxTM4N73HLKMfEtK07M-tCSi3EzyjeT_izSthretbNd5/s1600/John-Phillip+at+7+months.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHyogKfnEXMGNmfKInr1p1Dlja1ucAuxZ9E7zU8HWzhtFPjVcYIlpPZ50a9nPW4npmnvItPMl6JppV0GbHhWfuMRs85f6xITYVxTM4N73HLKMfEtK07M-tCSi3EzyjeT_izSthretbNd5/s1600/John-Phillip+at+7+months.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>John-Phillip is a cheerful little tyke with a smile that goes straight to your heart. He reminds me a lot of his Daddy at that age -- busy, bright-eyed and a bundle of energy. How could anyone resist spending time with this baby, no matter the hour of day or night? <br />
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Before we hung up, Jason shared that his wife had a dream about John-Phillip walking into their room one night.<i> "I told her that I think the crawl stage is to fake us out and he's already exploring the house while we sleep." </i><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b>Ahhh. what goes around comes around, son. </b></i></span><i><b></b></i><span style="color: #45818e;"><b><i>Your son is carrying on your "night owl" habits!</i></b></span><br />
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<br />Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-51563029576333164942014-03-27T07:47:00.000-07:002014-03-27T21:00:23.344-07:00Parenting with your child's heart in mind <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-MckhuBVCfl2ww-ySkoP0h6TIafNTuDFgCi3LAUTKizKkR60qHHxDn0coXSyvMmJKL-RoL5u_5gIaAFiwG_fXYO7-Ov1VgFEaM8geaWiaTl0sMPxz7cf8S1tJ3i1R7c8jFOuZY2M-XwSc/s1600/Nice+table+setting+and+food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-MckhuBVCfl2ww-ySkoP0h6TIafNTuDFgCi3LAUTKizKkR60qHHxDn0coXSyvMmJKL-RoL5u_5gIaAFiwG_fXYO7-Ov1VgFEaM8geaWiaTl0sMPxz7cf8S1tJ3i1R7c8jFOuZY2M-XwSc/s1600/Nice+table+setting+and+food.jpg" /></a>We went out to supper recently and were blessed to have a wonderful server. Malia was 21, working her way through college and had a personality as bright as her smile. Each time she stopped by to check on us, we admired her poise, her friendly manner and the way she took her job seriously.<br />
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What a surprise to learn she'd never before worked as a server and was only six months into her job! As we chatted, Malia told us more about herself, her home life and how her Mom raised her as a single parent. <br />
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About the time our food arrived, a young couple with a child about 18 months was seated at the next table over. During our meal that evening, I was pleasantly surprised by that tiny little girl's behavior. She did exceptionally well and made very little noise compared to what you might expect from a tiny tot. In fact, she was so subdued and well-behaved that I whispered to hubby, "They must be good parents to have trained her so well."<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b>Turns out, that wasn't the case ...</b></i></span><br />
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A bit later, when Malia brought their food to them, she was assisted by a young man who carried a second tray of food. They were placing food on the table when we heard the little girl's father grumble about something and then finish off loudly,<i> "How stupid can you be!?" </i> <br />
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The berating voice continued, and the volume increased. What must it be like to live with a husband/father like that? Folks all around us began to turn around and see what was going on. The young man who had been helping serve food was red-faced and humiliated, but Malia was calm, pleasant and unruffled. Though quite young and new to the job, she stood there and handled the situation without getting ruffled. <br />
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We overheard (as I'm sure other diners did), that the man was upset because the assistant placed a plate on the table too close to their toddler. Whatever happened, his reaction was rude and definitely "overkill." Our hearts went out to that young server as he dropped his head and went back to the kitchen. Malia continued to stand calmly and apologize, then walked away to check on other customers she was serving. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVF0lEJf6Q2MFgaq02-BCNR0NfbIRv0rrwMvnl9HDXPI28kEM1ftLLXi3Rmy1zNH7R9nKYfYjAnlYd-lUo-KkLcepQTq90xhdJ8QPtg2JZjkebltWV52_ZW_OBTkGHBJ5DM7HvxJkz5dKA/s1600/Sad+little+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVF0lEJf6Q2MFgaq02-BCNR0NfbIRv0rrwMvnl9HDXPI28kEM1ftLLXi3Rmy1zNH7R9nKYfYjAnlYd-lUo-KkLcepQTq90xhdJ8QPtg2JZjkebltWV52_ZW_OBTkGHBJ5DM7HvxJkz5dKA/s1600/Sad+little+girl.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
Each time she passed by that area, the man spoke up again. His complaint was that something<i> "Wasn't even cooked right and is the worst I've ever eaten!" </i>Malia offered to start fresh and change their orders, but he refused, using some choice words along the way. Again, Malia was calm. It reminded me of how she'd earlier bragged on her Mom for raising her alone and what a good Mom she was during some tough times. She certainly instilled in her daughter a calm, sweet spirit.<br />
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On the other hand, the little girl at that table was extremely quiet and subdued during this escapade. I no longer mistook it for calm behavior -- she had probably learned at home to avoid her father's temper, and my heart went out to her. Sadly, before the evening was over, the mother also joined in and began talking rudely to Malia saying, <i>"I don't even like this chicken, and I'm not going to pay for something that wasn't done right." </i><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b><i>That's when it hit me ...</i></b></span><br />
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Our son had told us when he worked in a restaurant about something similar. Seems some folks come in with an agenda: They will eat what they want but complain about it at the same time to the server. If they continue to complain, the restaurant has a policy -- if you aren't pleased, you don't have to pay. And you guessed it -- it's a scam and a pitiful thing when people go out to eat with complaining in mind. They've learned how to eat out free -- find something wrong with the meal.<br />
Some even go as far as to put a hair in their food and act shocked when they "find it."<br />
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I don't know if that young couple came out to supper with a bad attitude to get a free meal or not. Either way, it was a rude display of emotion in public and was unnecessary ... and a bad example for a little child to follow. I left the restaurant with a broken heart for that child and felt angry toward her parents. The Lord calmed me down and reminded me to pray for them, instead.<br />
<i><span style="color: #38761d;"><b><br /></b></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>A bright ending ...</b></span></i><br />
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Thankfully, our evening ended on a good note. We got to enjoy Malia's sweet service and smile a couple more times after the big "blow-up." We took the opportunity to tell her she was an amazing young lady and a great server. My hubby also sought out the restaurant manager and put in a good word for how Malia handled the situation.<i><b> </b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
What did we learn that evening? Two girls - one a toddler, raised in an obviously unstable home with two parents who are most likely full of anger and complaints. The other, a precious young lady named Malia, raised in a loving, stable atmosphere with only one parent that taught her to look on the bright side and to be pleasant and polite, no matter what. <br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>Parenting by heart (with your child's heart in mind) makes all the difference!</b></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Photo above is not the little girl mentioned in the article</i>. </span><i><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="color: black;"><b> </b></span><b><br /></b></span></i><br />
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<br />Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-3252196083643402972014-03-24T08:43:00.001-07:002014-03-24T17:37:26.058-07:00What our children need from us ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3pHEU7qNz3BKKhVjZJHCYgGBMRz7zDppfembNvkerTG47HH_BXMyOXfyTd4bWOGa7YIWVixXbsDnLx8Hj2AKfXoy01xthgX8ZVzJcOtU7XJRKi4KPxpnver8g5UVyXw_RIPt1Sest_Fe/s1600/Jason+in+ball+uniform.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3pHEU7qNz3BKKhVjZJHCYgGBMRz7zDppfembNvkerTG47HH_BXMyOXfyTd4bWOGa7YIWVixXbsDnLx8Hj2AKfXoy01xthgX8ZVzJcOtU7XJRKi4KPxpnver8g5UVyXw_RIPt1Sest_Fe/s1600/Jason+in+ball+uniform.jpg" height="320" width="234" /></a></div>
Ah, it's the time of year when the kids suit up and the parents sit on the sidelines or bleachers. <i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Play ball!</span> </i> There's a lot of excitement, commitment and even sacrifices involved when you let your children pursue their dreams.<br />
<br />
And there are those niggling questions in the back of our minds, too. <i>Are
organized sports for children a necessary evil? Is competition
healthy, or does it produce more problems than it's worth? Is my child
ready for this?</i><br />
<br />
Our son Jason was enthralled with all-things-sports at a very early
age. He heard people talk about the Cincinnati Reds (when we lived near
Ohio,) and got to attend a couple games with his Dad and other young
boys at church. From the roar of the crowd to the hot dogs and popcorn,
it was father-son bonding at its best.<br />
<br />
Jason also saved his hard-earned allowance to collect and trade baseball
cards. He listened to games on the radio and knew the players by names
and positions they played. He could tell you how many hits or
strikeouts they had in a game -- and who ended up being MVP. I couldn't
complain too much, because it was Jason's desire to read the stats on
the back of each card that actually improved his reading skills. <i style="color: #990000;">Yes!</i> <br />
<br />
After we moved to Alabama, my hubby and our son went to see the Atlanta
Braves in action. Back then, I tried to remember all their names, the
positions they played, their manager's name and temperament, etc. I
wanted our son to know I really did care about my son's interests, and it was a
fun way to connect with a son who was usually pretty quiet. His eyes would light up while
telling me the latest sports news, and I treasure those memories.<br />
<br />
It was common practice for Jason to gather up all the neighbor boys and
bring them to our yard for after-school practice. When fresh cookies
came out of my oven, they'd drop their mitts and come running. Our
kitchen was full of energetic boys babbling baseball stats and giving
one another high-fives on their accomplishments in the front yard.
After the cookies were gone, they'd thank me and dash back out to
continue their game.<br />
<br />
When our son asked about playing on a local league, we looked into it.
Turns out the L.A. Dodgers were looking for new players. <i>(L.A. as in Leighton, Alabama, that is.)</i>
During orientation, we met and talked with the coach and got to know
the other parents. Uniforms were ordered and the waiting game began.
When his came in, I remember how our son eye's lit up the first time he
tried it on. We also noticed the way his confidence increased. He was part of a team! <br />
<br />
A few years later, basketball was the game of choice -- perhaps because
his legs were long, his hands were huge and he was good at rebounds.
Whatever the reason, he practiced at our goal for hours on end. I
loved looking out the kitchen window to see him dash about the yard and
give a play-by-play report. At the recreation center in town, he was a
team player all the way...shouting encouragement, patting his teammates'
backs, commending good plays. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1E20EYXdaWpKPMVa6l91VucbF-26E6I8IlN8LkAPNRHATOXT5grKdeWoZWISlQx8Xs0GqMGIspu8xIk0OlyyU0HhKS9_LNgbhugrsVts_NiMeGJDX6y3gRt6KbOUF-q3akmqZRryn-Md/s1600/looking+thru+keyhole.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1E20EYXdaWpKPMVa6l91VucbF-26E6I8IlN8LkAPNRHATOXT5grKdeWoZWISlQx8Xs0GqMGIspu8xIk0OlyyU0HhKS9_LNgbhugrsVts_NiMeGJDX6y3gRt6KbOUF-q3akmqZRryn-Md/s320/looking+thru+keyhole.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>So how <u>do</u>
parents make a decision about competitive sports for their children?
It would be easier to stick your head in a corner and not deal with it,
right? But you want to be sure ... you want to know if it's the right
thing for your child, your family, and your schedule. </i></span></b><br />
<br />
First, you pray about it while considering your child's level of
interest. You also weigh your ability to keep up with the schedule and
remember there must be time for school work, chores and family time.
You also discuss the importance of seeing something through and not
being a quitter.<br />
<br />
But what about the other kids, the coach you barely know and those parents who might not be the best influence on your child?
That's a tough question ... but in the long run, you have to remember
this simple statement -- there is no set rule written in black and white
about competitive sports teams and your children. So you weigh the
options and try your best not to make it a bigger deal than it is. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i>Our children are going to face difficulties in life and run into some tough things along the way. </i><i>They
are going to learn what it's like to excel and to fail, on or off the
field or court. At what age do they learn those things best?</i></b></span> <br />
<br />
Our children must learn what it means to get along with others outside
the family and be a good sport when things don't go their way. They
must learn to be fair and honest and encourage fellow team-mates (or
fellow employees) as they go through life. When and where they learn
these lessons, however, lies in your hands as the parents.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's entirely possible to learn the basics of these lessons in your own
home and shield your child from involvement in outside venues, but it
doesn't give them the experience. Outside the home, in less-than-ideal
settings, you are tested. You quickly learn that not everyone abides by
the same rules. Not everyone is honest or fair of kind, and while
that's a tough lesson, it's an important one.</div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #990000; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i>Whatever you decide to do, remember that a child's personality and natural gifts also play into the equation.</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JvqRqkna55Tc8MNiTMw5HMrLXP2S-lLiIClkMBOe1t6UnKRFbKrzUFiTC1I7E7G-uM3rbHYeF1Xdz6xFO_G4-iFpThDGy1ffCwV8joxrMHLI9bKggnAD7Fjd0ScPm6oB0PhK5z5INatI/s1600/Kevin+the+tinker.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JvqRqkna55Tc8MNiTMw5HMrLXP2S-lLiIClkMBOe1t6UnKRFbKrzUFiTC1I7E7G-uM3rbHYeF1Xdz6xFO_G4-iFpThDGy1ffCwV8joxrMHLI9bKggnAD7Fjd0ScPm6oB0PhK5z5INatI/s320/Kevin+the+tinker.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Our second son, Kevin, was perfectly at ease without a lot of
companionship. He was quite a loner, at times, with his books, toys and
games. Team interaction, organized sports and competition were not his
thing ... but he did love tinkering with things, taking them apart and
putting them back together. He was a real whiz with machines and taught
me how to check the oil in our riding lawn mower<i> when he was only five.</i><br />
<br />
He also liked drawing detailed diagrams of inventions he dreamed up.
Kevin enjoyed reading instruction manuals and game rules. He built
detailed scenes and contraptions with LEGO toys. No surprise, then, that Kevin is now a highly-trained computer technician who trains others and helps customers all across the U.S. and beyond. <br />
<br />
Jason, on the other hand, was just the opposite. <span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>He thrived on teamwork, group activities and liked to collect G.I. Joe stuff.
He liked wearing uniforms and belonging to a collective group that
worked like a fine-tuned machine. When America was attacked on September 11, 2001, Jason joined the U.S. Marine Corps to defend our country. After his tour of duty was up and he'd served some time in Iraq, Jason made it home safely, thank God. He continues to work stateside with our safety and freedom in mind.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #0b5394;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i>So study your children. Know what makes them tick. Pray about
everything ...</i></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">... including sports. Just as you allowed your children to try
their skills at walking and encouraged them when they had boo-boos, so
you can and should be their support system in science fairs, speech
contests and (perhaps), sports.</span></div>
<br />
Yes, there are other ways to expose children to others, including their
peers, coaches and other parents, and you can pray about that, too. If,
however, you join a sports team in the community, your child can be a
good example of sportsmanship. You, on the bleachers, can be a friend
to other parents and invite them to church.<br />
<br />
I think we made the mistake, all too often, of trying to expose our
children only to like-minded families and their children. In some ways,
this stunted their ability to adapt to people of different beliefs and
make tough decisions on their own when we weren't around.<br />
<br />
Maybe it is better to join a group of others on the ball field or in a
gymnasium while you are conspicuously present. This is not
overprotecting young children -- this is letting them know you are
supportive. From the sidelines, you can observe what goes on. You can
encourage your child with a nod, a smile or a wink. Later, on the way
home, you are available to listen or to answer questions and discuss how
things went. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOZ-vivLf0vAgXwGon4pOLD7JCXdimdZG-JVRmGRHPFlUoYbo0HGmEcjvO-J-3rhQ994siKbPd0sxrK2kuCaDC4G0wNOvX4RemNW_rUfZ6PFGHTQuh7NH4zQ-EJN7XDCKG9VNtONN0M9y/s1600/Melissa+10+years+old+recital.bmp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOZ-vivLf0vAgXwGon4pOLD7JCXdimdZG-JVRmGRHPFlUoYbo0HGmEcjvO-J-3rhQ994siKbPd0sxrK2kuCaDC4G0wNOvX4RemNW_rUfZ6PFGHTQuh7NH4zQ-EJN7XDCKG9VNtONN0M9y/s320/Melissa+10+years+old+recital.bmp" height="233" width="320" /></a>While our daughter Melissa was not into sports or tinkering with mechanical things, she was creative and very interested in art and music. At eight years old, she took her first piano lessons and prepared her first recital. Music was a way she could enjoy expressing her heart, and she wanted to continue, so we did. After high school, she earned her B.A. in music.<br />
<br />
At the encouragement of her professors, she went on to get her Master of Music degree -- and that's where she and her husband-to-be met one another. Her studies have prepared her well to teach an occasional college music course at the community college where they live, and she continues to give private piano lessons in their home. God does all things well!<br />
<br />
Your story and your children are different than ours, but we have some things in common -- we can't protect our children from every difficult circumstance out there. We can't shine our light
for Christ where it isn't dark. We can't always direct our children in every detail. Some day, our children will eventually "go on stage" in
life to use their gifts and talents and training. That's when we step back to watch from the curtains. Close, but not hovering ...
always praying, encouraging with a smile, trusting the Lord. <span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><b> </b></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><b>Always thanking God for making them who they are with their own particular interests and gifts. </b></i></span><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i>That's one important thing our children need from us.</i></b></span>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-40426981178675607962014-03-13T08:41:00.000-07:002014-03-13T12:12:25.902-07:00What a lovely day!<h3>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b>God is on His throne, the sun is shining, daffodils are blooming and the promise of spring has arrived.</b></i></span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b> </b></i> </span></span></h3>
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It's one of those day you just want to get outdoors and do something -- like dig in the flower beds or take a walk or just let the sun shine on the top of your head and warm you all the way down to your toes. After a bone-chilling winter, it's a great season to celebrate the goodness of God and watch the earth awaken from her winter rest.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time (so many years ago), I would gather the kiddos and head outdoors for a bit of spring-time adventure. Sometimes we poked new flower seeds in the ground. Other times we hiked around the loop (Woods Point Drive in Catlettsburg, KY) or rode our bikes down the hill out front. It was more like a slope, but to our little ones, it probably seemed like a mountain.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b>If we aren't careful, our children can easily become jaded by being entertained...</b></i></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b> </b></i></span></h3>
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</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg303k5lTmbQI91SYfmCCAQoezx5H9xTWdFRxAPLRPgKpm5kM_pzbVc0-9HBSOt5dB-OyU_SK4xY0BhLctScrsO9IFvBPRuPr6wJZ8sSjseAc07v8aHzwO6OlhJUThmILYXKFRBNY0EhyphenhyphenuP/s1600/Girl+-+with+hula+hoop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg303k5lTmbQI91SYfmCCAQoezx5H9xTWdFRxAPLRPgKpm5kM_pzbVc0-9HBSOt5dB-OyU_SK4xY0BhLctScrsO9IFvBPRuPr6wJZ8sSjseAc07v8aHzwO6OlhJUThmILYXKFRBNY0EhyphenhyphenuP/s1600/Girl+-+with+hula+hoop.jpg" /></a></h3>
... and when that happens, we parents will have a harder time finding something bigger, better or with more "bling" to catch their eye and keep their interest. We cheat our children if we don't unplug them from TVs, DVDs and iPads long enough to do that. There is so much to see and do that isn't connected to an outlet or run by batteries -- and our children need to be comfortable with that.<br />
<br />
As the weather warms, why not pitch a tent and camp out in the back yard? This is not a slumber party for friends or cousins, this is time for you as a family to reconnect and have fun. Take turns finding constellations and try to name them. Point out the brightest stars. Imagine walking on the moon. Do a little scheming about your next family vacation. Tell silly jokes. Catch fireflies and roast wieners over a fire pit. <br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b> </b></i></span><br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b>Listen to night sounds. But most of all, listen to your children.</b></i></span></h3>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b> </b></i></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"></span></h3>
There's just something about being under a big sky at night that makes it a safe place to open up. If your children hint at their hopes and dreams ... and if those dreams don't line up with your dreams for them ... just listen for now. They may also share some fears and concerns, and not expect an answer, but the need to know you are there for them and care. Keep it low key - don't overdo the comforting part and have all the answers. Just listen. It takes time away from routines and constant busy-ness to share heart-to-heart, and any time that happens, it's a time to treasure.<br />
<br />
Other together times may involve day trips to fun museums and/or special events. Check with your chamber of commerce to find out about events like musical or theater productions nearby. Butterfly museums, aviaries and birdwatching all can attract children who are "unplugged." When you focus on something outside your child's normal activities and interests, you give them a bigger view of the world.<br />
<br />
Another idea: make something together - like one of the fancy bird baths pictured below! Not only will you have a lot of fun, you can enjoy watching the birds flock to it this summer. Turn an old lamp stand into a cool bird bath by adding a ceiling light fixture or some type of large bowl you might not use anymore. Sharing time is even better when you have something tangible to show for it. Be sure to let your child share ideas for the project, too. It doesn't have to turn out *perfect,* it just has to be a memorable time spent with a precious little person you happen to love! <br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b> <span style="color: #6aa84f;">What a lovely day! God is still on His throne and there's a big world out there waiting for you and your children to discover. Together. </span></b></i></span></h3>
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<i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://chiccottagejunk.blogspot.com/">Photo credit: Pinterest</a></span></i></h3>
Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-4013527392036326172014-03-12T20:23:00.001-07:002015-09-14T18:59:41.372-07:00When it's tough being tough ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPJ_eQANkqlxXBjrYN2Yj9oeR-TKhVWuyzTKew9PA15mxGthfo0nfvatBeu67Ujio4ofeV2QCyK3uWxuDQAtlERb0W2uMQMR1KvckcWZGbID9VlwVg2kbBCnGbEqAPBfG4hyphenhyphenEi8kTI_B_/s1600/whiny,+fussy+boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPJ_eQANkqlxXBjrYN2Yj9oeR-TKhVWuyzTKew9PA15mxGthfo0nfvatBeu67Ujio4ofeV2QCyK3uWxuDQAtlERb0W2uMQMR1KvckcWZGbID9VlwVg2kbBCnGbEqAPBfG4hyphenhyphenEi8kTI_B_/s1600/whiny,+fussy+boy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Sometimes parenting is tougher than others -- especially when you know what your child is asking for isn't in his or her best interest. That's when those little lips pucker into a pout and their eyes cloud over in disappointment.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><b><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">That's when it's tough being tough - but you've gotta hang in there and do the right thing. </span></i></b></span><br />
<br />
Giving in to pouting doesn't help anyone. Not them - because they need to know that "no" means no - and it's final. There's no bickering or dickering to get the verdict flipped. It doesn't help you to buckle and give in, either. If you do, you'll be upset because you backed down on something you considered important enough to refuse in the first place. We don't do our children any favors when they win in those situations. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><b>Did you know children really do want boundaries? </b></i></span><br />
<br />
There is safety in boundaries, as demonstrated years ago by a simple school yard fence. Before the fence was erected, the students tended to huddle near the center of the playground during their recess period. They weren't sure where their boundaries were, so they stayed in the center of the yard and didn't branch out to the other areas they could have used. Then the school erected a fence, and the children began to spread out and enjoy the entire field. There was security in boundaries.<br />
<br />
In the same way, our children should be able to approach us and know that we are their safe spot - someone they can respect and follow - someone who will maintain boundaries for them and help them feel secure when their world seems a little scary. To constantly flip flop or move the boundaries is confusing for you and for your child ... a bit like moving furniture around every other day and expecting them not to trip or stub their toe.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i>So, once parents agree on basic family rules, they need to hold the line.</i> </b></span><br />
<br />
That's why it's important for both parents to discuss some basic rules and guidelines. Children need someone bigger and stronger and smarter and tougher to bump into now and then. Someone that knows the rules and helps the child keep them. Someone that has been there before them to mark the way and help them succeed. Someone who's big enough and smart enough to handle their fears, their questions, their mistakes and their failures... and still love them unconditionally. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i>While giving in may seem easier at times, it actually makes your life a whole lot tougher.</i></b></span><br />
<br />
Even a toddler knows when he wins the battle and will store that information away for the next battle. If you give in once, there's a chance you will again, right? So don't play that game with your children. Stand firm and hold the line - always with love and a sincere concern for your child's best interest in the long run. It's not easy to be the tough guy, but somebody's gotta do it, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbjqzx3MNYzlFPlUU0oP6CqBBkbl3b0Lmx6MdJy2stjA-krl2dOjY4C2r05RWMRfPmM33z-iOj0nRrRauSIrUINbqDYj6qigzpxiSaU46D7tpRo45aiu6lVabcYuch5ivRo9jAuUlZ6vNk/s1600/US+Marine+parade+deck+reduced.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbjqzx3MNYzlFPlUU0oP6CqBBkbl3b0Lmx6MdJy2stjA-krl2dOjY4C2r05RWMRfPmM33z-iOj0nRrRauSIrUINbqDYj6qigzpxiSaU46D7tpRo45aiu6lVabcYuch5ivRo9jAuUlZ6vNk/s1600/US+Marine+parade+deck+reduced.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #073763;"> <i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Case in point: </span> We learned from a well-known teen counselor that many teens run away from home to join the U.S. Marine Corps. Why, of all things - would they run away from those authority figures they despise to join the toughest corps in the military? <span style="color: #cc0000;"> <span style="color: #073763;">Because rebellious kids need to know there is someone out there that is tougher than they are - someone who will set boundaries and stand like a stone wall they can't budge. Those</span></span> same rebels can actually make good Marines, because they've finally met someone (a drill instructor) who makes them follow rules and respect authority. Worth taking note of, parents.</i> <i>Lovingly be that boundary and that stone wall for your children.</i></span>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-57187918150676278242013-10-29T19:46:00.003-07:002013-10-30T14:16:32.535-07:00Four grandsons in a row ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7gE3iUvLrFIEUnQd-_QQBL_CHsjXxT3ioNntyOsYs22EX3wwWzDArwCyDEkg9ztKZGg0hmexNPNeBicZyO2vyDmyP7QHCCLhZpMWM0c3JYjjw0fiBv_BRQgGU_I4eXKDoRoE5OXuWu5A/s1600/Grandsons+-+four+in+a+row+window+walll+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7gE3iUvLrFIEUnQd-_QQBL_CHsjXxT3ioNntyOsYs22EX3wwWzDArwCyDEkg9ztKZGg0hmexNPNeBicZyO2vyDmyP7QHCCLhZpMWM0c3JYjjw0fiBv_BRQgGU_I4eXKDoRoE5OXuWu5A/s640/Grandsons+-+four+in+a+row+window+walll+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
Early this morning, about 1:15, our fourth grandson made his appearance! What a blessing to hear our daughter's voice and to know they are both doing fine. Their sweet family of four is rejoicing tonight in God's goodness, and so are we. <br />
<br />
When she called, I could hear their four-year-old Ethan chattering in the background about balloons. (Turns out he and his Daddy had gone to pick up something special for little Caleb). After months of hearing about their baby, talking and singing to him and feeling his little brother kick the hand he placed on Mommy's tummy, it all became real when Ethan set eyes on his little brother for the first time. I'd love to have been there for that!<br />
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We are so blessed to have four grandsons. The first two were born six months apart and the second two were born just three months apart. It was just a few weeks ago that grandson #3 made his appearance in Virgina. Jason Cody (the big-brother) was a few days shy of his fourth birthday when he met John-Phillip for the first time.<br />
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Papa and I flew north for the baby's one-month birthday party and enjoyed family time with our son, his wife, and the two boys. Oh my, --the precious snuggle time we had that weekend! What a joy to hear the mewing sound of a sleeping baby with a full tummy! We also got tickled watching Jason Cody touch his baby brother's cheek and declare, "I like his little beeper nose."<br />
In the photo here, he's stacking plush bunny peeps on John-Phillip's head. <br />
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Hopefully, we will get to make another trip in the near future -- this time driving south to meet our newest little grandson, Caleb. I'm sure we'll get in some precious snuggles there too, along with watching Ethan interact with his brand-new buddy and playmate.<br />
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He and cousin Jason Cody have something else in common now and both are fine "big brothers." As I stated above, having four grandsons makes us rich indeed, and this Nana is feeling very blessed tonight!<br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><b>Four grandsons in a row: </b></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><b>Ethan (4)</b></i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><b>Jason Cody (4)</b></i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><b>John-Phillip (3 mos.)</b></i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><b> and Caleb</b></i> <i><b>(1 day)</b></i></span></span></div>
Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-7331397955201259462013-10-29T07:48:00.001-07:002013-10-30T07:09:57.493-07:00If our children responded in kind ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Helping is important to little ones ...</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When our children slip up, it's easy to pounce on the opportunity to teach some valuable life lesson we feel they should learn.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Maybe they dropped a jelly jar and it shattered and splattered sweet goo everywhere ... or they lost a library book that is now overdue ... or they broke a favorite bowl you've had since you were just a kid. Been there, done that - and I wish I could take back some of my life lesson "lectures." How humbling it would be if our children responded in kind every time we parents messed up!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I remember being busy in the kitchen with one of those menus when everything hits you at once -- the gravy must be stirred up while the potatoes are mashed and the rolls need to be out of the oven right *now.* Did I mention the baby was squalling to nurse and the phone was ringing? </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That's when our three year old looked up and noted aloud ... </span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Mommy, you forgot to close the cabinet doors back." </span></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ouch. There they were - several doors yawning wide open while I tried to finish supper. And, most likely thinking I would bang my head or leave all the doors open from that point on, our little dumpling reminded me to close them. Trust me, having a child who is more organized than you are is a humbling experience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So how do we speak to our children when they break a favorite dish or fail to finish a job or react wrongly to a situation? Do we harp and preach at them? Do we give a ten-minute lecture instead of a two-second reminder to remedy the wrong? If our children responded in kind every time<i> we </i>messed up, we'd certainly have to eat a lot of humble pie. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thankfully, there is an established order in the home -- the parents are teachers, guardians and examples to their little ones. So it behooves us to deal with their "slip-ups" patiently, just as we want others to deal with ours. This isn't to say we should avoid pointing out those little errors that could become bigger errors and later serious problems. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The key is to love and lead our children with compassion and kindness. Their hearts are tender and still pliable, so we should handle them with care. To do otherwise may crush any desire they have to offer their help or share their own ideas. Parenting is a mind-boggling experience and challenge. It's also a privilege and blessing... slip-ups included. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #45818e;"><b>I'm thankful the Lord is there to guide and encourage us along the way.</b></span></i></span>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-75751102838494853432012-11-28T14:39:00.002-08:002012-11-28T14:58:29.686-08:00Whispered Awake<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTh3UzWAP3BhN9EkrpDHdGmHuwZEiYODgGUWibBwRcw1BJ5AeZyBsTPYzxpPz0lbRMPafFgT2w8AgyAkMNF-EKDc2YoQhtDcrfzycxG_CAVv4_WLkEf0ulelHP8tqIMQzAAZa2wpxFHTDb/s1600/Birthday+cupcake.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTh3UzWAP3BhN9EkrpDHdGmHuwZEiYODgGUWibBwRcw1BJ5AeZyBsTPYzxpPz0lbRMPafFgT2w8AgyAkMNF-EKDc2YoQhtDcrfzycxG_CAVv4_WLkEf0ulelHP8tqIMQzAAZa2wpxFHTDb/s200/Birthday+cupcake.jpg" width="133" /></a>It was when I woke up today -- the sunlight just beginning to filter into the bedroom -- that I stretched and said aloud, "It's my 58th birthday ..." Nobody was here to answer me, but I thought it was a perfectly good way to start the day ... so I said it.<br />
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This morning, no one had officially acknowledged or recognized my birthday yet, but I felt a sense of being somehow acknowledged and celebrated. As if the Lord gently whispered me awake with his own greeting of "<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Happy Birthday, Nan</span></b>.</i></span>"<br />
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It was then the truth occurred to me -- that my Heavenly Father, more than anyone else, was aware of the day, too. He knew the day, the hour and the very minute I had been born on November 28, 1954. He knew the doctor's name and the nurse that attended my birth. He also knew Gene Snyder, my parent's neighbor, would rush Mom to the hospital in the backseat of his deputy car -- lights flashing and siren blaring. <br />
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Daddy was working the night shift across town and knew he'd not make it in time, so he and Gene worked it out, promising Mom he'd meet her at the hospital. It must have been a close call for him, because he worked until 7 a.m. and made it in time for my birth a few moments after 7:30! Imagine his reaction when the doctor (or nurse) came out to talk with him after I'd arrived. Four times Daddy had heard the words, "<i><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">It's a girl</span></b></i>." And now, on this fifth time around - Dad got another girl. <br />
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Still, he loved and accepted me, and Mom said it was Dad who gave me my middle name, Lorraine, because he thought it was pretty. Later, he referred to me as his little "Princess." I knew, as I grew up, that I was loved. That is such a secure feeling for a child, and my parents offered their love and acceptance freely. How blessed I was to be their child! <br />
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This morning the parallel was amazing. Yes, my earthly Dad loved and accepted me, but my Heavenly Father loved me even more! He knew every little detail about me as a developing embryo, as a newborn and all through the years since. He created and fashioned me beneath my mother's heart. He gave me a personality and a look that is unique to me alone. Even if I had an identical twin, I would still be uniquely, individually the "me" He created me to be! He also gave me abilities to develop and use for His glory.<br />
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Not only did my Heavenly Father attend my birth, He knew the moment of my conception and knew the exact second on the clock they wheeled my mother to the delivery room. He oversaw the entire birth process and kept me in His loving care step by step. I was never ever, even for a moment, out of His sight. <br />
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On that cold November morning in 1954, I exited the comforting warmth of Mom's womb and entered the sterile environment of a cold delivery room. Seconds later, I was turned over the doctor's arm and promptly spanked on the bottom. Not because I had done anything wrong, but because that's what doctors did back then to make sure you took your first deep breath. It must have worked, because I'm here!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">I can honestly say that in 58 years of living, I've never experienced what I did this morning.</span> </i></b></span><br />
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Perhaps because I was the only one at home and it was quiet. Perhaps because I was lying there thinking about the day and its significance. Mostly, I think, because I was rejoicing in the Lord's goodness. In my heart, He rekindled the peaceful assurance of knowing Him as my Father and what He promises in His word ...<br />
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"You are my child, and I will never leave you or forsake you. No matter how old you get, or how many wrinkles and age spots you have, I will always love you. No matter how many fragile bones or crippled joints you might experience, you are mine, and I love you. No matter how forgetful you might become, I will never forget you.<br />
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Because I love you, I have given you the one gift that can never be compared with any other gift you'll receive in your lifetime. I gave my only Son for you, Nan, and I opened your heart up to believe you needed a Savior. You see, I've had my eye on you for all eternity, and you will never be abandoned. That's how much I love you. On your birthday and every other day."<br />
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Wow, what a way to start a birthday -- or any day! Just me and my Lord. As I got up and padded to the kitchen to fix a hot drink, I glanced at the clock and stopped in my tracks. It showed the very time I had been born 58 years ago today.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSrp5_PwQHLg8KXnJHFzygpzub0pC4pgoPiPuQ4nKwrUlTTBVMLOLdCeqn7DUsrg7AHP3_QN3pdawCKej6lLXQCK6-PBikfsCwd4DTi1KW5vLS8hWUQJ39FVufCY10kqt6nKhlm2rwns7/s1600/Mom+with+baby+Nan+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSrp5_PwQHLg8KXnJHFzygpzub0pC4pgoPiPuQ4nKwrUlTTBVMLOLdCeqn7DUsrg7AHP3_QN3pdawCKej6lLXQCK6-PBikfsCwd4DTi1KW5vLS8hWUQJ39FVufCY10kqt6nKhlm2rwns7/s320/Mom+with+baby+Nan+001.jpg" width="208" /></a> <span style="color: #0b5394;"><i><b>Mom holding her fifth daughter! </b></i></span>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-79229401877083469442012-10-27T23:04:00.006-07:002016-10-31T20:38:43.901-07:00Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-59734510323588638512012-10-27T23:04:00.001-07:002016-10-31T20:54:34.960-07:00A Season of Thanks <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>It's my favorite time of year ...</i></span></span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"> the last few weeks before Thanksgiving!</span></i></span></h3>
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When I was a little girl - perhaps 5 or 6 years old - thoughts of Thanksgiving also included thoughts of my birthday. No matter how close it came to the holiday, it seemed the hustle and bustle, the autumn decorations and the extra baking somehow were all meant to extend my birthday into a week-long celebration! </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Momma was a wonderful pie maker, and she would prepare pumpkin, apple and/or pecan pies for the Thanksgiving holiday. As a young child, I would climb up on the old kitchen stool to watch her. And if I was very, very good, she would even let me help a bit. </span>The plop of smooth pumpkin mix into the pie pan was one of my favorite moments! I'd watched her add all the ingredients -- a can of Pet milk, eggs, spices and sugar. After mixing it well, Momma would use a spatula to smooth the pie filling just so, then into the hot oven her pies would go, and within 30 minutes, their spicy smells wafted throughout the entire house. <br />
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It was after baking a bit and the pie fillings "settled" that our mother added a pretty decoration to each pie. While she rolled out the leftover dough, I got to choose cookie cutters and cut dough to decorate the center of each pie. There were five Thanksgiving designs to choose from -- pumpkin, leaf, acorn, turkey and pilgrim. After they were place on top of the pie, it was slipped back into the oven to finish baking. Half the fun of going outside was coming back in again to sniff the wonderful aroma. <br />
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Oh, my -- such sweet memories! </span></i><br />
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Once those beautiful pies were done, Momma would grab a potholder and slide them out of the oven <i>oh-so-carefully</i> to cool on a side counter. Then it was *my* turn to bake. With our wooden rolling pin, I'd smash down and roll out bits of leftover dough scraps for a special treat -- yummy cinnamon and sugar strips! Melted butter went on them first, then a mixture of cinnamon and sugar was sprinkled on top. After a brief time in the oven, they became a crispy, savory treat that were shared with my siblings. Yum!<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><i>I carried on those same Thanksgiving traditions with our children and now do the same with our grandchildren ...</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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Mom's recipe for homemade pie crust is still my crust of choice. It was also a tradition to let our children (and now our grandchildren) help choose a cookie-cutter shaped like a pilgrim, pumpkin, turkey, leaf or acorn to adorn the pie. And *if* there are any scraps of dough left over, they can help me make cinnamon strips to munch on while the pies are baking.<br />
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I look back on so many precious memories and realize that our Mom was an artist at heart, whether sewing clothing for her daughters or planning a flower garden, turning a house into a home or baking holiday pies -- she liked to make each work of love so that it was unique. Momma was an artist in every sense of the word.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Take time in the weeks ahead to plan your holiday, express your love verbally, make lots of happy memories and set a festive table for your meal together. Involve your grandchildren -- they can cut or color </span>paper leaves to hang, help design place cards for the table and/or make a paper chain of autumn-colored
paper to drape from the ceiling. When we let them get involved with preparations, they feel part of the family tradition, and that's a good thing.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #cc0000;">Holidays are a wonderful time to recall happy memories and make new ones. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">This year, why not include a special display about your family heritage? Display old letters and photos or favorite books of "the good ol' days." Thanksgiving is a great time to refresh everyone's memories about those family members who have already passed on. Share stories - funny and serious - that let your children and grands get to know their great and great-great grandparents and the impact they had on family memories and traditions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">It doesn't take fine china and silver or an expensive meal to make your dinner guests feel special on Thanksgiving Day. What matters is presenting the meal with your sincere welcome and a thankful heart. When that happens, your hospitality and your meal will both be remembered with appreciation.</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Happy Autumn, everyone, and a blessed Thanksgiving ... </span></i>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-83338960017862726662012-07-01T20:15:00.001-07:002012-07-02T19:47:26.678-07:00When freedom rings ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpZt49KlKh3QukTNE0-lRU2I_5a0utwXMyEUnQmVExjMwfCgNFmHUzCgHst59o8iX9val4RdwpGZEfG8_3TBBVSdYVCrX6LkkDiNWfbJRlFVcI4Te-I60ZwXY_O9-hECr9Y5TdwxW97RN/s1600/Kids+with+4th+of+July+cake3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpZt49KlKh3QukTNE0-lRU2I_5a0utwXMyEUnQmVExjMwfCgNFmHUzCgHst59o8iX9val4RdwpGZEfG8_3TBBVSdYVCrX6LkkDiNWfbJRlFVcI4Te-I60ZwXY_O9-hECr9Y5TdwxW97RN/s320/Kids+with+4th+of+July+cake3.jpg" width="320" /></a>We've been "empty-nesters" for eight and a half years, now. Gone are the days when I dashed after toddlers, changed diapers, settled arguments, wiped noses and bandaged boo-boos.<br />
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Sometimes it's a little too quiet around here, especially when I start reminiscing about the "good ole days." Though we pray for our children daily and miss them dearly, there is a certain <i style="color: #cc0000;">freedom in knowing they are grown and able to care for themselves.</i><br />
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Our children, at ages 26, 30 and 32, no longer need an ever-watchful eye to keep them out of danger. They don't have to be reminded to brush their teeth, make their beds and eat their veggies. Neither do we hold their hands to cross the street or tuck them in with a prayer at night. <br />
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Do I miss those days? <i>Oh, yeah!</i> My mommy heart remembers those sweet moments, and that's when I start longing to hear from our kiddos. Like couldn't they call tonight? Or better yet, right now? But they aren't children anymore; they are adults living away from home, all able to do their own chores, choose their own meals and set their own schedules. Because we taught them those things when they were young, they don't need us to hover over them at this point. <br />
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Yes, the "letting go" and <i style="color: #cc0000;">giving our children freedom is difficult</i>. At the same time, I'm amazed that some parents <i>insist</i> that their grown children call home daily. We haven't done that for several reasons: First, if they aren't old enough to manage on their own without our advice, it's a little late now, isn't it? Second, if they feel the obligation to call, there can be little joy in such a debt. Last, but not least, we don't want them to put us before their own spouses and families if they want a healthy, happy home life. <br />
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The Bible says children are to "leave and cleave" to their spouses when they set up housekeeping. This is God's plan for healthy marriages and good relationships between spouses and their parents and in-laws. I<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="color: black;">t's </span></span>a good thing when families can stay in touch, enjoy meals together and make sure their children spend time with the grandparents. But to demand it or make comments that put pressure on them only causes tension and rifts in relationships.<br />
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After raising our own three children over a period of 23 years and homeschooling them for 18 of those years, Phillip and I have a lot invested in them -- time, energy, money, but most of all, love. It's not my desire to make them feel they "owe" us now for our investment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7d0BgpTft12ojWrlKcCqBrmWn4xd0fJfoM48T0ubgNwRqQsfS2YN8OURBc4Zfi2eGvfDTv5bgl4VO6RtHkS9cxxS4LAzkkh93jGyMd__WHipcI7vwvmMiw2mhCMI0b3xvCI4N4477pKkF/s1600/Making+Fourth+of+July+flags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7d0BgpTft12ojWrlKcCqBrmWn4xd0fJfoM48T0ubgNwRqQsfS2YN8OURBc4Zfi2eGvfDTv5bgl4VO6RtHkS9cxxS4LAzkkh93jGyMd__WHipcI7vwvmMiw2mhCMI0b3xvCI4N4477pKkF/s320/Making+Fourth+of+July+flags.jpg" width="320" /></a>But I am still a Mom, and my heart aches to hear their voices. I also like hearing my sweet grandchildren breathe into the phone or giggle in the background. And when they say, "Hi, Nana," my heart does a double flip flop. If I could, I'd reach through the phone line, cover the distance and give them a big Nana hug!<br />
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Sometimes I wish they would call more often, but in all fairness, I have to look back to my own young adult life and how busy I was as a newlywed or a young mother. There seemed little or no time to stop and call home, and when I did, my three kiddos were destined to spill something, load a diaper or cause and crash and then whisper "<i>Don't tell Mom!</i>"<br />
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In looking back on those years, I can be more understanding as a parent. My own parents must have longed to hear from me more often, but they were <i style="color: #cc0000;">giving me freedom to develop </i>as a young adult and didn't insist on scheduled "updates." When our children call, we want to enjoy the conversation, affirm them in their efforts and be available if they need to ask something. We want them to see calling home as a blessing, not an obligation. <br />
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Yes, there are times when a week goes by that we don't hear a peep from any of them. It's tempting to pick up the phone, but the Lord fills my heart with His peace and reminds me -- "You taught them to fly and they are flying!" <br />
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<i style="color: #cc0000;">Yes, they are, and there is freedom in that</i>. Giving our children wings is a blessing all around. It is part of God's plan for healthy, happy families to establish their own homes, their own routines and their own traditions. As parents, we need to <i style="color: #cc0000;">give them their freedom and applaud their efforts along the way.</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Have a wonderful </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>and blessed July 4th --<span style="color: #cc0000;"></span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">"Independence Day."</span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-46334273109107020862012-05-12T13:52:00.001-07:002012-07-01T18:41:54.020-07:00Delivering sweet babies and memories ...<br />
How well I remember the three times in my life I heard the words, "Your pregnancy test is positive." What a joy and blessing to know we were going to be parents!<br />
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Rewind to my teen years ... I had no idea a battle with endometriosis was being waged inside me. It seems to have begun shortly after I turned 13 and continued attacking my female organs for 10 years. That's when, four years into our marriage, I was not able to get pregnant and finally made an appointment with a new gynecologist in Tuscumbia, Alabama. <br />
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He immediately suspected endometriosis and talked with me quite awhile in his office. Seems his wife had suffered with the same problem and despaired of ever having children. Her symptoms sounded just like mine, along with dozens of other women he treated for endometriosis. Thankfully, after they adopted two children, his wife got pregnant and later delivered a healthy baby. So, if I was not pregnant within six to nine months, he recommended surgery to further diagnose and treat the problem.<br />
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"You're still young," he told us. "Give yourself time, and you'll probably have a houseful of children." Thank the Lord for good doctors and successful surgeries -- we were able to conceive and bear three precious children, each a gift from God.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Melissa, born May 24, 1980</i></b></span></div>
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Dearest daughter, you were our first! Your Daddy and I had taken Lamaze classes and were prepared for a long labor, but you surprised us.</div>
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I had a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions before the "real" ones settled in, but it was about midnight on May 23rd that we knew you were on your way. It was 2:00 a.m. on the 24th that I called the doctor.</div>
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Funny thing, I remember apologizing for waking him up. He said "No problem, that's my job, and I'd rather wake up to deliver a baby than anything else I know." He also encouraged us not to be in a big rush as this was our first baby. He then said to wait awhile 'til my labor contractions were 2 minutes apart and then "just mosey on over to the hospital."</div>
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We drove to the hospital about 2:45, but sat in the parking lot another 45 minutes or so. I didn't want to spend any more time than necessary waiting around. So, I walked into the hospital with Phillip and we rode the elevator up to labor and delivery.<br />
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The nurse who greeted us asked, "You are in labor and you *walked* in? " I also remember she hustled me into a gown and bed so she could check me. Moments later, she told Phillip if the doctor didn't hurry, she might have to deliver you with your Daddy's help! After another hour or so, they wheeled me across to the delivery room.<br />
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At 5 a.m. on May 24th, they put you on my tummy and let me see you up close for the very first time. What a wonderful experience it was to touch you and watch you settled against me. I remember the way you looked into my eyes and stared at me like you knew me.. We'd been told a baby can hear its mother's voice during the seventh, eighth and ninth months of development -- and your quiet study of my face as I talked was proof. You knew your Mommy's voice! </div>
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What a joy to hold you in our arms and thank the Lord for you, sweetie. Your Daddy had tears in his eyes when he prayed over us that morning. He loved holding you gently in his strong arms and talking to you. Though you looked very tiny to us, you weighed a healthy seven pounds and ten ounces. What a beautiful baby you were, and how happy we were to be your parents!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Jason, born June 1, 1982</b></i></span></div>
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Jason, we felt just as excited (but also a little nervous) the second time around. You were very active inutero and seemed to be<i> in a big hurry</i> to get here. ;-) </div>
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From the time I felt we needed to head to the hospital until I first held you in my arms, my contractions were almost overwhelming. I'm thankful for the training we had in Lamaze, because it kept me focused on the process and helped me to relax a bit. On the way to the hospital, however, I did remind your Daddy to slow down for the bumpy railroad tracks!</div>
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I didn't walk in this time - - we pulled up to the ER entrance as someone grabbed a wheel chair. An orderly rushed me upstairs to Labor and Delivery while your Daddy parked the car. He signed me in, was handed a hospital gown and mask and located me in the labor room. I needed him, because he was my labor coach and side-kick for our second delivery.</div>
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What a nice surprise it was to see the same nurse that cared for me when your sissy was born. I think Nurse Mize was as excited to see us as we were to see her! After Dr. Bohannon arrived and examined me, he said I was indeed "moving right along." That was about 5:30. When they wheeled me across to deliver, I glanced at the clock. It was 6:28 when we got there and at 6:32 -- just four minutes later, you were wailing loudly and flailing those long arms and legs of yours! </div>
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Dr. Bohannon carried you to the nursery to weigh you himself and came back grinning. "An even 88!" Then he winked and said, "Eight pounds, eight ounces." I remember him holding my hand and telling me how proud he was of me for doing well in delivery. <i>Yikes, I didn't do much of anything but hang on for the ride!</i> Dr. Bohannon said it was like you were on a greased slide and declared, "There was no stopping him!" </div>
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It was a joy to keep you in our room at the birthing center. Mrs. Polly, head of the nursery, grinned and reported, "That
boy has a set of good, strong lungs - every time he wakes up, he wakes
all the other babies up, too." Your Daddy spent that night with me, then we headed home the very next day. I was anxious to get back home to your 2-year old sister, Melissa.<br />
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The photo above shows me holding you about an hour or so after you were born. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Kevin, born January 10, 1986</i></b></span></div>
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Kevin, we were so very excited about our pregnancy and were anxious to introduce you to your big brother and sister. I loved being pregnant again, but I found that almost four years between my second and third pregnancies meant I was a little older and needed to rest more often. </div>
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We also had a feeling you would zoom into our lives faster than the first two babies. My gynecologists, Drs. Gilbert and Vallejos, told us that with my first two deliveries being quite fast, I was not to hesitate getting to the hospital when contractions set in. "Unless," Dr. Gilbert warned with a wink, "you want to deliver this one in the car." </div>
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We lived in northeastern corner of Kentucky at the time, and our doctors were across the state line in West Virginia, 45 minutes away. When I woke at 2:00 a.m. on January 10 with hard cramping, we felt sure I would deliver that day. As things progressed, a babysitter came at 5:00 so we could head to the hospital.</div>
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Instead of feeling I was making progress, I felt a lot of pain in the right side of my back and was very nauseated. Dr. Vallejos, who was on call for the team, checked me over, then everything slowed down. So we waited. Later, when my contractions got stronger, something just didn't feel right. I started crying and told your Daddy I wanted to go home. In other words, I was ready to quit! Of course that wasn't an option, so I dug in and started pushing anyhow.</div>
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Suddenly Dr. Vallejos called out, "STOP PUSHING." I told him I couldn't stop, but he said it again and added quietly, <i>"We have a problem."</i> Your Daddy saw you slip into the doctor's hands, but he also knew you were in trouble. There was a blue tint to your skin and the umbilical cord was tightly coiled around your little neck. The doctor was working to get the cord clipped so you could breathe. What a blessing when, moments later, I heard a faint little cry. </div>
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Once I'd gotten a glimpse of you, all I wanted to do was hold you close to my heart. It was difficult to see you being worked over to make sure you were breathing properly. I couldn't help crying when they whisked you away to a room across the hall to run some tests and check you more closely. This was not like my first two deliveries -- I hadn't even gotten to touch you or cuddle you on my chest -- and they took you away!</div>
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About 30 minutes later, a nurse brought you back in and said all the tests showed you were out of danger and everything was going to be fine. What a relief! For the next few hours, your Daddy and I settled into a lovely visit with you and introduced ourselves properly. You weighed 8 lbs., 6 ounces and were a mighty good-looking little fellow! <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">I love my three kiddos, and on this Mother's Day, I celebrate each one of them.</span></b></i></span> <b><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #0b5394;">What a privilege it is to be your Mom!</i></span></b></div>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-60431963091548674782012-04-19T22:03:00.000-07:002012-04-20T10:22:14.346-07:00Cheering our children on ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3pHEU7qNz3BKKhVjZJHCYgGBMRz7zDppfembNvkerTG47HH_BXMyOXfyTd4bWOGa7YIWVixXbsDnLx8Hj2AKfXoy01xthgX8ZVzJcOtU7XJRKi4KPxpnver8g5UVyXw_RIPt1Sest_Fe/s1600/Jason+in+ball+uniform.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3pHEU7qNz3BKKhVjZJHCYgGBMRz7zDppfembNvkerTG47HH_BXMyOXfyTd4bWOGa7YIWVixXbsDnLx8Hj2AKfXoy01xthgX8ZVzJcOtU7XJRKi4KPxpnver8g5UVyXw_RIPt1Sest_Fe/s320/Jason+in+ball+uniform.jpg" width="234" /></a>Ah, it's the time of year when the kids suit up and the parents sit on the sidelines or bleachers. <i><span style="color: #990000;">Play ball!!!</span> </i> There's a lot of excitement, commitment and even sacrifices involved when you let your children pursue their dreams.<br />
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And there are those niggling questions in the back of our minds, too. <i style="color: #0b5394;">Are organized sports for children a necessary evil? Is competition healthy, or does it produce more problems than it's worth? Is my child ready for this?</i><br />
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Our son Jason was enthralled with all-things-sports at a very early age. He heard people talk about the Cincinnati Reds (when we lived near Ohio,) and got to attend a couple games with his Dad and other young boys at church. From the roar of the crowd to the hot dogs and popcorn, it was father-son bonding at its best.<br />
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Jason also saved his hard-earned allowance to collect and trade baseball cards. He listened to games on the radio and knew the players by names and positions they played. He could tell you how many hits or strikeouts they had in a game -- and who ended up being MVP. I couldn't complain too much, because it was Jason's desire to read the stats on the back of each card actually improved his reading skills. <i style="color: #990000;">Yes!</i> <br />
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After we moved to Alabama, my hubby and our son went to see the Atlanta Braves in action. Back then, I tried to remember all their names, the positions they played, their manager's name and temperament, etc. I wanted our son to know I really did care about his interests and it was a fun way to connect with our quiet son. His eyes would light up while telling me the latest sports news, and I treasure those memories.<br />
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It was common practice for Jason to gather up all the neighbor boys and bring them to our yard for after-school practice. When fresh cookies came out of my oven, they'd drop their mitts and come running. Our kitchen was full of energetic boys babbling baseball stats and giving one another high-fives on their accomplishments in the front yard. After the cookies were gone, they'd thank me and dash back out to continue their game.<br />
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When our son asked about playing on a local league, we looked into it. Turns out the L.A. Dodgers were looking for new players. <i style="color: #0b5394;">(L.A. as in Leighton, Alabama, that is.)</i><span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span> During orientation, we met and talked with the coach and got to know the other parents. Uniforms were ordered and the waiting game began. When his came in, I remember how our son eye's lit up the first time he tried it on. <i><span style="color: #990000;">I</span><span style="color: #990000;"> also noticed the way his confidence increased. He </span><span style="color: #990000;">was part of a team!</span> </i> <br />
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A few years later, basketball was the game of choice -- perhaps because his legs were long and his hands were huge and he was good at rebounds. Whatever the reason, he practiced at our goal for hours on end. I loved looking out the kitchen window to see him dash about the yard and give a play-by-play report. At the recreation center in town, he was a team player all the way...shouting encouragement, patting his teammates' backs, commending good plays. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1E20EYXdaWpKPMVa6l91VucbF-26E6I8IlN8LkAPNRHATOXT5grKdeWoZWISlQx8Xs0GqMGIspu8xIk0OlyyU0HhKS9_LNgbhugrsVts_NiMeGJDX6y3gRt6KbOUF-q3akmqZRryn-Md/s1600/looking+thru+keyhole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1E20EYXdaWpKPMVa6l91VucbF-26E6I8IlN8LkAPNRHATOXT5grKdeWoZWISlQx8Xs0GqMGIspu8xIk0OlyyU0HhKS9_LNgbhugrsVts_NiMeGJDX6y3gRt6KbOUF-q3akmqZRryn-Md/s320/looking+thru+keyhole.jpg" width="213" /></a><i><span style="color: #990000;">So how <u>do</u> parents make a decision about competitive sports for their children? It would be easier to stick your head in a corner and not deal with it, right? But you want to be sure ... you want to know if it's the right thing for your child, your family, and your schedule. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">In looking back on our experience, allow me to share my heart ... </span></span></i><br />
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First, you pray about it while considering your child's level of interest. You also weigh your ability to keep up with the schedule and remember there must be time for school work, chores and family time. You also discuss the importance of seeing something through and not being a quitter.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #0b5394;">But what about the other kids, the coach you barely know and those parents who might not be the best influence on your child? </span></i> That's a tough question ... but in the long run, you have to remember this simple statement -- there is no set rule written in black and white about competitive sports teams and your children. So you weigh the options and try your best not to make it a bigger deal than it is. <br />
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<i><span style="color: #990000;">Our children are going to face difficulties in life and run into some tough things along the way. </span></i><i style="color: #990000;">They are going to learn what it's like to excel and to fail, on or off the field or court. At what age do they learn those things best?</i> <br />
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Our children must learn what it means to get along with others outside the family and be a good sport when things don't go their way. They must learn to be fair and honest and encourage fellow team-mate (or fellow employees) as they go through life. When and where they learn these lessons, however, lies in your hands as the parents.<br />
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It's entirely possible to learn the basics of these lessons in your own home and shield your child from involvement in outside venues, but it doesn't give them the experience. Outside the home, in less-than-idea settings, you are tested. You quickly learn that not everyone abides by the same rules. Not everyone is honest or fair of kind, and while that's a tough lesson, it's an important one.</div>
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<i>Whatever you decide to do, remember that a child's personality and natural gifts also play into the equation.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JvqRqkna55Tc8MNiTMw5HMrLXP2S-lLiIClkMBOe1t6UnKRFbKrzUFiTC1I7E7G-uM3rbHYeF1Xdz6xFO_G4-iFpThDGy1ffCwV8joxrMHLI9bKggnAD7Fjd0ScPm6oB0PhK5z5INatI/s1600/Kevin+the+tinker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JvqRqkna55Tc8MNiTMw5HMrLXP2S-lLiIClkMBOe1t6UnKRFbKrzUFiTC1I7E7G-uM3rbHYeF1Xdz6xFO_G4-iFpThDGy1ffCwV8joxrMHLI9bKggnAD7Fjd0ScPm6oB0PhK5z5INatI/s1600/Kevin+the+tinker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JvqRqkna55Tc8MNiTMw5HMrLXP2S-lLiIClkMBOe1t6UnKRFbKrzUFiTC1I7E7G-uM3rbHYeF1Xdz6xFO_G4-iFpThDGy1ffCwV8joxrMHLI9bKggnAD7Fjd0ScPm6oB0PhK5z5INatI/s320/Kevin+the+tinker.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Our second son, Kevin, was perfectly at ease without a lot of companionship. He was quite a loner, at times, with his books, toys and games. Team interaction, organized sports and competition were not his thing ... but he did love tinkering with things, taking them apart and putting them back together. He was a real whiz with machines and taught me how to check the oil in our riding lawn mower<i> <span style="color: #990000;">when he was only five.</span></i><br />
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He also liked drawing detailed diagrams of inventions he dreamed up. Kevin enjoyed reading instruction manuals and game rules. He built detailed scenes and contraptions with LEGO toys. <i><span style="color: #990000;">No surprise, then, that Kevin is now a highly-trained computer technician who trains others.</span></i><br />
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Jason, on the other hand, was just the opposite. <i><span style="color: #0b5394;">He thrived on teamwork, group activities and collected G.I. Joe stuff. </span></i> He liked wearing uniforms and belonging to a collective group that worked like a fine-tuned machine. Today he is part of an elite security team that protects your freedoms.<br />
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<i>So study your children. Know what makes them tick. Pray about everything, including sports. Just as you allowed your children to try their skills at walking and encouraged them when they had boo-boos, so you can and should be their support system in science fairs, speech contests and (perhaps), sports.</i></div>
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Yes, there are other ways to expose children to others, including their peers, coaches and other parents, and you can pray about that, too. If, however, you join a sports team in the community, your child can be a good example of sportsmanship. You, on the bleachers, can be a friend to other parents and invite them to church.<br />
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I think we made the mistake, all too often, of trying to expose our children only to like-minded families and their children. In some ways, this stunted their ability to adapt to people of different beliefs and make tough decisions on their own when we weren't around.<br />
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Maybe it is better to join a group of others on the ball field or in a gymnasium while you are conspicuously present. This is not overprotecting young children -- this is letting them know you are supportive. From the sidelines, you can observe what goes on. You can encourage your child with a nod, a smile or a wink. Later, on the way home, you are available to listen or to answer questions and discuss how things went. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOZ-vivLf0vAgXwGon4pOLD7JCXdimdZG-JVRmGRHPFlUoYbo0HGmEcjvO-J-3rhQ994siKbPd0sxrK2kuCaDC4G0wNOvX4RemNW_rUfZ6PFGHTQuh7NH4zQ-EJN7XDCKG9VNtONN0M9y/s1600/Melissa+10+years+old+recital.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOZ-vivLf0vAgXwGon4pOLD7JCXdimdZG-JVRmGRHPFlUoYbo0HGmEcjvO-J-3rhQ994siKbPd0sxrK2kuCaDC4G0wNOvX4RemNW_rUfZ6PFGHTQuh7NH4zQ-EJN7XDCKG9VNtONN0M9y/s320/Melissa+10+years+old+recital.bmp" width="320" /></a><br />
We can't hide from everything that's out there. We can't shine light where it isn't dark. We can't always protect our children. As a parent, you must decide when your child is ready to go 'on stage" in life while you watch from the curtains. Close, but not hovering ... trusting the Lord, but never abandoning your child.<br />
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<i style="color: #0b5394;">Pray about it. Consider each of your children individually. Each is uniquely designed and is at this moment being developed for a "life calling." That's an awesome thought! So however you encourage your child in life and whether you participate in organized sports or not, do whatever you do with faith ...</i> <i style="color: #990000;">and do it with all your heart.</i>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-12702275563534701602012-04-10T12:30:00.002-07:002012-12-14T21:48:28.160-08:00Me and my little wand<div style="color: #e69138;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #b45f06;"><i>I suppose everyone wishes for a magic wand now and then, but especially a busy mother with young children. Just think w</i><i>hat we could get done in one day if we had one!</i></span></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ea/Magic_Wand.svg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ea/Magic_Wand.svg" /></a>First thing after breakfast, we'd take it out of its hiding place. (We would never let a powerful wand lie around the house). Why, you say? Because the kids might turn their toys into live objects or wish for a gazillion guppies in the fish tank or transport themselves to the moon and back without our permission -- <i>that's why. </i><br />
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So, back to your own hiding place and out with the wand! After breakfast each day, you take that little star stick and <i style="color: #e69138;"><b><span style="color: #b45f06;">"Presto, Change-o"</span></b></i> those musically-enhanced stars change things immediately! Dirty dishes turn into sparkling-clean dishes resting on their proper shelves. Gently tap the kitchen floor on your way out, and that same wand mops up breakfast spills and leaves the floor looking brand new. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJakDtmhM3X0fYQezoo8Jfnwuz2jFNbeUjRuhUSWkyKW0q6dbe7o3S9ypubeI7HTOBMuyK-9FOudhoxrfxO3ibOQz4w_qRfNv0lQzFoeZXSRIJhvSQ6cVM0PEoP2EzywocqENjQXK_HNX/s1600/Kids+in+Kentucky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvJN7ENoc-OMwJI_dfjcyB5TMMB1XEJinaVtyr8hWNtZGN2tAdqfsfT1Na8qM8zI0gXt2aoJ5Wmn843hEdpAgh5mOgAtOcrl42TxAEAJe0JcWMtAfPSCiTWAoOmDmDpm94efYtqhxrwiB/s1600/Ethan,+our+little+bedhead+grandson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvJN7ENoc-OMwJI_dfjcyB5TMMB1XEJinaVtyr8hWNtZGN2tAdqfsfT1Na8qM8zI0gXt2aoJ5Wmn843hEdpAgh5mOgAtOcrl42TxAEAJe0JcWMtAfPSCiTWAoOmDmDpm94efYtqhxrwiB/s200/Ethan,+our+little+bedhead+grandson.jpg" width="200" /></a>It's on to the laundry room, where we zap that pile of dirty clothes into fresh and clean, pre-matched and sorted clothing. And not just any clothing -- this kind floats or dances its own way down the hall to the proper bedroom closets and drawers. All the while, we are standing there watching, hands clasped, a delighted little sigh escaping our lips. Absolutely no effort required on our parts, except a little wave of the wand!<i style="color: #cc0000;"></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpu0C1bRSnPHe_Jj8r3a7NP54QJD0yR4K5p3UxVgazGONiQU5fop3A5yd3LTD6HSWN2-x-LTf6GhBc4MjThwCGciAEZ9b5ZZjZJQ8gpbiIyFFmPySEqU8jDWTkHujWz_cL56eRAkqDBvM/s1600/Noah+Heil+-+22+months.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpu0C1bRSnPHe_Jj8r3a7NP54QJD0yR4K5p3UxVgazGONiQU5fop3A5yd3LTD6HSWN2-x-LTf6GhBc4MjThwCGciAEZ9b5ZZjZJQ8gpbiIyFFmPySEqU8jDWTkHujWz_cL56eRAkqDBvM/s200/Noah+Heil+-+22+months.jpg" width="133" /></a>That's when a little voice behind us interrupts with "Mommy?" We suddenly snap back to the kitchen of reality -- the one with cereal bowls still on the table, a puddle of juice in front of the fridge and the distinct drift that there may be a diaper close by that needs our attention. <br />
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When we have to leave our little magic wands behind, we can either pout or praise our Lord for giving us something <i>far more precious than a stick that sends musical stars blinging</i>. We have little helpers living at home that need to be trained to assist with household chores. <i style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></i><br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #b45f06;">More importantly, they are actually ready and willing to help if we will only let them pitch in while we work alongside.</span> </i></b></div>
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You've probably had dozens of offers through the years -- those little tugs on your shirt or skirt while you're in front of a sink full of dishes. The little voice that chortles, "Me help?" And, as is so often the case,<i> we say, "It's okay, Mommy will be done in a minute." </i><br />
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The problem with this is our misinterpretation of a child's request. We thought they wanted to help, but children don't see us as *needing* their help. In their eyes, we know everything and especially how to get a job done. They've seen us do it before - again and again. <br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #b45f06;">What they want is a piece of the action!</span> </i></b><br />
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Those suds look like fun! And how do the dishes go in one side of the sink and come out on the other so clean and shiny? Or how does a mop do what it does? <i>And, oh, yes! May they please help play in (er, clean) the toilet?!? </i>Better train 'em while you can, Moms...<i><br /></i><br />
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Years ago, I would transform myself into different characters while training our little ones to do chores. On some days I was Mrs. Sweet, and they were coming to help sweep floors for me or load the dishwasher. Mrs. Sweet was very kind, but she also fell asleep a lot and began to snore. You can imagine how quiet our kiddos tried to be while Mrs. Sweet napped. They also giggled and whispered when she snored!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJakDtmhM3X0fYQezoo8Jfnwuz2jFNbeUjRuhUSWkyKW0q6dbe7o3S9ypubeI7HTOBMuyK-9FOudhoxrfxO3ibOQz4w_qRfNv0lQzFoeZXSRIJhvSQ6cVM0PEoP2EzywocqENjQXK_HNX/s1600/Kids+in+Kentucky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJakDtmhM3X0fYQezoo8Jfnwuz2jFNbeUjRuhUSWkyKW0q6dbe7o3S9ypubeI7HTOBMuyK-9FOudhoxrfxO3ibOQz4w_qRfNv0lQzFoeZXSRIJhvSQ6cVM0PEoP2EzywocqENjQXK_HNX/s320/Kids+in+Kentucky.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
On other days I was Miz Grump, finding fault with everything they did in a funny way, which made them laugh and try harder to do a job right the first time. When Miz Grump finally smiled and bragged, they were so very proud!<br />
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Then there was Mrs. Honey, whose accent was so very Southern the children had to ask what she was saying sometimes. Mrs. Honey would often talk about "My dearly-depotted husband got me those lovely dishes while serving as a sah-junt in the wah." <br />
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Maybe it was silly, but we had a blast, the children loved the different women they 'worked for' and in the process, our household was in good shape. My precious "magic wands" were hustling to pick up, dust, sweep, fold clothes and unload the dishwasher ... while I, pregnant with #3 at the time, had some time to sit down in the same room and direct them. Or snore, if Mrs. Sweet was visiting.<br />
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You may not invite Mrs. Honey, Miz Grump or Mrs. Sweet into your home, and that's okay. What's important is that you find a way to lovingly train your children to help while they are willing and able. All too soon they will be interested in other things and that very-clear window of opportunity will be streaked and cloudy.<br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #b45f06;">We do our children no favors to let them grow up with no concept of responsibility.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i> </i></b>If you've already let too much time get by you, start out slowly. Come up with a plan that involves time to interact with your child while making beds, sweeping the walk or sorting laundry. Look your child in the eye, smile often and commend any effort put forth to assist you. Be patient and compliment work done well. Aware stickers or free time or play a game your child enjoys after chores are done. In other words, make working together a pleasant experience. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X9-zdg7zS4fH9PzneZA8lgFbgeZ0UrXr-nO4B8tNXRvKfxIUTyuGFpN687obdoCUaCgg3e5sK6usDwCrOJWiadDvwTqlvQmv86FUwVu097wIyhHGpIeFyO1t7zvXyvC0yxkZ57gCuJB2/s1600/Jessie+works+with+Play+Doh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X9-zdg7zS4fH9PzneZA8lgFbgeZ0UrXr-nO4B8tNXRvKfxIUTyuGFpN687obdoCUaCgg3e5sK6usDwCrOJWiadDvwTqlvQmv86FUwVu097wIyhHGpIeFyO1t7zvXyvC0yxkZ57gCuJB2/s200/Jessie+works+with+Play+Doh.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
One more thing I'd have done back then if the magic wand existed. I would have waved it over the table about 5 p.m. when everyone was hungry and tired and a little bit cranky for supper. That's when I would have wiggled my wand and wished for a succulent roast, steamed veggies, a big salad and <i>homemade yeast rolls </i>on the table!<i><br /></i><br />
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But magic wands don't exist, and I learned there's a far better way to get things done. Involve the children in setting the table, preparing a pretty salad and putting some muscle into rolling out the rolls.<br />
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Training children takes time. Lots of time, but in the long run, it pays good dividends. They'll learn to make their own beds, keep their rooms neat and carry their dirty dishes to the sink after meals -- all without being asked. <br />
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06;"><i>And all the while, you will be standing there watching in amazement -- hands clasped, a delighted little sigh escaping your lips. </i><i>Absolutely no effort required on your part -- except a little wave of the hand to get things done!</i></span></b><i> </i></div>
<br />Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-41807732252104503922012-04-03T07:48:00.002-07:002012-04-07T22:40:59.932-07:00Trackers for Quackers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5mJqxE8RrnOZ0_mmag_u8fR4nSZJuItD6EfeVH3YYKPJiSXmz6x9qIlbRxitEXkGo_0uuURazUXhO01z84qtHNXk_oRMxvXXzypu1hyphenhyphen7eNOQ8fcib0eujUFaOBLGcDdv9hRXL8yn1ILE/s1600/3.20.12++Little+people,+big+geese+reduced+format.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5mJqxE8RrnOZ0_mmag_u8fR4nSZJuItD6EfeVH3YYKPJiSXmz6x9qIlbRxitEXkGo_0uuURazUXhO01z84qtHNXk_oRMxvXXzypu1hyphenhyphen7eNOQ8fcib0eujUFaOBLGcDdv9hRXL8yn1ILE/s1600/3.20.12++Little+people,+big+geese+reduced+format.jpg" style="color: #073763;" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">There were three of them</span> ...<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">-- toddlers chasing the ducks and geese </span>at our local park, that is -- and having a jolly good time! I can vouch for the fact the toddlers were having fun. The ducks, however, were waddling as fast as they could to escape!<br />
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It was a precious sight and brought back fond memories of taking our three children to feed the ducks at a park in Kentucky. Our three year old son would always remind us to take <i style="color: #38761d;">"trackers for da dutz."</i> So I'd pack a stash of crackers and let the children toss them while we watched the ducks swim, dip and dive.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHFEqRY7XeskeOYioeuIo-Ht8e74JPHikG1Iag1bBJ2HHRY3DIRw5URYeWZgSBGJ0hOxWwWJF5IyDe8_jh__lPO2Ue83pJAyUvUOoxg5CHns4xhBt6B3KiLF-WjCp7nskgHWk7-NTDWVro/s1600/3.20.12+++Calm+and+serene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHFEqRY7XeskeOYioeuIo-Ht8e74JPHikG1Iag1bBJ2HHRY3DIRw5URYeWZgSBGJ0hOxWwWJF5IyDe8_jh__lPO2Ue83pJAyUvUOoxg5CHns4xhBt6B3KiLF-WjCp7nskgHWk7-NTDWVro/s320/3.20.12+++Calm+and+serene.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The Lord did a good thing designing these birds. They are not only beautiful, they instill a certain peace in our hearts if we take time to slow down and just watch them awhile. Dip, dive, float. In the water, a duck or a goose is as graceful as any swan. <br />
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Out of the water, however, they're a bit more awkward but still fast enough to outrun toddlers! Watching them y was like a mini- mental vacation -- an enjoyable few moments of light-hearted fun I needed on that particular day. It was the sight and sound of children giggling, squealing and darting after those honking geese and quacking ducks made me smile. And when I smiled, my heart felt distinctly lighter. <br />
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That day I also took several pix of those sweet children and asked their daddies if they'd like for me to email copies to them. One of them said, "Thanks, but we come here to feed the ducks every week and have hundreds of photos of that already." <i> <span style="color: #38761d;">(I bet his wife would have taken me up on my offer). </span></i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2lIkGGs4Tb9dLWPnuE-APrjewaL-DLi2am0JjVf8hLj8R3wDeA9LbOe-fdv_4RZNzvrH1BJduQibTTv4NhIFuavDG4J7QBpuqgIhYPxF7-GG0C1OWUKa4RgtaLLdpqcOUcLIk8D7-g6z/s1600/3.20.12++Twin+boys+leaving+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2lIkGGs4Tb9dLWPnuE-APrjewaL-DLi2am0JjVf8hLj8R3wDeA9LbOe-fdv_4RZNzvrH1BJduQibTTv4NhIFuavDG4J7QBpuqgIhYPxF7-GG0C1OWUKa4RgtaLLdpqcOUcLIk8D7-g6z/s200/3.20.12++Twin+boys+leaving+park.jpg" width="142" /></a>How good it was to see dads doing something fun with their little ones on a pretty spring day. Children learn a lot as they play, and if we don't get in on the fun, we miss those opportunities to connect with them and share the answers to some of life's big questions ... such as why geese and ducks waddle when they run. So -- kudos to you dads I met at the park that day! Thanks for taking time to buckle your kiddos in their car seats and head to the park for a bit of fun in the sun.</div>
<i> </i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpEEGg-0iSTSU7BirEchlxnb3BUpsrXLb2db2MV_gTaQ6n-csOSxYwkUnm1XGRIyOr-UVxLmEmL8dRh4wolLIZWrWWK1nnsFFPOO6-XMHaq6intlXSRscX28KDJ6pREaus9tqdW9-iSCA/s1600/3.20.12++The+AFLAC+duck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpEEGg-0iSTSU7BirEchlxnb3BUpsrXLb2db2MV_gTaQ6n-csOSxYwkUnm1XGRIyOr-UVxLmEmL8dRh4wolLIZWrWWK1nnsFFPOO6-XMHaq6intlXSRscX28KDJ6pREaus9tqdW9-iSCA/s200/3.20.12++The+AFLAC+duck.jpg" width="160" /></a><i> </i><br />
<i>SPRING .</i>.. it's the flowering before the fruit and a whisper of cool breezes before summer's stifling heat. It's also a perfect time to go on an outing with your kiddos!<br />
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<i>So grab a sun hat and sunscreen, sunglasses, a thermos of water and a simple picnic lunch. Head for the local park or zoo for a few hours and check out the ducks and geese. And whatever you do, take some </i><i><span style="font-size: small;">Trackers for the Quackers!</span></i></div>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-31623365038011893022012-03-30T10:07:00.000-07:002012-03-31T23:49:50.873-07:00"No" is a perfectly good word ...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqntwuEmEsqO-AGJHmpm1grt94nxt5CIj4P3FPe4XMqePKYPbRTfVpKvMBXhOctMEIzMq42M4VPKmjUXcCXXYpk3EBnU__PBc6eKmrz-D1hLBDAH1HPHhTBMAZc2tnIr9aASmGg5SdTyh/s1600/Melany+Creiglow,+Brazil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqntwuEmEsqO-AGJHmpm1grt94nxt5CIj4P3FPe4XMqePKYPbRTfVpKvMBXhOctMEIzMq42M4VPKmjUXcCXXYpk3EBnU__PBc6eKmrz-D1hLBDAH1HPHhTBMAZc2tnIr9aASmGg5SdTyh/s1600/Melany+Creiglow,+Brazil.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #073763;">I guessed her to be about 3 years old</i></span><i style="color: #073763;"> </i><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #073763;">...</i> </span><br />
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... a precious child alone in the checkout lane next to me. She was browsing the rows of candy at her eye level and patting them gently. Dressed in a ruffled top with tights and ballerina slippers, she looked like a little doll. Choosing a candy bar, she turned to leave the aisle and then hesitated with a look that said, <span style="color: #073763;"> </span><i style="color: #073763;">Is it okay to take this?</i><br />
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My first reaction was to think, <i>Who would leave such a precious child on her own like that? </i> Then I noticed that she (I'll call her Caitlyn) was obviously communicating with someone I hadn't noticed. By gestures and raised eyebrows, she was asking permission for her candy bar. <br />
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I glanced behind me and spotted a grown-up version of Caitlyn, a lovely young woman who was busy with a baby. The other, a beautiful lady seated in a wheel chair just 10 feet from us, had eyes on Caitlyn the whole time, as she should. She'd probably given her little granddaughter permission to choose a treat under her watchful eye. <span style="color: #073763;"> </span><i style="color: #073763;">Or had she?</i><br />
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Caitlyn continued to wave the candy bar, but the grandmother slowly shook her head <i style="color: #073763;">no</i>. So she put it back and chose another sticky-sweet treat. <i style="color: #073763;">Maybe this one? </i> Again the grandmother firmly signaled a negative response. Persistent, Caitlyn continued holding up one gooey goody after another, each time looking back over her shoulder. Each time, Granny shook her head <i style="color: #073763;">no. </i><br />
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Shoulders slumped, the child gave an audible sigh, walked back to her grandmother and whispered something in her ear. Moments later, she skipped happily back to the aisle beside me. This time, Caitlyn chose a box of cheesy fish crackers. With a big smile she turned, got the okay from her grandmother and did a little jig on the way back to join her family.<br />
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They're quite rare you know - young children who are trained at home to behave in public. Even when told <i style="color: #073763;">no</i>, this child didn't kick or scream or pitch a fit to get her way... even after being turned down numerous times!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I think I've figured it out, though ... </i></span></div>
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Caitlyn went to the counter knowing ahead of time that sweets weren't what Granny would agree to buy. But she tried anyhow ... hoping, maybe, that her cute smile and big brown eyes would melt grandmother's heart and she'd get her way. But that didn't happen, and I'm glad it didn't.<br />
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You see, if we go back on our word, children and grandchildren soon learn we can be connived into bending the rules. Because sometimes they're too cute to resist. If we allow children to think they can wheedle their way because they are cute or well-behaved, we are setting them up for failure in the future.<br />
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Teachers can't let children by with something just because they're cute, nor can the principal or a Sunday School teacher or -- as they get older -- a policeman. We owe them our loving guidance and good training now -- no matter how cute they are! It isn't always easy, but we know it's the right thing to do.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Consistency is necessary in child training, and "no" is a perfectly good word.</i></span></div>
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I caught that grandmother's eye and smiled, then waved goodbye to Caitlyn. <i> </i>Because she is being taught to respect the word "no" and do the right thing, Caitlyn will be able to say<i> <span style="color: #073763;">no</span></i> to other things in her lifetime -- things that are much more harmful than a sticky-sweet treat.<br />
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And partly because she had a grandmother who loved her too much to give in when she wanted to bend the rules. Was Granny making too big a deal out of a candy bar? I don't think so. I believe she was guiding and teaching her granddaughter that self-discipline and honesty are important traits. And if a candy bar is at the center of that life lesson, so be it.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">I want to be a Nana like that -- loving, generous, fun -- all while being calmly consistent with the little rules that can make a big difference. Our grandchildren will be better for it in the long run. </span> </i></span></div>
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<br /></div>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283531563333914651.post-9642560654471499552012-03-27T07:46:00.001-07:002012-03-27T08:11:22.262-07:00WHY?I'd forgotten just how many times a three-year-old tends to ask the question <b style="color: #0b5394;"><i>"Why?" </i></b><br />
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We went to visit with our daughter and family this past weekend for Ethan's 3rd birthday party! Since our last visit in November, he has grown and developed a much larger vocabulary. Words like "disappeared" and "disappointed" pop up quite often. <br />
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He also learned a few new words while we worked a puzzle about shapes. The trapezoid shape was a favorite, and he thought it sounded funny when he said it. Then I introduced the word "parallelogram." It was the most difficult, but he nailed it before the evening was over. <br />
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But it was that three-letter word <b><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">why</span></i></b> that ranked highest on the scale for usage, and that's okay. Children at that age are learning the how and why of things, and their reasoning skills are kicking in. Simple things, like why I was using mousse on my hair or using two hair appliances (curling brush, curling iron) prompted that <b><i style="color: #0b5394;">why</i></b> question. I'm not sure my explanations really helped much, because another <i>why</i> often popped out -- for an explanation of my explanation!<br />
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Ethan is growing up, and part of growing up is learning. That's why he wanted everything explained to him -- so he could wrap his sweet mind around it and understand the reasoning behind it. Why did I like a different cereal than Papaw? Why do I
like the color blue? Why can't his Papaw and Nana stay longer? <br />
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<b><i>The need to figure life out is a tremendous urge in children.
They're working hard to fit what they're seeing and hearing with what
they already know ... and how it all somehow blends together and ends up
being okay in their little world.</i></b></div>
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We adults also have a tendency to question why things happen the way they do. Why we have to get up so early, why we can't lose that extra 10 pounds, why the kids or grand kids have to live so far away, why gas and grocery prices continue to rise! On a deeper level, why do good people seem to suffer more than law-breakers, who seem to get by with murder? Why do our leaders not listen to their constituents concerning the energy crisis, lack of jobs, fair taxes, and more? <b style="color: #0b5394;"><i>Why, why, why?!?</i></b><br />
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Father, help me to run to you when I have <span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: black;">my own </span></span></span><b style="color: #0b5394;"><i>why</i></b><span style="color: #38761d;"> </span>questions.<i><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> What I see and hear doesn't always fit with what I already know, and that bothers me. And things don't always seem to end up being okay in my little world, and I fret. </span></b></i> Yet You have promised that things actually do end up being okay, because what happens is for my good and Your glory. That means it really is good and right, so I don't have to know the why.<br />
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One day, I will look back and see things from Your viewpoint and then understand and know the <b style="color: #0b5394;"><i>why</i></b> of it all. Until then, help me to rest in what you have said in Your Word and not always ask for the reasons why. You'll never deceive me or tempt me, because You only do what is good and right.<br />
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<i><b>Oh ... and I know why! It's because you love me so.</b></i><br />
<br /></div>Nan Keltie Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006062146774236103noreply@blogger.com0