tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61432463990584662482024-03-05T15:44:18.269-08:00Espirit de BrigitteOne life, one heart, one family.Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.comBlogger706125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-43159538835385499862023-03-15T22:10:00.005-07:002023-03-16T08:54:41.921-07:00Mother of the Year!<p>March 15, 2023 - Beware of the Ides of March!</p><p>Sometimes, I have some fine moments in parenting. And by fine, I mean memorable. And enthusiastic. And terrifying for my children. This week, all of my kids with me. My college boys are home for spring break and we have a full house with the 6 of us.</p><p>We have a family chat on Messenger. It's useful for when the big boys are at college and the other kids are either at my house or Tymon's. So no matter where we are, we can all connect with each other. </p><p>So this morning, Elliott showed me something concerning in the bathroom off the kitchen. The tub was full of excrement. Poo juice. When you're sliding into home and your pants are full of foam … diarrhea. It was bad. And I got mad. Like WHAT KID would do this?! Graeden was still asleep and as I talked to each of them, it was clear that neither big boy did this. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I go into investigative mode and text this photo to the family chat:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: What the actual hell? (not my finest moment)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkH52dzpF0qVQ6qYHhkgrpkQRRhZWQhS08wC82iMZmyDR_aOhd3h0vJirBA9HfhLNVOkXf7xtrDUhMzqdGGDSsi0c9PqGSwCLAR2yAA0ZQ0uO_2V5KARt57bRb9ta1qWge5-FTXwSHTS8/s1600/1678939305313106-0.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkH52dzpF0qVQ6qYHhkgrpkQRRhZWQhS08wC82iMZmyDR_aOhd3h0vJirBA9HfhLNVOkXf7xtrDUhMzqdGGDSsi0c9PqGSwCLAR2yAA0ZQ0uO_2V5KARt57bRb9ta1qWge5-FTXwSHTS8/w151-h320/1678939305313106-0.png" width="151" />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whoever had an attack of the poops and thought it would be a great idea to let 'er rip in the tub, has a great clean up project for this afternoon. It will be clean before I get home!!! If not, I will clean it later. And charge each one of you $75. (I figure this is worth $375 for me to clean up.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">JOCELYN: Who did it?? Cause it wasn't me, and I'm not paying that! I think it was clean before I went to school</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: I expect a full apology. To the offending kid, feel free to cut and paste and send me the following:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mom, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm sorry for leaving a mess in the bathtub. I had an accident and didn't know what to do so I hopped into the tub to clean myself up. Then there was another explosion. I tried to do the best I could. I'm sorry for not cleaning the mess. I thought it would go down the drain and I could clean the tub later. I didn't realize I plugged up the tub with my waste.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was wrong not to give you heads up, Mom. It's better for me to tell you stuff rather than have you make choking discoveries that leave you nauseated and dry heaving.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the future, and before you get home at 5:30pm, I'll plunge the tub, clear the drain and wash the tub so that it shines.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Will you forgive me?</div></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">KIRA: I didn't even go in that bathroom today and last time I was in there the Toilette was clean</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">JOCELYN: Whoever did it, I hate you. To mom, me Kira and Jett cleaned the bathroom, cause we're not paying money for some other kids fecal problems.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">GRAEDEN: Thanks for cleaning your mess</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">JOCELYN: Not my mess, likely yours though. All I'm saying is, was not gross before I went to school, was after. And, before you two got here, we've never had this problem.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">TYMON: Totally unrelated but, do any of you guys have any history of walking in your sleep?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">GRAEDEN: Jocelyn does</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">JOCELYN: Again, not a mess before school. You were asleep though</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">TYMON: I mean, Graeden did use the wall next to his bed to wipe boogers all the time in Brazil, so this kind of fits the mold</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">GRAEDEN: Mm-hmm</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">JOCELYN: I agree</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">KIRA: And Graeden had Taco Bell yesterday and probably the day before</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">ME: I still haven't gotten the apology </span>…<span style="font-family: inherit;"> so I guess I still have to charge.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">KIRA: MOM NO! I have spent an hour on cleaning someone else's stupid crap</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">JOCELYN: We cleaned the toilet!! Please!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">KIRA: nah</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">ELLIOTT: It was Jocelyn. She called the tub a toilet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">JOCELYN: The toilet also had shit so there's that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">KIRA: Facts</span></p><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, by this time, I'm thinking, it's got to be Jett. He's the only kid I haven't heard from. But nonetheless, I'm pleased that the three younger kids have gotten everything cleaned up. So, I get home, smell quite a bit of Lysol and go into the bathroom to double check how it looks. I mean we ought to be able to eat off that tub. And what do I find??? Not only is the tub FULL of crap again, but the toilet is full to overflowing. Literally crap flowing out of it. And to top it off?! Water is streaming out of the tub's overflow.</span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTA39VSc34uG6P1gnRQHWT82rALgHxD-5_WVb3-C6G2gQi_OE5EC3VbL1pzwA9YWuWDICAMa4SopB_J_xOkPtxB-jZVP2HOzh7Op3kyWTtoL_wxu6estV6SiJLSyuVhTQqqALaT1cI_o/s1600/1678939303840634-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTA39VSc34uG6P1gnRQHWT82rALgHxD-5_WVb3-C6G2gQi_OE5EC3VbL1pzwA9YWuWDICAMa4SopB_J_xOkPtxB-jZVP2HOzh7Op3kyWTtoL_wxu6estV6SiJLSyuVhTQqqALaT1cI_o/w151-h320/1678939303840634-1.png" width="151" /> </a></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ah, so none of my kids are actually dumb enough to fill a tub with poo. My main sewer line is messed up. I made a call, put in a claim on my home warranty service and now the plumber will call me within 48 hours. Yikes.</span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, it seems like the right time for me to give my kids a full apology...</span></div><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Lovies,</span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Please forgive me for getting angry when I thought one of you had pooped all over the place. This was wrong because I need to control my emotions. I should know that my kids would never be so gross. And disgusting. You are all so much much cleaner than tub poopers. I also apologize for threatening you with fines. In the future, when I have questions, I will reserve judgement and ask what I need to know with kindness and respect. Will you please forgive me?</span></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Love,</span></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="x1r8uery x1iyjqo2" role="none" style="flex-basis: 0px; flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mom</span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">PS. If you gotta pee, go outside and water the yard. Wait to poo until you're at school and pray that the plumber can fix this mess soon.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-68202761712983144232022-01-30T14:59:00.007-08:002022-01-30T15:02:22.296-08:00God of the Box Checkers<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I spoke in church this morning. I have never gotten such a positive response ever when speaking in church. A dozen people hugged me after the service. Several more who watched via Zoom sent me texts. I felt the love and truly believe that if more of us shared our authentic selves, our communities would stand stronger and be more inclusive. Here is the text of my speech:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Talking
about the Restoration is hard for me. Mostly because over the past few years my
religious beliefs have been shifting. A little here. A little there. And as I’ve
prepared for this talk over the last month, I’ve accumulated about 25 pages
worth of ideas on what to say. Don’t worry, only a few made the final cut.
However, I couldn’t find a good flow surrounding the topic of the Restoration. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I’m going
to talk about my faith journey instead, which at times is beautiful and other times
very unsettling. Some of you may not agree with my conclusions. That’s okay. Just
remember that our diversity makes us stronger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a
child, I had absolute trust in my parents and the church. I believed in what
some people call the God of the Missing Car Keys. I prayed with faith to find
whatever needed finding. In school, I prayed before I studied so that the Lord
could bless me with remembrance during tests. I believed in the God of faith
and healing. I believed in the God of miracles and wonder. I believed in
priesthood blessings. And it worked. God answered my prayers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
considered the blessed and happy state of those who kept the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>commandments of God like King Mosiah in
the Book of Mormon counseled. With a sure foundation, I grew in love and
understanding. I was happy. And content with my life. Any issues I had, I just
swept under the rug…because contention is of the devil and we don’t want that
in our home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I thought
my carefree and happy-go-lucky life was due to my obedience to the
commandments. I moved into believing into the God of the Box-Checkers. Maybe
you haven’t heard of that before… King Mosiah pretty much teaches his people
all about it in the second chapter of his book with a list of everything God
wants you to do. If you serve others you’ll be happy. Ooh, we weeded Sister
Kibbie’s garden. Check. And I gave Sister Huff a ride home from the RS
activity. Check. If you don’t lie, steal, murder or commit adultery, you’ll be
happy. Got those down, check! Our contemporary church boxes include behaviors like
attending church every Sunday, saying daily prayers, paying tithing, and fasting
every month. Check! Check, check, check! Serve a mission. Check! Marry a
returned missionary, Get married in the temple, Have a quiver full of children.
Check, check and double check. Go to the temple, give to the poor, serve in the
church, hold family scripture reading every night, and family prayers. So many boxes
and so many checks!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was basically
crushing it. All those boxes. I’m earning an “A” grade in gospel faithfulness
and have a front row seat in the Celestial Kingdom. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That's the point in my journey where I was seriously contemplating, why wasn’t I happy?
Everything that was supposed to give me happiness left me feeling drained and
exhausted. There were times when the disconnect was so great that it felt like
I was floating above myself and observing what was happening. Instead of
feeling the emotions of the moment, I was wondering how I was supposed to be feeling.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spirituality
is supposed to be transactional, right? If we check off Box A then we’ll feel
Positive Emotion X. But it didn’t work for me. I checked off Box A and instead
of feeling X, I felt resentful. And the resentment didn’t feel good. So I
pushed it down. Way down. I didn’t want that in my life and refused to deal
with it. And I had faith it would all work out eventually.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first
time my husband and I went to marriage counseling we had two young sons. I didn’t
know if our marriage would survive. It was rocky for months. We chose to move
forward with faith. We chose family. And put on our happy faces and kept going.
In the next two years, we added two more boys to our family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In late
spring 2008, I read an article in the local Tribune about exchange students and
one coming from Serbia. I felt impressed that we needed to host her. I initially
thought that this opportunity was a great way to get my Slavic mission culture
into our home. I got quite a few comments about why in the world I would want
to host an exchange student. We already had too much going on. That was true.
But don’t we always? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There have
been just a handful of times when I’ve recognized when God was prompting me to
do something. And this was one of those times for me. It’s true, there wasn’t a
box to check off for exchange students. But we surely don’t always need boxes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At the end
of August 2008, Jovana, our Serbian exchange student came to live with us for
the school year. At the time, I was working part time outside the home and full
time as a mother of 4 boys ages 4, 3, 2 and 1. Plus, I was 8 months pregnant. Jovana
immediately meshed into our family life. She played with the boys every day
after school and made sure to always do her household chore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We lived
near the high school in a small 3 bedroom home. My husband and I shared the
main bedroom, all of the boys shared a bedroom, and the 3<sup>rd</sup> and smallest
room was our home office. That’s where we set up a cot for Jovana. It was easy
to connect with her every night as she’d come and sit on her cot after reading
bedtime stories to the boys. We made sure we were off our computers by 10pm so
she could have some degree of privacy. It was only supposed to be for a couple
of weeks as we were buying a new house. The home was under construction and the
closing date kept getting pushed out. We actually didn’t move until November,
so she slept on that cot for about 3 months. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">About 3
weeks after Jovana came to live with us, our youngest son Evan passed away. Our
world stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Several of
you here today were a part of our community who stepped up to help us navigate this
grief. I’m grateful for your love and support even after all of these years.
Jovana was a key part of my initial healing from this major trauma. I believe
she came into our lives when she did as a blessing from God. An answer to future
prayers I hadn’t yet asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Evan died
on a Tuesday. We buried him on Saturday. Monday morning the last visiting
family member flew home. And Monday afternoon, I gave birth to Jocelyn. She was
a ray of sunshine in my darkest time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I hold a
lot of anger for this period of my life. I checked off all the boxes and my son
died. Where was God when my husband gave Evan a healing blessing? Where was God
when over 20 people in the ER were working to save him? Why couldn’t my faith or
my mother’s love save him?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
experienced a tremendous outpouring of love during this time. Maybe from a few
box-checkers…but mostly from those who genuinely cared. Jovana held our home
together in the ensuing weeks when I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. We
bonded in adversity. I felt a deep connection with her in my soul and consider
her a member of my family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I
remember back on this intense time of sadness, new waves of tears and grief
come. At the same time my capacity to hold love has increased. Without the
intense pain, I wouldn’t have felt the love. The two conflicting emotions each fight
to occupy the same space. My favorite scripture at that time was one where
Nephi is having a vision about Christ’s birth and the angel asks him a question
to which he responds,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="verse" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="verse-number"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; padding: 0in;">…</span></span><span style="color: black;">
I know that [God] loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning
of all things. 1NE 11:17<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn’t
understand why Evan died. Nevertheless, I knew God loved me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In 2013 we
traveled to Serbia for Jovana’s sister’s wedding. Both her family and the groom’s
family greeted us and welcomed us into their celebrations as if we were one of
them. There are many traditions that surround a Serbian Orthadox wedding and we
were privileged to participate in all of them as family members. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There was
so much love, it left me feeling unsettled. E<span style="color: #222222;">rroneously, I've believed all my
life that the strongest families on the planet are found within my own
religion. This just isn't the case. I was experiencing love and connection
stronger than any other family I’d ever known.<br />
<br />
I don't want to pretend that Jovana’s family all have rosy lives without
challenges. They're real just like the rest of us. It's just that the spirit of
love and inclusion they showed not only me, as an outsider, but also for their
other family members touched my soul. There was no judgement over anyone’s
choices. They loved each person’s faults as much as their positive traits. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to be just like them. They
didn’t need a check box to develop that kind of love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Goodness can be found outside of
our church. Happiness can be cultivated out of love and acceptance and trusting
that other people do what’s best for them, even if they make choices that we
wouldn’t make ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">About 4
years ago, my husband left the church. The first Sunday I brought my now 5 children
to church without my husband was hard. I wanted to cry. I deeply felt the loss
of what I thought we once were. I felt like crying in the chapel every Sunday
for months especially when someone would ask me where he was. Over the next several
months, three of my 5 living children also stopped going to church. My husband
leaving our shared religion exposed cracks in our marriage that we’d been
ignoring for years. It’s been hard to address those issues with love and
without judgement. We went to marriage counseling again to see if we could
break the unhelpful communication cycles we get into.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is
where I’m not sure how well I’m handling my mixed faith family situation. I can
say that the pain is gone and I can attend church without tears. As a former
box checker, my faith is maturing somewhat. I no longer find peace in my
previous black and white thinking. I find rigidity to be overly divisive and
contentious. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to let go and trust
that each member of my family is making the best decisions that they can for
themselves. We don’t all have to make the same choices to feel love or
belonging in our family.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhB5UVsewWxcRVN2KMYnMkp3YmXLZKOqI87lq4R5BLhcCk-shefMHyg_sp7h1onh-1acmnkbt-GzvoNoZ1SSarFeH_00Mvca7xPTZMu40r3zqwuYW9gci3bymGhlngQl_tvNcT9QgMeXV8sUYl8nifhpo-ckeTgR1nhh5-s0ZZGdc9lGztKihskqPrT=s1440" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="1440" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhB5UVsewWxcRVN2KMYnMkp3YmXLZKOqI87lq4R5BLhcCk-shefMHyg_sp7h1onh-1acmnkbt-GzvoNoZ1SSarFeH_00Mvca7xPTZMu40r3zqwuYW9gci3bymGhlngQl_tvNcT9QgMeXV8sUYl8nifhpo-ckeTgR1nhh5-s0ZZGdc9lGztKihskqPrT=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My faith has become more and
more nuanced as I learn to listen to my heart and analyze my beliefs. I’ve
dropped the boxes. Even the cultural boxes like thinking that I should wear a
dress to church on Sundays. It took a lot of effort to drop that one. My New
Year’s Resolution in 2019 was to wear pants to church every week. I calculated
that I’ve worn a dress to church approximately 2000 times in my life. Wearing
pants for 50 Sundays shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But it was. It was so
uncomfortable for me in the beginning. Forget how others may have judged me. I
was judging me. Most of you observed this and know that I was successful and
accomplished my goal. It turns out that 2019 was a slippery slope. 2020 brought
about church in pajamas for a lot of us. Now that we’re back in person, I allow
myself to choose each week whether I want to wear pants or a skirt without
pressure from a cultural tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Do I
believe in a literal Restoration of the gospel? I used to. Now I’m not so sure.
At this point in my faith journey, I’m content with not knowing. I don’t think
the question really matters. It has nothing to do with how I show up for my
family, ward or community. I believe there’s a place for me at church as a
doubter and questioner. While life has lost its certainty, it’s presently
enough for me to associate with the Saints because you’re my people. We’ve been
through a lot together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am
curious and have questions about the Restoration. I mean what if it isn’t even
about restoring the ancient church? What if it’s about restoring us and our
relationship to the Divine? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if the
childhood faith we once held and lost is what needs restoring? What if the rigorous
box checking we learned in our youth needs to give way to love? What if our
judgements should be replaced by trust and acceptance? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What if we’re
wrong about faith? There are billions of people on this planet who believe
differently than we do. Can we be happy in the strong community that we’ve
built on love and inclusion? Do we have to be right? A wise husband once said,
he could either be right or happy. Is our own self-righteousness getting in the
way of our happiness?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">In Matthew 18 verses 1 through 4, we
read:</span></p><blockquote>
<p class="verse" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="verse-number"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; padding: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></span></span><span class="verse-number" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">1 </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">…the disciples [came] unto Jesus, saying, Who is the <a data-scroll-id="note1a" href="https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/nt/matt/18?lang=eng#note1a" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in; text-decoration-line: none;">a</span></sup></i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in; text-decoration-line: none;">greatest</span></a> in
the kingdom of heaven?</span></p>
<p class="verse" data-aid="128396783" id="p2" style="--height: 69.3px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: normal; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><span class="verse-number"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; padding: 0in;">2 </span></span></span><span style="color: black;">And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst
of them,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="verse" data-aid="128396784" id="p3" style="--height: 98.1px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: normal; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><span class="verse-number"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; padding: 0in;">3 </span></span></span><span style="color: black;">And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and
become as little <a data-scroll-id="note3a" href="https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/nt/matt/18?lang=eng#note3a" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--text-link, var(--info40));"><i><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">a</span></sup></i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">children</span></a>,
ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="verse" data-aid="128396785" id="p4" style="--height: 69.3px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: normal; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><span class="verse-number"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; padding: 0in;">4 </span></span></span><span style="color: black;">Whosoever therefore shall <a data-scroll-id="note4a" href="https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/nt/matt/18?lang=eng#note4a" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--text-link, var(--info40));"><i><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">a</span></sup></i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">humble</span></a> himself
as this little <a data-scroll-id="note4b" href="https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/nt/matt/18?lang=eng#note4b" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--text-link, var(--info40));"><i><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">b</span></sup></i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">child</span></a>,
the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.</span></span></p></blockquote><p class="verse" data-aid="128396785" id="p4" style="--height: 69.3px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is it
that makes children humble? I think it’s their believing hearts. They trust
what we teach them. They’re the first to love and the first to forgive. They
realize that our connections to each other are what keeps us alive. As
toddlers, they jump in to help without being asked…until they make a mess and
we shoo them away. Unwittingly, we’re training them to believe that their help
is unwanted/unnecessary.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 1.25pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s be
inclusive and restore ourselves to the time when we were humble. When we were the
first to love and forgive. Let’s continue to build a strong and connected
community where everyone belongs with a spirit of love and compassion. People
aren’t meant for boxes. Boxes serve a short lived purpose and are then
discarded. We are meant to be free and to love and live happily. Let’s restore
our belief that the Divine lives within us. I believe in the God of Love.</span></p>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-58658317225750683172021-10-06T09:14:00.002-07:002021-10-06T09:58:28.395-07:00Brave. Bold. Fearless.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdacWMWUQc7bJlrDmeFghuRGxjGxYbsXtOKYpXWwlYiaX9vWr4r14A2B-vET-mi2tT_RCaqwblFWSrDleUIdxOqdAmM9fQY4kyl_WSE0a3CXEpOIOacAx1EefTwonkrK7Jwk0Rx0u328A/s1030/Saudi+Eyes+%25282%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="1030" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdacWMWUQc7bJlrDmeFghuRGxjGxYbsXtOKYpXWwlYiaX9vWr4r14A2B-vET-mi2tT_RCaqwblFWSrDleUIdxOqdAmM9fQY4kyl_WSE0a3CXEpOIOacAx1EefTwonkrK7Jwk0Rx0u328A/w400-h300/Saudi+Eyes+%25282%2529.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />In the past few weeks, I have had the privilege of working with 24 amazing women in Saudi Arabia and training them to become driving instructors. Just a few years ago, when Saudi women were able to get driver's licenses, these women learned how to drive. Some have been driving a year. Some two or three. All want to help their fellow women gain the independence that they have enjoyed since getting their licenses.<div><br /></div><div>There is so little traffic safety education expertise here, I really feel like I'm making a difference. I hope my students become amazing instructors. Driving skills can be taught. Connecting with others and having warm and friendly personalities isn't so easy. These future driving instructors have what it takes to succeed.<br /><p></p><p>The fatality rate from crashes in Saudi Arabia ranks one of the highest in the world. Most every Saudi citizen has a family member who has died in a car crash. Every one has that I've asked. They've lost siblings, spouses, children and parents. One woman told me that she hasn't lost any family members. Then she thought about it a little longer and realized that she lost a cousin several years ago due to getting off a bus, walking in the blind area in front of it, the driver not seeing and starting to go. Buses here don't have arms that extend when the bus stops to prevent children from walking in front of them.</p><p>Why is the fatality rate so high? I have observed the following: lack of seatbelt usage, especially for rear passengers. Lack of child safety seats. Distracted driving and phone use. Driving in the middle of lanes. Tailgating and aggressive driving. The checking of blind spots seems optional...okay almost non-existent. Failing to check to the rear when backing. Over reliance on mirrors. And probably the biggest issue is the distance from hospitals or emergency vehicles. There is so much land with next to nothing on it, I believe the time it would take EMS to arrive at the scene of a crash to adversely affect the survival rate. I don't know what the exact stats are. These are just some of my impressions.</p><p>Arabian culture amazes me with their hospitality. The people I meet want me to feel welcome here. I have come to love and care about all of the women I worked with. In our conversations, I've heard a few stories that usually would be kept hidden . . . but I'm an outsider who doesn't know anyone involved in their stories except the teller. So I've been considered safe. These conversations reminded me of being a missionary and hearing some of the deepest thoughts and feelings from the people I visited. Usually, very few people share those intimate thoughts. But if you ask, most people want to share. To connect. To bond over the human experience.</p><p>It's my hope that the culture here will develop life saving habits so that they can be spared the heartache of losing a loved one in a preventable collision.</p><p>Today we finished the last of our lessons. Tomorrow we administer the final driving exams. And the next day I'm headed home. I'm sad to be going. I'm happy to see my family after such a long trip.</p></div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-61273236150884424122021-09-25T09:50:00.000-07:002021-09-25T09:50:22.823-07:00New Friends and Fabulous Food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Meet Samah.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She's my new bestie. I only found out a few hours before she came that she was even coming. She did the theory training for the group of driving instructor trainees in the last group that trained about two months ago.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Samah came for the weekend and we've hung out Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Funny how I never would've predicted that she would come into my life, but she's such a delightful person. Truly. She's fun, smart and genuinely happy to be around. And she gave me a Saudi necklace as a welcome gift, so immediately she's won me over. 😜 </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVB0q2TG8UqxbfGVCSUT3Lp3vYqsUTwSQZ8MCId9hYAA3RUyCeN6DrsEVx2yLGyl0xJs-D-uZUmDpSBSGKaWiPEn5G35CJNGEeNlGqd7qmEV1_d28BQhJe8imnWXyRwJq4pTtSG3kI-eQ/s1600/1632584648821726-0.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVB0q2TG8UqxbfGVCSUT3Lp3vYqsUTwSQZ8MCId9hYAA3RUyCeN6DrsEVx2yLGyl0xJs-D-uZUmDpSBSGKaWiPEn5G35CJNGEeNlGqd7qmEV1_d28BQhJe8imnWXyRwJq4pTtSG3kI-eQ/w400-h299/1632584648821726-0.png" title="Ahmed, Samah, Bridget, Suliman" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lunch/dinner - Ahmed, Samah, Bridget, Suliman</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Thursday was the national holiday for Saudi Arabia. It's the day, 91 years ago, that the tribes were united into one country. There were flags all over the place saying </span><a href="https://www.vision2030.gov.sa/v2030/overview/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Vision 2030</a><span style="text-align: left;">. What's that you ask? This </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudi_Vision_2030" style="text-align: left;">wiki article</a><span style="text-align: left;"> gives some history and info but in short the Saudis are 5 years into a plan to move their country beyond oil, which comprises 30-40% of the country's GDP. So women driving was part of the goal. Also women and men will soon be working side by side. I've actually only seen men working in shops and restaurants. There are women in the outdoor markets. Actually there was one hostess in the restaurant we were in this afternoon and that was the first I've seen.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RHwH3h54ulLUID7dyPH_g3XEzMCuQEsUEykq77IqSmUPxsLNNWvHdRAtyOkJ8xdMMQskW3hsdkVJCGOBp8tKCnb8Kk_YSIM2LpoNH8WKYWL0GXJrcFFk05kS93bUPUomhYBRxtf1DcI/s1600/1632584608727908-5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RHwH3h54ulLUID7dyPH_g3XEzMCuQEsUEykq77IqSmUPxsLNNWvHdRAtyOkJ8xdMMQskW3hsdkVJCGOBp8tKCnb8Kk_YSIM2LpoNH8WKYWL0GXJrcFFk05kS93bUPUomhYBRxtf1DcI/w218-h400/1632584608727908-5.png" width="218" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Coffee (my hibiscus tea) and dessert after lunch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Another advancement is that they built movie theatres. A few years ago, I understand there weren't any. We went to a theatre on Thursday evening. They had pizza flavored popcorn, as well as caramel and butter flavors. I told Samah that I'd never heard of pizza flavored popcorn and she said she had it several times when she lived in the US on the East coast. Huh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Interestingly enough, we saw <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worth_(film)">Worth</a>, the movie about 9/11 victim's families. I'm surprised that this movie would be shown here considering that 15 of the 19 high jackers were Saudi. That tidbit isn't mentioned in the film. I would think that the censors would want to hide the film.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was a bit annoyed with the people in front of us and in back. They were chatting and playing with their phones (with music/noises). At one point, I couldn't stay quiet and asked the lady in back of me to please stop making noise. In English. I'm pretty sure she had no idea what I was saying but her daughter said something to her a few seconds later when her phone started making noises again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlto92k-abiU_90GKcGx5iz4VT7Kt-_6eIkDkRR1vlc0a5PBKdPTfpXAZPz_uhI_KKoJfoGPInGZVJQQtlVWP09byZH1NbGsyvhn2f65Aoqb5CQrvGrdjKCsTXe4myz_npV-Pl_fVSrI/s1600/1632584632262726-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlto92k-abiU_90GKcGx5iz4VT7Kt-_6eIkDkRR1vlc0a5PBKdPTfpXAZPz_uhI_KKoJfoGPInGZVJQQtlVWP09byZH1NbGsyvhn2f65Aoqb5CQrvGrdjKCsTXe4myz_npV-Pl_fVSrI/w400-h225/1632584632262726-3.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Friday we went out to lunch again. This time to an Indian restaurant. And that Butter Chicken! It was divine. I really should learn how to make that.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFrv0_fCzHxWZNHu6e2lmuoSibbfZLPjZY2f0DdF8lkE8lql2Qopat0LlyHFolAEpWAjihLycHarHZu-SDSWHA2SSdhRJfNw6T1s-MfFlxbTnVGlPF6nWGwLlcHYRUv4FUz-D3OAXRvw/s1600/1632584614237177-4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFrv0_fCzHxWZNHu6e2lmuoSibbfZLPjZY2f0DdF8lkE8lql2Qopat0LlyHFolAEpWAjihLycHarHZu-SDSWHA2SSdhRJfNw6T1s-MfFlxbTnVGlPF6nWGwLlcHYRUv4FUz-D3OAXRvw/w225-h400/1632584614237177-4.png" width="225" />
</a>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Samah needs coffee and dessert after every meal...so we got honey cake and saffron cake at this coffee shop. I've never considered saffron a flavor for anything sweet. It was pretty good in a saffrony sort of way. The flavor of the honey cake was better to me, but it was a bit dry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhoX_VwghF5vIPzjSmPUOseDhX2jIQlbDiF2PgM6Zs7s8fj3tOG_VuZc-iiqHLdQZKcWrAav8j4jdogsUTIGyZyqjUK5pSTEj8J9Rx0vRxwKkD2k5kbH57Y4nWSrPlVGJ71TcnatyfmQ/s1600/1632584644994183-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhoX_VwghF5vIPzjSmPUOseDhX2jIQlbDiF2PgM6Zs7s8fj3tOG_VuZc-iiqHLdQZKcWrAav8j4jdogsUTIGyZyqjUK5pSTEj8J9Rx0vRxwKkD2k5kbH57Y4nWSrPlVGJ71TcnatyfmQ/w218-h400/1632584644994183-1.png" width="218" /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">This afternoon we went to a Turkish restaurant. Like the others, it was delicious. And so pretty. I love how well presented the food is here. And I love that I'm eating so well. I might come home with a few extra pounds, but know that I'm fat and happy. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgez6gAut6ugTuB92vmKBRxKCwXB-1MjQm1MXwKHEYOYccECXPeXOhweh7C-WwFEJwliUJTeG2NDVNkJUixNeVq64ESMM5sZM_I4ye2p-PAWvnMQ4Mqvy0BuXVsWEGafLLM697sidi1_hI/w300-h400/1632584598001223-6.png" width="300" />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Clockwise: Bridget, Samah, Ahmed, Suliman, Sylvia</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakWDCHOQnaJ1iaIQJHg7p0_4_be0oq8gkKx_goUSlkNippkAogzjFIFwE-HBSs4_i3HdGtS8xzWfI_fc-sRG6M9zD3upknyBSoyw1y-RvIlLyizPqY2-VczE6j82tUl8ib7hLNZi3uqo/s1600/1632584638285117-2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakWDCHOQnaJ1iaIQJHg7p0_4_be0oq8gkKx_goUSlkNippkAogzjFIFwE-HBSs4_i3HdGtS8xzWfI_fc-sRG6M9zD3upknyBSoyw1y-RvIlLyizPqY2-VczE6j82tUl8ib7hLNZi3uqo/w640-h360/1632584638285117-2.png" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Samah is from Egypt but grew up near where I am staying right now. She invited me to her home here in KSA (on the coast) and also to Egypt. I think it would be awesome to go to Cairo to have an adventure with her. Tymon...start packing your bags. Let's go!</div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0Al Qassim Saudi Arabia26.207826 43.483738-2.1024078361788447 8.3274880000000024 54.51805983617885 78.639988tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-30338469644078377522021-09-23T01:43:00.001-07:002021-09-23T01:43:23.018-07:00Afternoon in Buraydah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">After class one of my students, Nora, took me to Buraydah, a neighboring city from where the school is. Her girls joined us while we were in the bird park. We got up close and intimate with several birds. The workers gave us bird seed to put in our hands so that the birds would come to us. It worked like a charm.</div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCballzU8bsKFlskEcKvIVXlmjlzuubsUbbfsTQTHYH8rNK7fkStcpNqDL0YT2YE_24pcbWQIymVDpGiPq0vP_DFu4DkhGCxmoA0xKgMT9zTM53n0neZ07Ftp18gL-RQAcSjUgfm_5IE4/s4032/20210922_163823.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCballzU8bsKFlskEcKvIVXlmjlzuubsUbbfsTQTHYH8rNK7fkStcpNqDL0YT2YE_24pcbWQIymVDpGiPq0vP_DFu4DkhGCxmoA0xKgMT9zTM53n0neZ07Ftp18gL-RQAcSjUgfm_5IE4/w180-h320/20210922_163823.jpg" width="180" /></a> </p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimh_g5BX_-2lleeZtQ9OtXx_OK79ObY8ATG6x4lIunqFA4II_QCJrk17NYG2RSrqXNJcvSPZRPu8_bIOE9ZrpUzxvh-_K5WMji6EYeP93CIMDyVRVY9-G3WpTSOgQf1PYgPJsK4FmW9g4/s4032/20210922_173224.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimh_g5BX_-2lleeZtQ9OtXx_OK79ObY8ATG6x4lIunqFA4II_QCJrk17NYG2RSrqXNJcvSPZRPu8_bIOE9ZrpUzxvh-_K5WMji6EYeP93CIMDyVRVY9-G3WpTSOgQf1PYgPJsK4FmW9g4/s320/20210922_173224.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Pro Tip: </b>Birds will land on your head regardless of there being seed in your hair or not. So unless you want to be doing the bird seed shake to get all the residual seed out, you might want to decline that gracious offer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlA8P4JM0KKCwf82Hzx4eadZNDK-voufsmvSqAUdsITDO9O7ebP8KwzI0bbb_MoTSN9MxHI9PGUhnFJedU4DLB-Fq_CCV45CzQOTrOUyUOgZvhNJ-NAbWlkE-r-Tsm9xCr-wtRzIyYBg/s4032/20210922_172136.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlA8P4JM0KKCwf82Hzx4eadZNDK-voufsmvSqAUdsITDO9O7ebP8KwzI0bbb_MoTSN9MxHI9PGUhnFJedU4DLB-Fq_CCV45CzQOTrOUyUOgZvhNJ-NAbWlkE-r-Tsm9xCr-wtRzIyYBg/s320/20210922_172136.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhme62vj7csJA8lcr21a0zFPYcw5ThGqZSTlyVfJeoNlmTKH-kZyZAs1OcKirg3plUMkdgVL3ceqm9nK6E8qTs1Pmz6hRn2D5m7wmJYfshyphenhyphenQRT8FdPZGdgvToze58e3M0UN5y1bHnDmLeA/s4032/20210922_172111.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhme62vj7csJA8lcr21a0zFPYcw5ThGqZSTlyVfJeoNlmTKH-kZyZAs1OcKirg3plUMkdgVL3ceqm9nK6E8qTs1Pmz6hRn2D5m7wmJYfshyphenhyphenQRT8FdPZGdgvToze58e3M0UN5y1bHnDmLeA/w180-h320/20210922_172111.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrGQ0_3KQykyVm0W9g54BU73WOnFPAJ9rmT68vdgkRtPN1ZsPS853GhsE8x8LCQKt6lAk_hOJrdZ7MF6qprkPueUv77dBvu1TN8Ac7Vdj6Cn6IEK7GsLl1D0e0SQaRPz0QXCuu2pvvB8/s4608/20210922_172207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="4608" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrGQ0_3KQykyVm0W9g54BU73WOnFPAJ9rmT68vdgkRtPN1ZsPS853GhsE8x8LCQKt6lAk_hOJrdZ7MF6qprkPueUv77dBvu1TN8Ac7Vdj6Cn6IEK7GsLl1D0e0SQaRPz0QXCuu2pvvB8/s320/20210922_172207.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once leaving the bird place, we went to a little leek farm. Well, that's the translation. We ate the greens, which were more like a sweeter green onion. They had a little roadside stand with the food that they grow there. It would've been super cool to actually buy some of this and prepare something fantastic. I'm still hoping for a cooking lesson at some point during my stay here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiavQitXm1Z04F_vGpX1OHWt_dYcOMrzaloCcBkj1Rkrzs-ANZdIqaYQ2KVsWFGQjWQm_IKpbhZrlcD31ocQJQA_fU17sSCrAcjwVNNio24dheFAo4EJX6mwL_N2DTvV72jW-xLf15NY-Y/s4032/20210922_175742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiavQitXm1Z04F_vGpX1OHWt_dYcOMrzaloCcBkj1Rkrzs-ANZdIqaYQ2KVsWFGQjWQm_IKpbhZrlcD31ocQJQA_fU17sSCrAcjwVNNio24dheFAo4EJX6mwL_N2DTvV72jW-xLf15NY-Y/s320/20210922_175742.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> Dates are famous in this region. And really good.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08rKIb4NsTfagwJ7IU8hxHnv7gGae4-Q9M-cMqYitEGOYGId3fciNCiP3Pp4Ldyj7zUfmM0sOR-n2-edDyM19tYNlwjzo_5dKTaLQOyocj8lmz01Gtu-AWnl5nd4COfC6uYBWYOAG9zg/s4032/20210922_175947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08rKIb4NsTfagwJ7IU8hxHnv7gGae4-Q9M-cMqYitEGOYGId3fciNCiP3Pp4Ldyj7zUfmM0sOR-n2-edDyM19tYNlwjzo_5dKTaLQOyocj8lmz01Gtu-AWnl5nd4COfC6uYBWYOAG9zg/s320/20210922_175947.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Roadside stand<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_ejNzdW-C4g-0WPMcROU0D4SObSyjBP31wMo_se8NgMenyKsL77-K7xETSSEKJKTB3XYXGAKulHTK6l96Jl0skZXKggz3pmfbNUip_iO0SxYZpxzJrl5XMWa4kmYhSsa0ygco4l42X4/s4032/20210922_180111.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_ejNzdW-C4g-0WPMcROU0D4SObSyjBP31wMo_se8NgMenyKsL77-K7xETSSEKJKTB3XYXGAKulHTK6l96Jl0skZXKggz3pmfbNUip_iO0SxYZpxzJrl5XMWa4kmYhSsa0ygco4l42X4/s320/20210922_180111.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2C0BllILqVVJLRQymFp_mBQ2Wd29Zh2WgRYvxksjDtiCaPXjUh8UbjK6a2qTCg1ttYGt24tjRlNLeIN2bzGHOrt-aaefRlFRHMAD6ed-wYVJNKp6_g1aTczt9qxQOFxttTS2MbBorqM/s4032/20210922_180057.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2C0BllILqVVJLRQymFp_mBQ2Wd29Zh2WgRYvxksjDtiCaPXjUh8UbjK6a2qTCg1ttYGt24tjRlNLeIN2bzGHOrt-aaefRlFRHMAD6ed-wYVJNKp6_g1aTczt9qxQOFxttTS2MbBorqM/s320/20210922_180057.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We went to the market and in a friend's shop, we got little necklaces.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1cG99oC6Yr_-Tk3usPpKlgoL0TW0EQJv7RQSS53Kovlr_HsP9hpWAO2lK9eFO_GnnBE4Q531wk0vPu5ill57RGqivHW_Gpee8rIkcOwqzFncADakcVsE9O5mjbzloKQklFJG_OZUCzc/s4032/20210922_184059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1cG99oC6Yr_-Tk3usPpKlgoL0TW0EQJv7RQSS53Kovlr_HsP9hpWAO2lK9eFO_GnnBE4Q531wk0vPu5ill57RGqivHW_Gpee8rIkcOwqzFncADakcVsE9O5mjbzloKQklFJG_OZUCzc/s320/20210922_184059.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe0dfjK7zqz0DHH2jwuaPTHNMZXwyHXEXfnQkeD9R8wv3vhiJjKqChcQZYU41HhoGhSYZZqUgsoH-m8sb4_MD5TzLH9-k_xl1mSZvYn8UcuKbNZFcJFDmxpvuGTeQ6iVaCiZm5ym5dXAc/s4032/20210922_184108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe0dfjK7zqz0DHH2jwuaPTHNMZXwyHXEXfnQkeD9R8wv3vhiJjKqChcQZYU41HhoGhSYZZqUgsoH-m8sb4_MD5TzLH9-k_xl1mSZvYn8UcuKbNZFcJFDmxpvuGTeQ6iVaCiZm5ym5dXAc/s320/20210922_184108.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then we went to dinner at an American/Italian place called Loft. They had silverware! I know you would probably expect that. But it's not super common here. People eat with their hands. If you don't want to do that then you get a flimsy plastic spoon. They usually give you a few in case you break one. Which you undoubtedly will.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Fm_jPxYEUelrmoTA_sVKvW8GPwElpxnW4sXYB5b9BZoInnqSArHq8ucEoycWkK3rtD23ED2Zu6TGqdc6OGNSDotbyo46KTo6ok5E8LPyicTBSYcBEYgj2An9X14e7EMYbWVXzkCvJV0/s4032/20210922_201437.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Fm_jPxYEUelrmoTA_sVKvW8GPwElpxnW4sXYB5b9BZoInnqSArHq8ucEoycWkK3rtD23ED2Zu6TGqdc6OGNSDotbyo46KTo6ok5E8LPyicTBSYcBEYgj2An9X14e7EMYbWVXzkCvJV0/s320/20210922_201437.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pro Tip</b>: If you travel in Saudi Arabia and want to eat traditional Saudi food, you may want to bring your own silverware.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_bMI2DNc8443NFQi0NI0Yt6iSqctjAvff1rte2Y7VHOH3uutY79hqzCol1zNp5mehxmsjQZPwLNae49S4UDUFuA3SXDRed4J5d-xjb-glcnRn810ftdOH6fV93PPPqJyk-_PdwdpD9sQ/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1599" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_bMI2DNc8443NFQi0NI0Yt6iSqctjAvff1rte2Y7VHOH3uutY79hqzCol1zNp5mehxmsjQZPwLNae49S4UDUFuA3SXDRed4J5d-xjb-glcnRn810ftdOH6fV93PPPqJyk-_PdwdpD9sQ/" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>I fell asleep in the car on the way back to my hotel. I haven't been sleeping much so have been depending on my afternoon nap. I ended up falling asleep almost immediately when getting back, though and sleeping almost to the morning call for prayers, about 4:30am. It's the most I've slept at one time in a few weeks, really. So all in all, a success. I hope this weekend will get my body fully on Saudi time so I won't be so tired next week.<br /><p></p></div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-14528146765332991132021-09-21T13:14:00.004-07:002021-09-21T13:14:36.213-07:00Lunch Date<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Nora asked me to lunch today. She wanted to show me Saudi food.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626;"> Which, for the record, is all I've eaten here. She said, "it's not burgers" to which I replied, "I didn't come here to eat burgers!" She introduced me to all of her friends by making a video on Snapchat. And a separate video for her dad who doesn't do social media.</span></span></p><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZx3TEncYDkGXlPtWpVSqvJy791iNi3WNLLaTHV4-uaT8T800y4cLiFZ4sm6sXmjxde1Xt60Pn4u3zEEL05eZwtHX5p67K5lGQeucUgPfzyFboP6zQ0fBdyWByx8-GOiOc_Fylkf8Qlrw/s3216/20210921_124558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3216" data-original-width="1808" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZx3TEncYDkGXlPtWpVSqvJy791iNi3WNLLaTHV4-uaT8T800y4cLiFZ4sm6sXmjxde1Xt60Pn4u3zEEL05eZwtHX5p67K5lGQeucUgPfzyFboP6zQ0fBdyWByx8-GOiOc_Fylkf8Qlrw/w225-h400/20210921_124558.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>When we got to the restaurant to get lunch, it was closed for prayers. Once it opened, after maybe 10 minutes, the place filled up with like a dozen people. They were all waiting in their cars with the air conditioner going. It's over 100 degrees today.</span></span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626;">We got take out and ate quite a few Saudi dishes. Most I hadn't tried before. I was like, what? This is a lot of food. Nora said, well, I didn't know what you'd like so I got a lot!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626;">We ate gursan, jareesh, chicken biryani, tabbouleh, and yogurt with cucumber. And to top it off, Nora picked me up an extra one to have tonight. The ladies were teasing me about being so skinny yesterday. Sending me to my hotel room with extra food is evidence that they're trying to fatten me up. Good thing I don't have a scale here. 😅</span></span><br /></div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-64798547252105959612021-09-20T12:19:00.001-07:002021-09-21T12:26:05.807-07:00Elimination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0oaWl9hI6ibjO5bWVcGDFqyKqzsFueRfEwEWRDbIR845CiuayDWN-4Qbk0_XG4fNP8z-Xg4JuaMwKtSnHjF_vBmynTJVlLdm13kJ1F-8gLxHUZBjaVCP6lgh1espa_YtiV2CLnUo2ls/s1600/1632162777324471-0.png">
</a>This is my elimination post. Of the regular garden variety type for all those with burning curiosity about toilets in the KSA.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><br /></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0oaWl9hI6ibjO5bWVcGDFqyKqzsFueRfEwEWRDbIR845CiuayDWN-4Qbk0_XG4fNP8z-Xg4JuaMwKtSnHjF_vBmynTJVlLdm13kJ1F-8gLxHUZBjaVCP6lgh1espa_YtiV2CLnUo2ls/s1600/1632162777324471-0.png" width="400" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0oaWl9hI6ibjO5bWVcGDFqyKqzsFueRfEwEWRDbIR845CiuayDWN-4Qbk0_XG4fNP8z-Xg4JuaMwKtSnHjF_vBmynTJVlLdm13kJ1F-8gLxHUZBjaVCP6lgh1espa_YtiV2CLnUo2ls/s1600/1632162777324471-0.png">
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My private commode for the next 3 weeks. It's in my hotel room. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzCosB-X6ZQylUKoXNp78zEW9snw-PnLM821lkYs2uZshtF7_B5vHfHGowbk43vYycE2RY1vu2B2D2haRHMYuEjV-XIyGbNc6w3pGB9Jqei2AJhWWYEJHQi19BqPzhCcDhKYi2xkZ390/s1600/1632162770874287-1.png" width="400" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzCosB-X6ZQylUKoXNp78zEW9snw-PnLM821lkYs2uZshtF7_B5vHfHGowbk43vYycE2RY1vu2B2D2haRHMYuEjV-XIyGbNc6w3pGB9Jqei2AJhWWYEJHQi19BqPzhCcDhKYi2xkZ390/s1600/1632162770874287-1.png">
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The hotel room toilet I had in Riyadh when I spent the night there after flying in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgir0F0UDotDsj5XKMfyxCTQ7bEBpgy9eMSKVa6GaqwyAPfmeUp2MigaonZVPmlkYKLLLZHU3Nopc5aUUcYfWzHdqENhvJR8lweyyzVa504fNcGov5fxJCM0DkuKmU6jeiEHS4PhXIt8/s1600/1632162762265173-2.png" width="400" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgir0F0UDotDsj5XKMfyxCTQ7bEBpgy9eMSKVa6GaqwyAPfmeUp2MigaonZVPmlkYKLLLZHU3Nopc5aUUcYfWzHdqENhvJR8lweyyzVa504fNcGov5fxJCM0DkuKmU6jeiEHS4PhXIt8/s1600/1632162762265173-2.png">
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The rest stop toilet I used on the way to Al Bukayriyah from Riyadh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The toilet in the driving school I'm working at in Bukayriyah.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Okay, so let's get down to business. You may notice that the hotel toilets are sitters. And regular toilets are squatters. I haven't been to the men's room, so I'm not sure what they have. The driving school I'm working at has a sitter, in addition to the squatters. It's found in the handicapable stall. I'll just let that sit with you for a moment. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So from what has been explained to me (I have never watched anyone else's toileting practices) toilet paper isn't used in the way that North Americans use it. I wonder if covid sent the Saudis to the store to stockpile toilet paper like it did the Americans. Somehow, I doubt it. But alas I digress. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maybe you noticed a spray nozzle next to the toilet in all of these photos? It's used like a bidet, but much less bulky. So the word on the street is that you spray your conduits of elimination after you are done. Then use the toilet paper to pat yourself dry. Then put the paper in the trash. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">TMI: this sprayer nozzle has been amazing during my menstrual cycle. Leaves me feeling fresh all day long. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'll admit sometimes I forget and put toilet paper in the toilet. But that hasn't caused any issues for me yet. And I haven't seen the restroom closed for repairs. So that's a good sign, I think. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Pro-Tip</b>: when using the nozzle, make sure it's pointed in the right direction. If you aren't careful you can spray your pants. If you spray your pants, it's not a big deal. Just a little uncomfortable. But it's over 100 degrees outside so walk out there for 5 minutes and you're good to go. No worries about big wet marks, either. Because your abaya hides everything. </div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-32487699668397597372021-09-18T12:06:00.003-07:002021-09-18T12:14:04.282-07:00Tastes Like Chicken<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My welcome to Saudi Arabia includes this awesome water garden in the passport control and customs area.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBe3u8bfKmxYj2HNNLDGNENLT_xCRROqiDrlDTwPmTt0XdgnL0zr9avEqJMNeK9-pQ3BPSyo12liTVHSrR4XKnZh9TG2GhLvLZf4Eirk1B7jdV6cWOvMM3cEBs09ESnjqVCwlKBoD40bw/s4032/20210917_190123.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBe3u8bfKmxYj2HNNLDGNENLT_xCRROqiDrlDTwPmTt0XdgnL0zr9avEqJMNeK9-pQ3BPSyo12liTVHSrR4XKnZh9TG2GhLvLZf4Eirk1B7jdV6cWOvMM3cEBs09ESnjqVCwlKBoD40bw/s320/20210917_190123.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="text-align: center;">I met 2 members of my team and we went to dinner at a little hole in the wall place around the corner from our hotel. I got chicken maqluba, which was awesome...</span><p></p><p><span style="text-align: center;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9muAheQDT0kGWFEbkHMiWEmPz-ieZ4fGCo6N1v3XhSSrf6Uk2qsPF5e57hyidXKIZxJThi0LS0M8IitQO-7kxD0CblyoLN2BV_EZn-uOQUM8Y0bTRiqVy18hs32MYkJDuN0R3-k_n7zk/w180-h320/1631991980121800-0.png" width="180" />
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</span></div><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="text-align: center;">...though not as awesome as the maqluba that one of my driving instructors at Defensive made me and the rest of the office back in March. I mean that was sooo extra.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBB8mPIabs7fIkdlwGurelw2gUqAUcIVx4jFmdm771mw16nuLVc9tXLill7dw46Z9gmHaoBEVD2SjfskIy2Pa5pyP2d3pqGSyYKo8d_6qC2xJiCt6vgX9B5By3Ul1ewF4fXjXUnNM3gA/s1440/IMG_20210304_172823_279.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBB8mPIabs7fIkdlwGurelw2gUqAUcIVx4jFmdm771mw16nuLVc9tXLill7dw46Z9gmHaoBEVD2SjfskIy2Pa5pyP2d3pqGSyYKo8d_6qC2xJiCt6vgX9B5By3Ul1ewF4fXjXUnNM3gA/s320/IMG_20210304_172823_279.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We drove a few hours this afternoon into the desert to where our training group will be.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkybGbri3gOUgHZqBXO8QxyXrVkTiMMpqJ-gqWAO4hQvdX7KMJcsWTKEyKQF3KRH2T9V7bM96jaP4GoL9pgC0yxCLd1x5Xlu7290OEWckiNA006VwAUNjCP6kmzXW4kyJVSgowrmZ4XcY/s1600/1631991975393180-1.png" width="400" />
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</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We made a pit stop for a toilet and some ginger mint tea. The rest area has a mosque and a ladies prayer room since they don't pray with the men. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeg9NEyhCK0W0hQVXBZEnjSTlBuKeiUxsdvBCeWPf-f9HN1z61FPw5AA-vopyooBGlVMiflk0_uYX_ImRYalZW_kpHRmWJ8n7VTKjcLYKWVirZmP7_yrwg8yPixMwcW_xsnDy1AmcYM8/w180-h320/1631991969836581-2.png" width="180" />
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</div>mosque</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjad2FhioIW6nCGsXhxeH72CJsbzm2QMuLso2q2GZHp-X5noMamVZHc8WZ0sqqjdZi_pkRkdORrDXq96ZzoEXu0u-b0NbDc4MXTyyK3WCypqfLGke_ItKm1cS2utaYgpz9SFYlpNC_d25Y/w180-h320/1631991961277850-3.png" width="180" />
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</div>restroom</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_dBJo43vp9B9u86LZkgoa916m3QtGxQVV8Qrt_IiuUk2cQX6MsWoQuPkZnMj7Qwu9OOJkfL4UtrcR-g0owfVHv2t96h_-ThhwHYZwBYIXZy-VTqzM0ONF1TsYzAFFyp_rcPdRXAMp90/w180-h320/1631991956490212-4.png" width="180" />
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</div>toilet stall</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-D3p4HndS7uCMNuY4eiR-ujFOX5POJRyX3VXuPrmBEMYdb2wnvxech3ABMdC-b9P-n-N1pKPS8Z6LIbyZA43jvg4KP0mXb_saY-KrIW1KnmcGFGOePcz7j4OnFST5mCWsT85S_txRIs/w180-h320/1631991951761064-5.png" width="180" />
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</div>women's prayer room</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After arriving at our hotel, we checked out the driving school. It's large compared to American schools but small compared to Saudi schools. There's a driving range in it. Drivers here with a learner's permit aren't allowed on public streets. They have to get a license first. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUYw6s3fU-EMgy6_z5bCNrLXhgF2kZCmPZJfnrerLgN-lxGLolDa2x9Zezgi1jdCIY9NbMKIjMGrh8PlnH1UknyIJ2ayJTl0qkggQnUybeD4g1s1w3w_WX3VKJrSdDkTkFptL_t7i3ag/w320-h180/1631991946300151-6.png" width="320" />
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</div><br /></div>I went to open the wrong door at dinner tonight. The main entrance is for men. The side entrance is for women who wear the full burqa with only their eyes showing. There's a hallway with little dining rooms, where people sit on the floor, remove their facial coverings and eat. <p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYzi5Gx8CnHMjWW0gqk7DkEDN5FyzgOzvOhlGeyPL8_i57503hg3kUZpV-jXVHa0iNi4nEYM7yZLqYGy93lj5oulZxCML5q3Flp45cecAf19D_SdRuAbKE70WqEpVEDLoVJaf5iuEHVwQ/w180-h320/1631991938840812-7.png" width="180" />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">hall of dining rooms</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisk3Hmr__gBCbiZF5d1VXQtT0JPBECZL5oBmmfyneW7fafTbgBraFiZfThP_t4ICG45UicCPMW9blgN2ZZa9F1FgvWanP1ALv_s9_K_la-692SaSdysRaXdbXOh4t3D2PCYni37rSTyfw/w320-h180/1631991933670634-8.png" width="320" />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">dining room</div></div><div><br /></div><div>In the dining rooms, the server puts out a plastic sheet like a table cloth, which is about 3 or 4 feet squared. Then they put a 2 foot in diameter platter in the middle. Everyone eats off the same plate. With their hands. Thus far we've been using plastic spoons or forks. They're pretty flimsy, though. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight I ate camel. It was very good. Tastes like chicken! Just kidding. It was more like beef. But more tender. Delicious!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBjn23OYP8TIF7vrONNK_c_8n-qFBhBentOTFd1dxU4LJ8cuXLP1yuVaRInm0tPV1qTXGckuL_vOGUKk6xZMQmDrpTOx7Lsq6qqqBlnzWYXdzGVXMfsMeZFRB8dpShVSD94dlF6PL4X2Y/s1600/1631991927815280-9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBjn23OYP8TIF7vrONNK_c_8n-qFBhBentOTFd1dxU4LJ8cuXLP1yuVaRInm0tPV1qTXGckuL_vOGUKk6xZMQmDrpTOx7Lsq6qqqBlnzWYXdzGVXMfsMeZFRB8dpShVSD94dlF6PL4X2Y/w320-h180/1631991927815280-9.png" width="320" />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">camel and rice dish</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGSpbVGy02Q8ZzDmnmknDhDKSx5t363CEeJNWTgWIk2MYYy74tuW8YYmT3KCShyphenhyphenjwv8xqot_CHp99X59x2dk-pVHOFEzbC5eJwUjBfanUEhXIGZV9NSKjJeWQtKSEHwqXi0opzbu56-8/s1600/1631991921423561-10.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGSpbVGy02Q8ZzDmnmknDhDKSx5t363CEeJNWTgWIk2MYYy74tuW8YYmT3KCShyphenhyphenjwv8xqot_CHp99X59x2dk-pVHOFEzbC5eJwUjBfanUEhXIGZV9NSKjJeWQtKSEHwqXi0opzbu56-8/w180-h320/1631991921423561-10.png" width="180" />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">camel texture</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDTgdAoAs8N-jhk0jAYVJwa0vIYrYVvGxczXnBTbeT7zp6KigR6oCXCRUlDOumTai3Eh_BdJdZpl9PUz14FOkdzfSQbKgs7lwV1APKTaVBFuQEncZTo7JRXeE_C9CXVjxxXccgp7D1oQ/s1600/1631991915474491-11.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDTgdAoAs8N-jhk0jAYVJwa0vIYrYVvGxczXnBTbeT7zp6KigR6oCXCRUlDOumTai3Eh_BdJdZpl9PUz14FOkdzfSQbKgs7lwV1APKTaVBFuQEncZTo7JRXeE_C9CXVjxxXccgp7D1oQ/w180-h320/1631991915474491-11.png" width="180" />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">black lemon - roasted in oven, only take small bites to mix with your food. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>And for the last photo before I fall asleep, here's Domino's and a Dunkin' donuts. There are also McDonalds' all over. I saw a Krispy Kreme in Riyadh and I've seen a Burger King. There's also a Baskin Robbin's within walking distance to our hotel. I have to admit, though, that tasty camel was way better than any of these chain restaurants. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFacXurF9eLhFEEEMKXG7UCAMuPeBt2exqe0npN_qDVhAJOa9-R6lsKbJbjaBIWDidpbl4iO1A6Rw-9XSIL9coacfnFOkddENhXHQmyxsHm2pPj1ptlKtRyjg3CXInsH9WavYlX0JUcgU/w320-h180/1631991909558072-12.png" width="320" />
</a>
</div><br /></div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-17903374168445134342021-09-16T08:25:00.001-07:002021-09-16T08:25:23.309-07:00PSA: KSA AdventureI'm headed to the airport in a few hours. Still trying to figure out what to pack. Knowing that I'll be sore after 16 hours of flying and 5 or 6 hours in airports. So I've got a foot and neck massager with me.<div><br></div><div>I'm headed to Riyadh in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to train female driving instructors. I'm excited to help build the instructor infrastructure that's needed to empower women, who were granted the right to drive about 4 years ago. For a brief history on women driving in Saudi Arabia, please see this <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Women_to_drive_movement">wiki article</a>. <br></div><div><br></div><div>Sometimes, when I'm frustrated with the covid backlog and the need for more instructors at my own driving school, I think of the women in KSA who have been waiting for the past 4 years to learn as well as all those who have been banned from driving since 1957. I cannot fathom the reality of that backlog. I'm sure my perspective will shift in the upcoming weeks as I gain insight from working directly with some courageous women. </div><div><br></div><div>I will be posting more about my adventures here over the next few weeks. And a shout out to my friend Jaqui, who added pockets to a couple abayas (women's robe) that I bought for the trip. Adding pockets to women's clothing empowers women. Even in America. 😘 Thank you!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></div>Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-33555127697751470682019-10-05T16:45:00.001-07:002019-10-05T16:47:18.416-07:00Jesus Said Love Everyone<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Last week, I spoke in church. Here's the text.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">9/29/19</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Like Christ’s final
week in Jerusalem, I have a holy week. It starts on a Tuesday morning, September
23, 2008. My youngest son Evan wasn’t breathing. A team of doctors and nurses diligently
tried to revive him without success. Wednesday we went to the funeral home and
cemetery. Friday our friends and families gathered. Saturday we buried him.
Most of our out of town guests left Sunday. Monday afternoon, my daughter Jocelyn
was born.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Today is the 11<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of that Monday. It’s not exactly a resurrection since we’re talking
about two separate people. But my rainbow baby coming less than a week after
the greatest loss I’ve ever felt brought a needed light to my life. And gave me
a reason to get out of bed in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Before Evan passed
away, I thought I believed in the resurrection. I thought I believed in heaven.
I thought that I wanted to connect with my heavenly parents again. Up until
that point, my faith in the resurrection was un-tested. I didn’t realize how
abstract the concept of heavenly parents were until this point in my life. I
had no idea if I really wanted to go to heaven. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The only clear feeling
I had was intense longing to hold my son again. With time, that feeling has
turned into a dull ache, which ebbs and flows but never fully subsides. Compounding
my grief, in the last two and a half years both of my parents have passed away.
Sometimes, I have a question for them and it takes me a moment to realize that
they died and I need to be okay with not knowing the answer I was seeking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I hope for the
resurrection. I hope for life beyond the grave. I really want the atonement to
be a genuine thing that connects us to heaven. But I don’t know. None of us do.
So, I’ve made a choice to be at peace with the unknown. And believe in a power
greater than me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Oft times, when we talk
about the atonement in scriptures or conference, we speak about it in a
transactional sense. Because of the Fall, Adam and Eve were separated from God
and cast out of the garden. When we sin, we are also separated from God. God
demands justice and a payment for that sin. Jesus’s love for us and willingness
to sacrifice his sin-free life bridges the connection back to heaven. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In the scriptures, Jesus
spoke about the atonement with another perspective. Not in the transactional
nor futuristic sense. He taught us to be AT ONE with the divine just like he is
one with the father. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The atonement is
something to strive for in the present tense. Right now. The teachings of
Christ connects us to the ONE. They teach us HOW we are to be ONE with each
other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Jesus’ life was full of
acts of service to those around him. He healed, showed compassion and served others.
He taught us in John 14:15 that <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“If
you love me, keep my commandments”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And again in John 15:
10: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">If
ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my
Father’s commandments, and abide in his love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So what are the
commandments Jesus taught us? He listed the commandments in 1<sup>st</sup> John
3:23 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“
we should believe on the name of Jesus Christ and love one another”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The prophet Moses
taught us in the 10 commandments that we are to love God and love one another.
The prophet Alma taught at the waters of Mormon that we must mourn with those
who mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">To be AT ONE and
connected to the divine, we must love each other.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What is love? In 1<sup>st</sup>
Corinthians 13:4-6, we find out that:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Love
is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud.
It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking or easily angered. It keeps
NO record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil BUT rejoices with the truth.
It always trusts. Always protects. Always hopes. Always perseveres. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">If we want to be
connected to heaven, we must love others. Even if we don’t agree with them.
Even if it’s challenging. We are called to love in the here and now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A few years ago, we
went to my husband’s 20 year reunion in Montana where he went to school in 9<sup>th</sup>
grade. It was a small town and the class had less than 50 students in it. About
40 people (classmates and families) came to the reunion, which was held at the
class bully’s home. He lived fairly close to the school and had a great yard
and put on a fantastic barbecue. Comparing his current self to a couple stories
Tymon told me about him, it was hard to believe they were about this same guy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Rather than holding
grudges about past wrongs, his former classmates showed him grace. They
accepted him and his growth as a person. Not only that, but they enjoyed one
another’s company. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It’s similar to the
story Les Miserables. Tymon and his classmates could have been like Inspector
Javert who treated Jean Valjean like a thief and a criminal since he stole a
loaf of bread when he was young. But they behaved more like the Bishop who gave
Valjean the silverware that he stole. This act of grace allowed Valjean to
become a repentant man who grew into a respectable member of the community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When we forgive and
allow others to move forward, we show love for one another and become one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In contrast, when I
worked with the young women 15 years ago, I had a girl in my class who didn’t
come to church. I asked her about it and she said she didn’t want to come
because a girl in the neighboring ward where she used to live was stuck up,
cliquish, and had said several mean girl type things to her. So she didn’t want
to come to activities on the off-chance that she’d run into her. It saddens me
that these interactions took place. Especially in the church where we should be
practicing Christ-like love. I respect those who want to feel welcome and a
sense of belonging at church and for setting boundaries around their emotional
well-being when it’s not working. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I still keep in contact
with this young woman who is now a young mother. I do not know if she has been
able to forgive her bully but I do know that she has found a church where she
feels welcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of us can think of
things we did in our past that we’re embarrassed about and that we have grown
from. We can find peace today by letting go of past hurts. This will help us to
be ONE with ourselves and show grace toward others and their own growth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I look at myself like
the older brother in the parable of the Prodigal son. The older brother is the
one who stays home and works with his father while his younger brother shirks
his responsibilities, takes his inheritance and runs off to live riotously. In
my mind, this is me with regard to my activity in the church. I never got into
trouble growing up, went to church, prayed every day and read my scriptures. I
went on a mission and got married in the temple. I checked off every list that
there was. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">There’s an expectation that those who follow the commandments won’t
have problems. I mean, I</span><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> know that no one is immune from problems, but in the
back of my mind, I thought that they wouldn’t be very serious. I lost my
grandparents and my favorite uncle when I was 14. But they were older than me. And everyone
has to die. Evan’s death at 15 months of age shook me. Hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Over the past two
years, my family’s faith crisis and loss of trust in the institutional church have
once again forced me to examine my own beliefs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What does it mean to
love and to be one as a part of a mixed faith marriage and mixed faith family? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Love is patient. Love
is kind. Love does not dishonor others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I show my love within
my family by honoring their faith journeys. They don’t have to attend church
with me. They don’t have to share my views of the divine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Instead of our
traditional family prayers, we’ve altered what we do to include everyone. If a
family member wants to say a blessing on the food, they can. They can pray to
God or the Universe. If they are agnostic, they can simply express gratitude
for a few of our blessings. It seems to work, though in the beginning it was
awkward. We still have many more kinks to iron out, but regardless of belief,
my children know I love them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Not all families are
like mine. Some distance themselves from children, siblings or parents who have
a change in faith, habits or identify as LGBTQ+. Some disown their family
members. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I think most of our
families are similar to mine in that we have members who have either mentally
or physically left the church. </span><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">So, how do we connect
with them and trust them in their faith journeys?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Occasionally, when we
tell someone that we’re praying for them, we come across as insincere or as if
we think we’re better than them. Sometimes, they ask for prayers and that’s
fine. But if they feel like we’re judging them or that we’re not willing to
help solve a problem aside from offering a prayer then we show we’re not really
invested in the situation or relationship. Our pious prayer can serve to build
a wall between us. Remember the prayer tower at Ramiumptum where the people
prayed for those who weren’t as blessed at themselves. We should use our
prayers to build connection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When my husband left
the church, there were many friends and family members that approached him.
Some had never spoken about testimony to him previously. Those conversations
were awkward. The conversations that went well were ones where the bonds of
trust had been forged previously. Where there was love regardless of the
outcome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Connecting and being AT
ONE with someone on a spiritual level looks a lot like asking for their
thoughts and opinions. Asking questions and clarifications. Seeking to
understand. Sharing your thoughts and accepting a differing point of view. Not
everyone has to agree with you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">If you want to have
spiritual conversations with someone, you should show your interest at various
times in their life starting now. Don’t wait until there’s been a change in their
outward behavior. People can feel whether you’re being authentic or fake.
Relationships take time to build. When they’re strong, they can withstand many
challenges.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When we judge the
actions of others, we separate ourselves from them. This actively works against
the atonement. Sometimes in traffic a car will cut us off. There are two
techniques drivers can employ to reduce the amount of stress on the road. First
is to drive with a large space cushion around your vehicle. Then if someone
needs to get into your lane, you won’t feel like they stole your space. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And second, it helps to
give other drivers the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, they are from out of town
and don’t know the roads very well. Maybe they are having a legitimate medical
emergency. Or… and this happens frequently in my line of work, they are a
student driver and have not developed proper vision habits. Any one of these
scenarios help us to put ourselves in the position of the other driver and give
them grace. That grace is love and connects us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In church sometimes, we
judge others when we don’t know their stories. We usually do this with outward
behavior. Maybe they drink coffee, smoke or have an occasional drink. Maybe
they don’t like going to the temple or don’t wear garments 24/7. It doesn’t
matter why someone chose to do something that you think is wrong. It’s their
story and not yours to take ownership of. Maybe coffee has fewer side effects
than an alternative prescription drug. Perhaps, they’re reducing their addictions
or are the designated driver for the night. Maybe they get chronic rashes with
garments. You don’t know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The very act of judging
someone builds the wall between you even higher and prevents you from forming
positive relationships with each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 66.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: -7.5pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jesus said love ev’ryone;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 66.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: -7.5pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Treat them kindly too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 66.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: -7.5pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When your heart is filled with love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 66.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: -7.5pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Others will love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The atonement is the
opposite of separation. It is that which connects us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Connection with others,
connection with ourselves and connection with the divine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I leave these thoughts
with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-73044710509448136632017-06-10T19:53:00.000-07:002017-06-10T19:53:04.937-07:00Festa Junina and Golden Birthday PartyIt occurs to me that if I don't blog about our remaining days in Brazil, I probably never will. So, how about starting with today? Well, because actually I was asked to teach the English primary class in church tomorrow, so I'm procrastinating doing that. Ha ha.<br />
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June 10, 2017 - Evan's Golden Birthday. The kids had a festival at school called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festa_Junina" target="_blank">Festa Junina</a>, which Jett, Jocelyn and Kira danced in. Outside the school, the road is blocked off and there are vendors selling food and doing carnival games. It's a great festival and since we only live a block away from school, we don't need to find parking and after the performance and lunch, Tymon and I took a nap. The kids came home and then went back to the school. I'm going to miss living so close to the school.<br />
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We had a little situation this morning...Jett didn't want to get dressed or go to the party. He pulled the same stunt last year and we made him go and it was pretty much the best day of his life. He just ran around with his friends after his dance. This year, the problem was he had to dance with a girl. The sky fell. He changed his attitude once we arrived and had an awesome day. Two lessons. #1 It's possible to change your attitude mid-day. #2 When mom says you're going to love something, you probably will. Unless it's black-eyed peas. Then all bets are off.</div>
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We went out to dinner tonight at <strike>Evan's</strike> my favorite restaurant here. It's an Arab one and the chef is from Lebanon but has been in Sao Paulo for maybe 20 years. I can't remember what he said. I love his filet mignon with roasted vegetables and this rice dish that has almonds, chicken and ground beef in it. It's delicious. So is the tabbouleh. We tried the moussaka tonight. It was good. But Jovana made it better...probably because she didn't use eggplant. Ha ha. And she made us our first one, so that gives her extra points.<br />
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My brother posted a photo today of him and some of our Canadian driving school friends at a baseball game.<br />
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A family friend thought that the woman was my mom and posted this:</div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6f7f9; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Okay I am a total crap mush head tool today...</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I saw for a brief second...the grey white hair of your friend...</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6f7f9; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and took a freaking double take...like </span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Oh Look Pat got to go with JC..." how awesome...</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wait...</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then I was like...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wait... </span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">what the heck is wrong with me?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Totally made me tear up.</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I hate that.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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I lost it. Because I've never looked at Joan (lady waving) like she could be my mom. But here with her hair and smile, she could have been. And while I've come to peace with Evan's death, I've not done the same with my mom's. My mom has been a constant in my life. It still feels like she's at home. Except she's not. My oldest is living with my dad. Keeping him company. We've entered into a new phase of our lives and while I think there will be some great great times ahead, I can't help but mourn for what could have been.</div>
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Here's Graeden with our long time friends Amber and Ammon. Amber used to watch my boys every week when I was working. Evan will always hold a special place in their hearts. </div>
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Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-19350842518026413572017-02-26T20:33:00.001-08:002017-02-26T20:33:19.324-08:00Carnaval in the Sambadrome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some of our American friends here in Sao Paulo joined a Samba club and danced in the competition parade Friday night. The costumes were so over the top impressive, the floats incredible and the infectious beat of the drums propelled everyone to movement.</div>
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Here we are with them and some of the other costumes around us . . .</div>
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The parade started a touch after 11pm and 7 Samba schools participate each night for 3 nights. They each get an hour. Yes, that makes for a VERY late night. Thankfully, our friends were the second school to go. We ended up getting home just before 3 am.</div>
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There are approximately 3000 dancers in each school and each one had about 5 floats. I suppose that makes 63,000 dancers/costumes and 105 floats in total for the 3 nights. The winning school will dance again on Fat Tuesday. I've actually never experienced such flawless organization and execution in Brazil since I've been here. Lots of things seem fairly haphazard. But not this. This, my friends, was a logistical nightmare yet they pulled it off beautifully.</div>
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The first float we saw had marionette "puppets" dancing. They're not puppets but really dancers with ribbons connecting them to sticks on giant hands. Incredible. My mom would've loved it. And I kinda really hope she can look in on this type of stuff...because if she lived here, I'm pretty sure she'd be on whatever costuming and float committees she could find.<br />
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The Sambadrome is a stadium for parades. Like it's a narrow lane with bleachers on either side. I understand it fits 30,000 people. As the night got later, more people came. Some who'd already performed with earlier groups. And there were thousands outside the gates.</div>
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What I didn't understand until we came was why a parade wouldn't be on the regular street. Why this special stadium? Well, these floats are amazing. In Portuguese, they're called carro alegórico (allegorical cars). Each one has a theme and tells a story. I'd love to know which stories, but I'm not up on my Brazilian folklore. But I digress. The floats are big. Like probably 30-50 feet tall. Most had at least 50 different dancers on them. They quite simply wouldn't fit with telephone wires on a regular street. That would be a disaster.</div>
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In fact, on the way home we saw a disaster. Traffic was slow, which is weird in the middle of the night...but hey, Sao Paulo has many surprises. One slowdown was for a float trying to go under an overpass on the freeway. The driver slowed down to a crawl to make sure he could fit. </div>
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Another looked like it hopped a curb trying to exit said freeway. And yet another looked like maybe it had been trying to turn a corner and there were pieces of this float in the road with half a dozen people trying to help. Poor float. And poor creators who were probably frantically trying to put it back together for it's time in the spotlight.</div>
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This fun pink lady had trapeze artists hanging off the back of it. So, uh, yeah. This is what I mean when I say the floats are over the top. I mean seriously. Brazil is schooling the world on how to do floats. Go big or go home. Not really. Go big or come to Brazil. That's the message, alright.</div>
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On the back of each float there were maybe 20 guys pushing it along. I'm not sure if there were any motorized sections, but it didn't appeared to be.</div>
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Pretty much I loved this warrior princess fighting her dragon. Look at her feathers. Amazing. I wonder how many birds had to die for this celebration...actually, I wonder if they are real or fake. I didn't play with any so I'm not entirely sure.</div>
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There weren't any topless girls, which everyone at church was worried about. I thought the same...until I saw my friend's costume. Then I started thinking maybe this would be an okay activity. The only sketchy thing is that they had condoms by the basket full and were handing them out. To everyone. Because everyone has sex at a parade???<br />
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There were cleaning crews after each school performed. I loved this garbage can/vacuum. And the only street sweepers I've ever seen in Brazil happened to be here at the parade.<br />
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I'm grateful for the opportunity we had to experience Carnaval in Brazil. It's such an incredible cultural celebration. One that I highly recommend. But more the clean version and less the wearing of nothing but body paint and drinking all night long and not knowing who exactly you slept with. The latter is self destructive. The former is glorious.<br />
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And our beautiful children watched Netflix and put themselves to bed. They let us sleep until almost noon and brought us breakfast in bed. Well, granola and milk in bed. But still. It's been a really long time since we stayed out late like this. And no, I'm not including our night-flights to/from Brazil in the same staying out late category. Ha ha.Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-2533534409610222102017-02-09T10:46:00.002-08:002019-10-05T16:52:16.210-07:00What A Difference A Week MakesSo, the surprise visit...we were busy. My sister helped my dad with paying bills and scanning photos. I helped my mom with wound care. I watched the home health nurse. And I helped with dressing her diabetic ulcers and sores. I wasn't happy with the nurse. The sores stunk.<br />
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The nurse didn't seem too concerned. But I've smelt that smell before with Jocelyn and her rotting dog bite. Jocelyn's wound was debrided or cleaned out. So I started making some noise. First with questions. Then more when the supervising nurse visited. We started making calls. Discussing the ER. And the fact that they were still fighting the insurance company for an ER visit last fall when my mom nearly died and the insurance company thought the trip in was unnecessary. My mom didn't want to go in before seeing her doctor.<br />
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Wednesday night, my Dad took my mom to the theatre. My sister and I ran around and got some errands done...like going to the laundromat because the washing machine was broken.<br />
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Thursday afternoon included a ton of errands for me. To get Tymon's phone set up at T-Mobile, to get Jocelyn's glasses new frames and to a several different stores.<br />
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Friday night we went to dinner at a favorite Mexican restaurant. Mom was weak. But so happy we were together.<br />
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Saturday we had a work party with my brothers. We got my dad's old typewriter collection and my parents' yearbooks and a few paintings from the home we grew up in and moved them down the street to their new house, which is wheelchair accessible and set up for a home care situation.</div>
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My mom's whole face lit up when she came to the kitchen table to see what we'd done. My parents just moved into this house a couple of months ago because it's wheelchair accessible...not just with ramps but with wide doorways, accessible bathrooms and even an oven that opens from the side and not by pulling it down. They even have a physical therapy pool. But it felt empty. Nothing on the walls. No evidence of family.</div>
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We displayed my father's old typewriter collection as well as photos of their youth, wedding and yearbooks. We also hung several pictures and her favorite brightly colored painting of three ladies in an African market in the dining room.</div>
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Sunday we went to church. It was a privilege to help my mom get ready. We left after the main service and I made her lunch. Homemade beet salad and cream of mushroom soup. And while that may not seem super exciting, she loved it and ate it all. We had dinner at Brett's house. My mom was tired and needed to rest during dinner.</div>
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Monday morning, I dropped Elliott off at my cousin's house and we took Mom to see her doctor. The doctor could smell the wound. Only looked at the top edge. Then the whole thing. Then called an ambulance to go to the ER and have a debridement surgery.</div>
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Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-50077766413581601032017-01-27T13:02:00.000-08:002017-02-01T17:05:00.335-08:00The Big RevealI think I'll start this post just like my last one...so excuse the first lines. But I got distracted typing yesterday, so I wasn't able to pull in the part of the story that went with those lines. And rather than not publish, I did it anyway. Because shorter posts spread out over more days is more fun, right?!<br />
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A month ago I bought tickets to come visit my mom. Only I didn't tell her. Or my dad or anyone - except my sister. And she coordinated the ride from the airport and staying with my parents (what's a couple of extra guests, anyway?)...so logistics were covered.<br />
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There are no direct flights between Sao Paulo and Seattle, so when Chicago showed up on the cheapest route, I made the layover about 10 hours instead of just a couple. That meant Elliott, my sole travel companion, and I could visit the city on our way to Seattle.<br />
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We arrived early in the morning and finished with customs and a train delay to bring us to Millennial Park by 9am. But holy moly, it's soooo cold in Chicago. My nose is sore, my lips are chapped and the eczema rash on my hand is bright red inflamed and starting to crack open. Eek.<br />
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We visited the bean...or rather Cloud Gate, Millennial Park, the cultural center, ,the Riverwalk, explored Navy Pier and went on the Centennial Wheel and walked around town...of course we went shopping, too. Not so much to buy stuff. But shops are heated and we like that.<br />
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Our flight to Seattle arrived about 40 minutes early - no big deal, because my sister Kristal's flight got in early, too. So as we were taxiing to our gate, her plane landed. From the plane she texted my brother Brett to come early and he was only 20 minutes away so we didn't have to wait around at all. My sister met us in baggage claim and then instead of her going outside to meet him, I did. As I approached the car, he got out and was smiling. He'd done a double take...because Kristal sure does look a lot like Bridget. Ha ha ha. Priceless.</div>
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After me, Kristal came out. Then a minute later Elliott came. When Brett was sure we weren't hiding anyone else, we started driving. Along the way we called my brother JC to see if he was still at the office. He was so Brett said they'd stop by. So for the next 20 minutes we plotted how to surprise him. Wouldn't it be fun to put Elliott in our big suitcase and say that Kristal brought something for JC? Yeah, that's an awesome plan. Except when we pulled up around the back of the office and got out of the car, we noticed that Elliott is a lot bigger than we remembered and sizing him up next to the suitcase, it was clear our plan was destined for failure. So we just put him in the trunk instead. And not having a plan for me meant I was going to get in with him. Trunk time. Yay! </div>
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So Brett drove around to the building entrance, goes in, feeds JC a line about the car having a leak or something because there's a musty smell. JC comes outside to check out the car and Brett starts filming. I hear them and decide to film my first Facebook Live video. Brett popped the trunk open and Elliott and I pop out waving our hands and give JC a mini-heart attack. Success! Mission accomplished. And then I notice that after all the selfies Elliott and I had taken in Chicago, my camera is pointed in the wrong direction and I missed filming JC's reaction. #FacebookLiveRookie</div>
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After going out to dinner, we split up into separate cars and my sister, Elliott and I continued our journey to my parent's house.</div>
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BACK STORY: Last week I started ordering a few things from Amazon. I was careful to adjust my Prime 2-day shipping to be more like 4 or 5 days so the packages wouldn't arrive before we did. And then Tymon asked me to get some dodge balls and I was like, okay, click click, it's done. And then I realized I didn't adjust any dates. The balls were set to arrive a few hours BEFORE we arrived. Eek! So I started hoping my parents wouldn't go out their front door and wouldn't notice the package.</div>
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Which now brings me to the airport in Chicago. Elliott and I are sitting down charging my phone when my dad calls. I answered and was praying he wouldn't hear that we were in the airport as flights are announced. They got the package and he's concerned about how to get it to me. Doh! How did they discover the package??? I bet the delivery guy rang the bell. Darn him. </div>
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Remember...this is a surprise trip. So, I say it's probably pretty light and that it's dodge balls. We have to get them from the US. But "Tymon isn't home" I say with certainty...even though he might have been. What did I know? I was sitting next to my gate at O'Hare. So I continue on about making shipping arrangements and getting back to him the next day. Then quick, I change the subject. </div>
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My sister is coming to visit. Really?! Cool. Yeah, he tells me. He's excited because she'll come to church with them and everyone will think that she's me because we look so much alike. Except that we don't. I mean yes there's family resemblance, but no for us looking like twins. </div>
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The thing is he has proof we look alike. Apparently Google's Picasa wants to label us as the same person. Ha ha. We used to dress up like twins when we were 5 and 6. That was fun. And we bought matching outfits when we were 14 and 15 and pretended to be twins at summer camp. But seriously, it's been 25 years since such escapades. Which brings me back to the...</div>
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PRESENT STORY: Kristal and Elliott stayed in the car when we arrived at my parent's house. I rang the bell and my dad came after a few moments. He looked at me and gave me a hug. I didn't say more than hi, no use in giving him more info than necessary to ruin the surprise.</div>
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Kristal walks around the corner and my dad says he thought Kristal looked an awful lot like me. Bwahahahaha!</div>
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So, it was a quarter after 10pm and I went in to see my mom who was already in bed. I gave her a kiss and she said hi. While our faces were so close together she locked eyes with me. I could see the wheels turning. And not understanding how I was Kristal. How was Kristal looking so much like Bridget? Then Kristal came in and cleared up the confusion immediately.</div>
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This surprise trip has had the most fun reveals ever. From Elliott's reaction to when I told him he was coming a couple days before we left, to my siblings' and my parents' reactions. I loved it. </div>
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The moral of the story: The best way to confirm that someone doesn't look like you is to impersonate them being you.</div>
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Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-1719524832700983832017-01-26T09:32:00.002-08:002017-01-26T09:32:57.495-08:00Lucky!A month ago, I bought tickets to come visit my mom. Only I didn't tell her. Or my dad. Or anyone else except my sister. I gave her the info on my flight and then she got one that was coming in 15 minutes before mine. This way she could get a ride from the airport and I could tag along. We both planned to stay with our parents. Simple. Easy.<br />
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So checking into our flight Sao Paulo I was asked if, on a standby availability basis, I would like a complementary upgrade in seats. Change my lousy economy seat for better? Yeah. No thought required there. We were in row 45...aka the last one.<br />
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There were 3 seats on our side and the lady next to us moved. LUCKY!!! One extra seat in coach means we can lie down to sleep with the illusion we won't get a kink in our necks. And Elliott took hers because our touch screen TVs were temperamentally responsive.<br />
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Maybe 10 minutes before take off, they called my name to come forward and to bring all of my belongings. LUCKY!!! The upgrade came through! They handed me my new boarding pass and I was moving to 6E. LUCKY!!! I wasn't getting a few more inches of legroom, but rather seats that fully recline into a bed. LUCKY!!!<br />
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So then I say, I'm traveling with my son. And they're like, "uh, lemme walkie talkie over to the gate agent." Then they told me to go back and get Elliott. LUCKY!!! The seats aren't together. DON'T CARE! And then we get to our new seats and the flight attendant talks to a couple of people and gets them to move to create two seats next to each other. LUCKY!!!<br />
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I planned a long layover in Chicago for me and Elliott so we could visit the city a little bit. So we didn't bring backpacks or anything that we'd have to carry around all day. We just put our toothbrushes in my purse. I was pretty bummed about not having my neck pillow but not bummed enough to want to bring it to carry around in Chicago. No matter. In first class seats you get 2 pillows. One full size, like for your bed. And the other half that size, which is still double the size of the lousy coach pillow. They were like bits of heaven to a weary soul. LUCKY!!!<br />
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So we ordered drinks before the flight...they came with a Ferrero Rocher chocolate. A few minutes later they came by to take our dinner order. Yes order. Like we had 5 different choices. And had we looked at the menu? There were a couple of breakfast choices, too. Both with more than a yogurt and croissant. LUCKY!!!<br />
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After takeoff they served us nuts in a little ceramic bowl. I don't mean peanuts. I mean cashews and almonds. LUCKY!!! Remember the old days when international flights gave you a hot towel to wash your hands before a meal? Yeah. Haven't seen that since....uh, maybe the 90s. Well, turns out they still do it for business class. LUCKY!!!<br />
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We had an appetizer, salad, main course, cheese and grapes plate, ice cream sundae dessert and then were left with our personal big screen TVs for the next 7 hours. Wow. LUCKY!!!<br />
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I'm pretty sure this LUCKY upgrade will never happen again. And I won't be booking business class tickets for my family of 7 any time soon. But it was so awesome just this once.<br />
<br />Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-32860251111495907802017-01-22T15:39:00.000-08:002017-01-22T15:39:06.097-08:00Bomb DroppingI spoke in church last week. That in and of itself is not super remarkable. Except this time, it was in Portuguese to maybe 200 or so people. Did I mention I don't speak Portuguese? Well, that's not entirely true. I do speak a little bit. But not everything I said was within my skill set. In fact, I learned several new words.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graeden spoke in church last February. In Portuguese. I'm on the slow track. Ha ha.</td></tr>
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I wrote the talk in English. It took me a couple of weeks. Of thinking. Of praying. Of brainstorming ideas. Of writing. The problem was, it just wasn't good. But in the final hour of Saturday night, I pulled it together and I emailed it to Caleb, Tymon's business partner who lives in our basement. He was on the phone with his Brazilian wife, who now lives in Texas. They spent the next couple hours working out a translation. I didn't mean to hijack their evening. But I did. And they were willing to help me. And I am grateful for their help. Meanwhile, I went to bed.<br />
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Sunday morning, I woke up at 6:30, opened my email, found the talk and read through it. Out loud. With a timer. It was supposed to be 10 minutes. Turns out it was 12 in English. And 25 in Portuguese. Whoops. But what could I do? Church starts at 9am and I don't have the language skills to shorten or fix anything. I read through it again, got dressed and went to church.<br />
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I got to church and sat up front. I warned the brother conducting that I was going to take longer. He said no problem, I had until 9:40, which means instead of 10 minutes, I could have 15. I said, sorry. I'm taking longer. Once I start I have no ability to stop.<br />
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I started. Didn't look up. Read my paper. My head down. Worst presentation of my life. I only looked up a few times only seeing people in the first two rows. I had no idea where Tymon and the family were sitting, though I caught Jocelyn alone on the front row at one point. The clock was on the wall but I couldn't look at it. I didn't want to know how much time I was taking.<br />
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A few times I put my finger on the text to help me not get lost. I talked about the gospel as it's called the Plan of Happiness. I focused on the need for us to have experiences on earth. And opposition in all things. Toward the end, I talked about the bomb God dropped in our lives when Evan died. I had some tears that welled up. I couldn't see. But I needed to read. There's no way to improvise with my language skills. I just wiped my right eye. And pressed forward.<br />
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I sat down at 9:50. We sang a rest hymn. Good thing it was only one verse. That left 12 minutes for the next two speakers. Whoops. I apologized. Maybe they were secretly thrilled. I don't know. The meeting actually ended just a few minutes late. Not too bad. Phew!<br />
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So let me tell you, never in my life have I received so much positive feedback from speaking in church. Probably 15-20 people thanked me for my words during the next couple of hours. Tymon said 5 or 6 complemented me to him. Then scattered throughout this past week half a dozen more reached out to me individually and today at church another 4 or 5 congratulated me.<br />
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It was a humble presentation. I'm happy my pronunciation and accent are acceptable enough that so many understood my words. I'm happy the Spirit spoke through me. I'm happy for the sounding board and editing help Tymon gave me. I'm so grateful for Caleb's help.<br />
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Feedback: One brother told me that the talk was well written and asked if he could use one of my stories. He's a writer and really liked the way I told the story...I told him I had a blog. Another brother said that that talk was General Conference worthy. Another friend said: Estou muito orgulhosa de ti!!!<br />
Agora só vou falar português contigo!! She's proud of me and only going to speak to me in Portuguese. I replied, Como? Não intendo...What? I don't understand. Ha ha. A few more asked for my talk by email. I've attached it below...in English and Portuguese.<br />
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<span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Plan of
Happiness<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My family and I moved to
Brazil about a year and a half ago. We’re from the NW corner of the United
States next to the Pacific Ocean. There are many hills, rivers, lakes and tall
evergreen trees as well as clouds and drizzle for about 9 months out of the
year. In my professional life, I teach teens how to drive. My siblings and I own
some driving schools and they are taking care of the business while I’m in Sao
Paulo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Something most people
don’t realize when learning to drive is that the actual physical task of
driving, like stopping and starting or turning corners has very little to do
with crash-free driving. Many focus their efforts and judge their success on
how well they can parallel park. In reality, very few people crash or die while
parking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Likewise, in life people
get caught up in specific details, perhaps financial success or popularity on
social media. But in reality, those things have very little to do with the eternities
or our personal development. To help us to focus on what’s important, Heavenly
Father has created a plan for us. The bible calls it the gospel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Book of Mormon
expands on that name with a few more. Each name focuses our attention on a
specific part of the gospel. For example, when I think of the Plan of
Salvation, I think of being saved to live with God in heaven. Talking about the
Plan of Redemption turns me to Jesus as our Redeemer and his role within the
plan. The Plan of Mercy is like a dance between the Father and Son and how
they’re going to work together for our benefit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jesus taught us in <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+3%3A15-16&version=ESV">John 3:16</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>God<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>so<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>loved<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>world,
that he<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>gave<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>his<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>only<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>begotten<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Son, that whosoever<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>believeth<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>in him should not perish, but have<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>everlasting<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So while the gospel plan
goes by several names, the object is to have everlasting life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is another name
that the gospel of Jesus Christ is called: The Plan of Happiness. I’d like to
focus on this one because to me, it’s a little different than the others.
Instead of focusing on what others have done for us, it centers on what we can
do for ourselves. The Book of Mormon prophet Lehi, in 2 Nephi 2:25, taught his family
about life’s purpose.<span class="verse"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"> </span></span><span class="verse"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="verse"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Adam<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>fell<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>that men might be; and men<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>are, that they might have<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">President Thomas S.
Monson taught us in the last general conference that it is not enough to just
believe in the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">We need to work and learn, search and pray, repent and
improve…</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When we combine the words
of both prophets, we find the wisdom that when we work, learn, search, pray,
repent and improve, we will have joy. Having experiences are important to our
Heavenly Father’s Plan of Happiness. Without them, it’s just theory. Something
untested. I first learned about the pre-existence, coming to live on earth,
Jesus Christ’s atonement and the afterlife when I was a child…so long ago that
I can’t remember NOT knowing. But knowledge isn’t enough. There are things that
are impossible to understand without actually experiencing them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What does joy look like for
me? Because sometimes, I’m just not happy. And counting my blessings only makes
me feel guilty for having so much yet still focusing on what I lack. Sometimes,
all I need is an attitude adjustment. And sometimes real changes need to occur.
I’ve collected 5 ideas that I can practice in my life to bring me joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">First, joy is the result
of what we choose to think about. When we choose to indulge in feelings of
misery, rejection, abandonment, sorrow and betrayal, we feel powerless and
those feelings take root. When we choose to turn away from feeling sorry for
ourselves, even if we are in a situation that won’t change, we gain power to
change ourselves. Focusing on what we can do and feeding productive thoughts
leads to positive shifts in our behavior. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The second comes from a
group of researchers at Harvard in 1939. They set out to find some answers to
life’s pressing questions by following the lives of over 700 men. One group was
composed of upper class Harvard men and another group included the working class
men in Boston. This longitudinal study spanned over 75 years and looked at many
things, including happiness. The findings overwhelmingly indicated that there
is one simple way to be happy. Invest in close, positive relationships.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The strongest indicator
at age 50 of whether or not you’ll be alive at age 80 is how strong your
positive relationships are. It’s not your cholesterol level or how much
exercise you get. Not how much you drink. But rather your positive connections
to others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the hardest parts
of living in Brazil for me has been my lack of close friends. A large part of
this is due to my language difficulties. However, slowly but surely those
relationships are developing. In the past month, I’ve worked on connecting to
others by inviting friends to come to join us for a meal or activity. I’ve also
accepted invitations from friends to their homes or to experience new places
with them. Investing in real-life friends who live near me bring more happiness
than those on my social media accounts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The third idea <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Several years ago, I was
teaching a 15 year old girl how to drive on a 2-lane highway. We were in a no
passing zone when an on-coming car came into our lane. He was trying to get
ahead of several vehicles in front of him. I saw him as soon as he entered our
lane and knew we had just a few seconds to respond. While moving my hand toward
the steering wheel, I asked my student driver if she saw the car in our lane
coming straight for us. We were at risk for a head on collision. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She didn’t see it until I
asked her the question. Even though in our classroom sessions she had learned
what to do in the case of a head-on collision threat, in the moment we needed
quick response, she hesitated. I guided our car to the shoulder. And then we
took the next exit so we could change our pants. Just kidding. No bodily fluids
escaped. But we both gained important experience that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It doesn’t matter how
great she scored on her exams in driving school. In the moment she didn’t even
see the problem. Excellent drivers train their vision on the horizon and
incorporate visual search patterns to scan intersections and points of conflict
as well as being aware of what’s going on behind them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just like excellent
drivers, if I want to excel in happiness, I need to set my vision high on the
eternal perspective found in the temple. While aiming for the eternities, my
visual search patterns will draw my attention to what is happening in my home,
my neighborhood and in my city. So that I may better prepare myself and my
children to handle the challenges that are presented to us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Low-aim drivers are
surprised when crashes occur. But if we look up, usually there are warning
signs for problems in our lives. By incorporating consistent search patterns,
we can recognize many problems before they become catastrophes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The fourth thought came
to me from my missionary training center experience. While there, one of our
teachers let us in on a little secret. He said that the real reason we go on
missions is not for convert baptisms, but it’s for our own benefit. By serving
others, we find out who we really are and build up a store of spiritual
experiences and habits that will bring us happiness for years to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The same can be said for
going to the temple. The real reason we go is to gain eternal perspective. The
real reason we read scriptures and say our prayers is to connect with God. The
real reason we go to church is to connect with others we wouldn’t necessarily
otherwise connect with. All of these connections have the power to transform
our lives and bring us happiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday, I helped a
friend wash her dishes and clean her kitchen. I’m pretty sure the sink wasn’t
clear for more than ten minutes before dinner prep started and everything was
dirty again. But tackling a project you’ve been avoiding feels good. And I got
an hour to practice speaking Portuguese and connect with a friend in real life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fifth, comes from <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ecclesiastes+3%3A1-9&version=ESV"><b>Ecclesiastes
3:1,</b></a><b><u> 2 and 4</u></b><b> <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.9pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" name="1"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"> </span></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">1 </span>To every <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">thing there is</span></i> a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.9pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" name="2"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"> </span></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">2 </span>A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to
plant, and a time to pluck up <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">that which is</span></i> planted;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.9pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" name="4"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"> </span></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">4 </span>A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn,
and a time to dance;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.9pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.9pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes, it’s important to remember opposition in all things.
If we don’t know the bitter, we won’t know the sweet. There is also life after devastation.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.9pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My belief in the Lord’s
plan of happiness went untested for most of my life. Then the Lord dropped a
bomb when our one year old son had an accident and passed away. For the first
time in my life, I wasn’t so sure about this plan. It was a great plan for when
my grandparents died. It was great plan for when my uncle died. It was even
fine when someone else’s child died. But when it was my child, everything was
different. Leaving the hospital empty-handed, without our boy, shook me to the
core.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why me? Why my boy? This
question turned into, “why not me”? Why shouldn’t I experience grief and pain?
Why am I any different than millions of others who’ve experienced the same
thing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Through all of it God was
there. Beside me. He was patient with my anger. Because I was very angry. And
hurt. Why didn’t he save my son? I had faith. I prayed. We used his priesthood
to give our son a blessing. So when it we most needed HIM, why didn’t he help
us?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Six days after our Evan
died, Jocelyn was born. While in the darkest abyss, he granted me a ray of
sunshine. A reason to get up in the morning. Never before have I been the
recipient of such love and compassion from living angels God put into my path.
And into my home. What I didn’t realize is that God did listen to my prayers.
And answered them in ways that are still being shown to me over 8 years later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While there is still
missing and still longing for our son, I have also never felt a greater peace
in my life than when God confirmed to me that our son will be okay. And when
the waves of grief sneak up on me, I go back to that peace. And I’m thankful
for who this experience has made me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes, I wonder what
heaven will be like. Then I remember that I know. I’ve had a small taste in the
little arms of my son wrapped around me. Holding on tight. It speaks of warmth,
light and laughter. God is love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God gave us the Plan of
Happiness to help us to focus on what’s truly important in life. Theoretical
ideas don’t make us happy. We must have experiences. When we choose to focus on
the positive, we are happy. When we invest in close positive relationships with
friends and family we feel loved. Focusing on eternal perspective helps us
interpret day to day life issues and see where we’ve come from. And finally,
there is opposition in all things. Your happiness will be tested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I leave these thoughts
with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span lang="PT-BR"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O
Plano de Felicidade e o Papel de Jesus Cristo<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="PT-BR"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span>
</span><br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Minha família e eu nos mudamos para o Brasil há cerca
de um ano e meio. Nós somos do noroeste dos Estados Unidos ao lado do Oceano
Pacífico. Há muitos montes, rios, lagos e pinheiros altos lá, assim como nuvens
e garoa por aproximadamente 9 meses do ano. Na minha vida profissional, eu
ensino adolescentes a dirigir. Meus irmãos e eu somos donos de algumas auto escolas
e eles estão cuidando do negócio enquanto eu estou em São Paulo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Algo que a maioria das pessoas não percebem quando aprendem
a dirigir é que o ato físico de dirigir, como parar e começar o carro ou fazer
uma curva, tem muito pouco a ver com a habilidade de dirigir sem acidentes.
Muitos concentram seus esforços e medem seu sucesso na sua habilidade de
estacionar em paralelo. Na realidade, muito poucas pessoas causam acidentes ou
morrem enquanto estão estacionando.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Da mesma forma, muitas pessoas dão importância demais a
detalhes específicos desta vida, como por exemplo o sucesso financeiro ou a popularidade
nas redes sociais. Mas, na realidade, essas coisas têm muito pouco a ver com as
eternidades ou com nosso desenvolvimento pessoal. Para nos ajudar a nos
concentrar no que é importante, o Pai Celestial criou um plano para nós. A
Bíblia chama isso de o Evangelho.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A este nome, O Livro de Mórmon acrescenta mais alguns.
Cada um destes nomes focaliza nossa atenção em uma parte específica do
evangelho. Por exemplo, quando penso no Plano de Salvação, penso em ser salva para
poder viver com Deus no céu. Falar sobre o Plano de Redenção me faz pensar em
Jesus como nosso Redentor e seu papel dentro do plano. O Plano de Misericórdia
é como uma dança entre o Pai e o Filho e como eles vão trabalhar juntos para
nosso benefício.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jesus nos ensinou em João 3:16<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Porque Deus amou o mundo de tal maneira que deu o seu
Filho unigênito, para que todo aquele que nele crê não pereça, mas tenha a vida
eterna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Assim, embora o plano do evangelho tenha vários nomes,
o objetivo é alcançar a vida eterna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Existe um outro nome pelo qual o evangelho de Jesus
Cristo é chamado: O Plano de Felicidade. Eu gostaria de focar neste nome,
porque para mim, é um pouco diferente dos outros. Em vez de se concentrar no
que os outros fizeram por nós, ele nos lembra do que podemos fazer por nós
mesmos. O profeta Leí do Livro de Mórmon, em Segunda Néfi dois e vinte-cinco,
ensinou a sua família sobre o propósito da vida.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Adão caiu para que os homens existissem; e os homens
existem para que tenham alegria.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O Presidente Thomas S. Monson nos ensinou na última
conferência geral que não basta apenas acreditar no sacrifício expiatório de
Jesus Cristo:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Precisamos trabalhar e aprender, procurar e orar,
arrepender e melhorar ...</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Quando combinamos as palavras destes dois profetas,
encontramos a sabedoria de que quando trabalhamos, aprendemos, buscamos,
oramos, nos arrependemos e melhoramos, teremos alegria. Ter experiências é
importante para o Plano de Felicidade do Pai Celestial. Sem elas, é apenas
teoria. Algo não testado. Eu aprendi sobre a pré-existência, a vida na terra, a
expiação de Jesus Cristo e a vida após a morte pela primeira vez quando eu era
uma criança... tanto tempo atrás que eu não consigo lembrar de um tempo em que
eu NÃO sabia estas coisas. Mas o conhecimento não é suficiente. Há coisas que
são impossíveis de entender sem experimentá-las.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O que quer dizer alegria para mim? Porque às vezes, eu
não estou feliz. E contar minhas bênçãos só me faz sentir culpada por ter tanta
coisa e ainda estar focando no que me falta. Às vezes, tudo que eu preciso é um
ajuste de atitude. E às vezes as mudanças reais precisam ocorrer. Eu juntei cinco
5 ideias de coisas que eu posso fazer para trazer alegria à minha vida.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Primeiro, a alegria é o resultado do que escolhemos
pensar. Quando escolhemos pensar em miséria, rejeição, abandono, tristeza e
traição, nos sentimos impotentes e esses sentimentos se enraízam. Quando
escolhemos não sentir pena de nós mesmos, mesmo estando em uma situação que não
vai mudar, ganhamos poder para mudar a nós mesmos. Concentrar-nos no que
podemos fazer e alimentar pensamentos produtivos leva a mudanças positivas no
nosso comportamento.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A segunda coisa vem de um grupo de pesquisadores em
Harvard, em mil novecentos e trinta e novi 1939. Eles procuraram encontrar
algumas respostas para as perguntas mais importantes da vida estudando as vidas
de mais de setecentos 700 homens. Um grupo era composto de classe alta da Harvard
e outro grupo incluiu os homens da classe trabalhadora em Boston. Este estudo
longitudinal durou mais de setenta e cinco 75 anos e olhou para muitas coisas,
incluindo a felicidade. Os resultados indicaram claramente que existe uma
maneira simples de ser feliz. Investir em relações próximas e positivas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O indicador mais forte para saber se uma pessoa de cinquenta
50 anos estará viva ou não aos oitenta 80 anos é a qualidade dos seus
relacionamentos positivos. Não é o nível do colesterol ou quanto você se
exercita. Não é o quanto você bebe. Mas sim suas conexões positivas com os
outros.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;">Uma das partes mais difíceis de viver no
Brasil para mim foi a minha falta de amigos íntimos. Grande parte disso é
devido às minhas dificuldades com a língua. No entanto, essas relações estão se
desenvolvendo. Durante este mês, eu tenho tentado conectar-me a outros
convidando amigos para uma refeição ou atividade. Eu também tenho aceitado convites
de amigos para ir a suas casas ou para conhecer novos lugares</span><span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"> </span><span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;">com eles. Investir em amizades com pessoas
que vivem perto de mim me traz mais felicidade do que amizades através da mídia
social.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A terceira ideia<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Vários anos atrás, eu estava ensinando uma
menina de quinze 15 anos a dirigir em uma estrada de duas pistas. Nós estávamos
em uma zona sem ultrapassagem quando um carro, em direção oposta, avançou em nossa
pista. Ele estava tentando ultrapassar outros carros na frente dele. Eu o vi
assim que ele entrou em nossa pista e sabia que tínhamos apenas alguns segundos
para responder. Enquanto movia minha mão em direção ao volante, perguntei ao
meu motorista se ela viu o carro em nossa pista vindo em nossa direção. O
perigo de uma colisão grave era grande.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ela não viu o carro até que eu fiz a
pergunta. Mesmo que na sala de aula ela tivesse aprendido o que fazer no caso
de uma ameaça de colisão frontal, no momento em que precisávamos de uma resposta
rápida, ela hesitou. Guiei nosso carro até o encosto. Pegamos a próxima saída para
que pudéssemos trocar nossas calças. Brincadeira. Nenhum fluido corporal
escapou. Mas nós duas ganhamos uma experiência importante naquele dia.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Não importa quão altas tenham sido suas
notas na escola de condução. Naquele momento, ela nem viu o problema. Os motoristas
excelentes treinam sua visão no horizonte e constantemente escaneam cruzamentos
e pontos de conflito e estão cientes do que está acontecendo atrás deles.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Assim como um bom motorista, se eu quiser ter
êxito na área de felicidade, eu preciso treinar minha visão na perspectiva
eterna que encontramos no templo. Enquanto visando as eternidades, devo estar
constantemente escaneando o que está acontecendo em minha casa, no meu bairro e
na minha cidade, para que eu possa me preparar e preparar os meus filhos para
lidar com os desafios que são apresentados a nós.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Motoristas que só focalizam no que está
diretamente a sua frente são surpreendidos quando acidentes acontecem. Se vimos
encima, normalmente há sinais de alerta para problemas em nossas vidas. Ao
incorporar hábitos de treinar a visão e escanear o horizonte, podemos
reconhecer muitos problemas antes que se tornem catástrofes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O quarto pensamento vem da minha
experiência no centro de treinamento missionário. Enquanto lá, um de nossos
professores nos contou um pequeno segredo. Ele disse que a verdadeira razão
pela qual servimos missões não é para batizar pessoas, mas é para nosso próprio
benefício. Ao servir os outros, descobrimos quem realmente somos e acumulamos experiências
e hábitos espirituais que nos trará felicidade nos próximos anos.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O mesmo pode ser dito sobre ir ao templo.
A verdadeira razão pela qual vamos é para ganhar perspectiva eterna. A
verdadeira razão pela qual lemos as escrituras e fazemos nossas orações é para
nos conectar com Deus. A verdadeira razão pela qual vamos à igreja é para nos
conectarmos com outras pessoas fora de nosso círculo de amizades. Todas essas
conexões têm o poder de transformar nossas vidas e nos trazer felicidade.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ontem, eu ajudei uma amiga a lavar seus
pratos e limpar sua cozinha. Tenho certeza que a pia não ficou limpa por mais que
dez minutos antes da preparação da janta quando tudo ficou sujo novamente. Mas
enfrentar um desafio que você estava evitando nos faz sentir bem. E eu tive uma
hora para praticar meu Português e para me conectar com uma amiga na vida real.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">O quinto vem de Eclesiastes 3: 1, 2 e 4<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1 Tudo tem o seu tempo determinado, e todo propósito
debaixo do céu tem o seu tempo:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> 2
Há tempo de nascer, e tempo de morrer; tempo de plantar, e tempo de arrancar o
que se plantou;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4 Tempo de chorar, e tempo de rir; tempo
de prantear, e tempo de dançar;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Às vezes, é importante lembrar que existe oposição
em todas as coisas. Se não conhecemos o amargo, não saberemos o doce. Há também
vida após a tragédia.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Minha crença no plano de felicidade do
Senhor não foi testada durante a maior parte de minha vida. Então o Senhor jogou
uma bomba quando nosso filho de um ano teve um acidente e faleceu. Pela
primeira vez na minha vida, eu não tinha tanta certeza sobre esse plano. Foi um
grande plano para quando meus avós morreram. Foi um grande plano para quando
meu tio morreu. Foi até um bom plano quando o filho de uma outra pessoa morreu.
Mas quando foi meu filho, tudo era diferente. Deixando o hospital de mãos
vazias, sem nosso garoto, me sacudiu até o âmago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Por que eu? Por que meu garoto? Esta
pergunta se transformou em "por que não eu"? Por que eu não deveria
sentir tristeza e dor? Por que eu sou diferente de milhões de pessoas que sofrem
a mesma coisa?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Por tudo isso Deus estava lá. Ao meu lado.
Ele foi paciente com minha raiva. Porque eu estava muito zangada. E magoada.
Por que ele não salvou meu filho? Eu tinha fé. Eu orei. O sacerdócio foi usado para
dar uma bênção a nosso filho. Então, quando mais precisávamos dele, por que ele
não nos ajudou?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Seis dias depois que nosso Evan morreu,
Jocelyn nasceu. Enquanto no abismo mais escuro, ele me concedeu um raio de sol.
Uma razão para me levantar de manhã. Nunca antes eu fui a destinatária de tal
amor e compaixão dos anjos vivos que Deus colocou no meu caminho. E em minha
casa. O que eu não percebi é que Deus ouviu minhas orações e as respondeu de
maneiras que ainda são mostradas para mim mais de 8 anos depois.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Enquanto ainda sinto falta e ainda anseio
por nosso filho, eu também nunca senti uma maior paz na minha vida do que
quando Deus confirmou-me que o nosso filho ficaria bem. E quando a tristeza e a
dor da perda retornam, eu volto para aquela paz. E eu estou grata pela pessoa
que me tornei por causa desta experiência.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Às vezes, eu me pergunto como será o céu.
Então eu lembro que eu sei. Eu tive um gostinho do céu quando eu tive os braços
do meu filho enrolados em torno de mim. Segurando firme. Fala de calor, luz e
riso. Deus é amor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Deus nos deu o Plano de Felicidade para
nos ajudar a nos concentrar no que é realmente importante na vida. As ideias
teóricas não nos fazem felizes. Devemos ter experiências. Quando escolhemos nos
concentrar no positivo, estamos felizes. Quando investimos em relacionamentos
positivos próximos com amigos e família nos sentimos amados. Focalizar na
perspectiva eterna nos ajuda a fazer sentido das questões do dia-a-dia e ver de
onde viemos. E, finalmente, há oposição em todas as coisas. Sua felicidade será
testada.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="PT-BR" style="line-height: 120%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eu deixo esses pensamentos com vocês em
nome de Jesus Cristo, Amém.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: 120%; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-23639163361042728372016-10-21T06:18:00.001-07:002016-10-23T11:14:04.362-07:00Color Ourselves Into the World<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I made paper dolls with the kids this week. For the younger kids we worked on colors and their dolls had Halloween costumes. For the older kids we worked on colors and names of articles of clothing. All of them loved the activity, which surprised me. Mostly because I don't think of 13 and 14 year old boys as liking to color. But they did. And so did the girls. I guess that's why adult coloring books are popular...because everyone likes to color.</div>
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I did my best to choose paper dolls that reflect their physical make up. But it was hard. Because the better designs, the simpler designs, the designs that weren't wearing lederhosen (seriously) were of people of northern European descent. Yeah. So not really my demographic. But still the show must go on. So I chose the designs best suited to the lessons needs. Because seriously, kids can color hair any color they want, right? </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dM6X8Um6xOM/WAoNVdvE0tI/AAAAAAAAkAE/MGN5anvOYE4wz_91BRT-2uA9F3Zp3dm2QCLcB/s1600/IMG_20161019_105549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dM6X8Um6xOM/WAoNVdvE0tI/AAAAAAAAkAE/MGN5anvOYE4wz_91BRT-2uA9F3Zp3dm2QCLcB/s400/IMG_20161019_105549.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here's the crazy thing...most of the younger kids colored the hair blonde. We had one brunette, one ginger and one scribble monster that was completely black. But the rest colored the doll hair blonde. Seriously. There isn't one blonde in the joint. I've got the lightest skin but even I have dark brown hair.</div>
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I asked the girl smiling why she was coloring the doll with blonde hair (as I conspicuously colored mine dark). She told me blonde is beautiful. <b>What?!</b> </div>
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And as I looked around all of the girls were coloring blonde hair. <b>What?! </b></div>
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I took a brown pencil and colored my skin super light. What's interesting is that it's the most realistic skin coloring I've ever done. I mean I've always used the peach or apricot color for my pictures I shouldn't, though. The super light brown looks more like the real me. So what color do these golden brown-skinned beauties of mine color the skin on their dolls? Peach. <b>WHAT?!</b> </div>
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Whoa. How about we save orange skin tones for Trump and we stick to something more natural? And seriously, the color of their skin is beautiful. Despite my positive example, they colored their dolls using the beautiful colors of their choice. </div>
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Why do we hate our hair, no matter what it looks like? I have straight-ish hair but always slept in curlers as a child and as a teen I always had perms. My sister always got the blonde dolls for Christmas and I got the brunettes/gingers. It probably made life simpler for my parents when there were only two choices in the store. But just once I wanted a blonde doll, too.</div>
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About <a href="http://facts.randomhistory.com/blonde-hair-facts.html" target="_blank">2%</a> of the world's population is blonde. It's most common in the UK and Scandinavian countries. So why do we idealize blondes as children? Is it because it's what we don't have? I have to admit that as an older teen and young adult I came to embrace my hair. It's a pretty color. It grows quickly. I haven't had a perm in literally 25 years. I don't see myself getting another one for the rest of my life.</div>
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With the older children I teach, I also found some of them coloring their dolls more similar to themselves. I like that. To me it shows maturity to accept ourselves as we are. To view ourselves as beautiful. And to color ourselves into the world.</div>
Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-51105202505176993102016-10-09T11:35:00.000-07:002017-02-26T17:47:52.039-08:00Quiet ReflectionI don't know when my parents got old. But they did. Especially my mom. And the majority of my memories of my mom come from when she was my age. What?! How did I get to be so old. Or rather when did my mom start withdrawing into silence when she used to be the life of the party.<br />
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Part of me likes being an adult. I'm in the prime of my life. Another part of me longs to be a kid with unlimited access to my mom. It's possible that she'll die while I'm in Brazil. I know life isn't guaranteed and anyone can say that. But my mom's health has deteriorated over the last ten years and it makes me sad. She's not the same as before. She's quiet. Lets my dad do the talking. She moves slowly. And since her broken pelvis from a fall last month she isn't really moving at all these days.<br />
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Part of me wants to be with her. Part of me knows that it's too late to change the past. It's not even like I'd change too many things. I've had more time with my mom than my siblings as I've lived in the same city as she has and they're a bit further away. But still...I think what I long for are the days when we would read the same book and have discussions while making dinner. The days when we'd plan a party and the food menu and she and my dad would lead a bunch of teens in games. The literati parties we put on every Christmas for a few years after <a href="http://bridgetjohns.blogspot.com.br/2009/02/years-in-making.html" target="_blank">Sister Womyn Sister</a> days. And sometimes I'd sneak into her bed and we'd just lay there and talk about whatever.<br />
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The mother I want to know existed long before I came along. How did her experiences shape her? How did she like motherhood? How did she like marriage? Did she ever have a crisis of faith? When life got hard, how did she cope? Was she happy? Because I don't think I thought about her as a person. She was my mother. And that roll is so powerfully strong that sometimes I think kids forget there's a person underneath.<br />
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My mother is a real person. One that my children have many memories of...mostly going over to watch movies and eat caramel popcorn. Because my mom wanted me to go on dates with my husband. I can only assume that she wished she had such a luxury as a young mother. Her four children are within five years of each other. We were very close. And my children are, too....but I one-upped her by having my first five within five years. Ha ha. She knew it was hard. She wanted to have a relationship with my children.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rhV6RQAa_XhF3ADrny7YCzNjI6Tu8ISG7iE4OsJRSY7AoE1n2YkShnUjDiQSgF_VARndBHhTNBi5KM5xsF37tTzs-pNG5t5Bd3ozDSu7wgjKYMQKn3v1ODoo-XvLRMmzhIu6n22fvfo/s1600/IMAG0103.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rhV6RQAa_XhF3ADrny7YCzNjI6Tu8ISG7iE4OsJRSY7AoE1n2YkShnUjDiQSgF_VARndBHhTNBi5KM5xsF37tTzs-pNG5t5Bd3ozDSu7wgjKYMQKn3v1ODoo-XvLRMmzhIu6n22fvfo/s400/IMAG0103.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I didn't know my grandparents super well...though I lived with my mom's mom for 3 months after my grandfather died. My mom wanted to be involved in my kids' regular lives and she was. She always made time for grandparents day at school and she and my dad came every year for Veteran's day.<br />
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I just don't want to say goodbye. As fantastic as life after death sounds...the reality of the pain of loss and sharpness of grief terrifies me. How did my mom do it when her mother died? What helped her press forward? Those are the questions I want to ask now. To lie in bed and talk about the important things. Our relationships. How to love even when it's hard. How to move forward even when the sugar coated past lulls us reliving our time there.Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-30633090680254509282016-09-05T08:55:00.001-07:002016-09-05T08:55:09.721-07:00Flying NunsThe past several months, I have been volunteering once or twice a week to work with children in an after/before school care facility run by a group of nuns. On occasion, I bring my kids if they don't have school or I'm there in the afternoon. Brazilian schools typically run a morning group of kids and an afternoon group of kids. Each session is about 5 hours long. So the nuns have activities and programs in the morning and then lunch for afternoon school kids and lunch and the same but opposite for the morning school kids. I teach them English.<br />
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There are a lot of kids! Close to a hundred, I think. To help me learn their names, I mimicked what one of my college professors did on my first day of class. He lined us up in the front of the board, had us write our names on it and then stand under our names. Then he took a photo, had it developed after class, and then over the next few days, he memorized everyone's names. Truly brilliant. I loved that he called on me by name in class...not very many college professors can do that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qmZ5wYDX0xBCm-2OmfpmgWJKgCoueCtI-q8u2vMLCuYNEO4EFhfh3oLYV1HHSiNML4a2_xcLT7bL-qWI1xr9_Secwt83rjMoXB4EYeq5ZyfmUE03Ey8ZULnq_Te615nywSnzs7uNnwo/s1600/IMG_20160905_002553+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qmZ5wYDX0xBCm-2OmfpmgWJKgCoueCtI-q8u2vMLCuYNEO4EFhfh3oLYV1HHSiNML4a2_xcLT7bL-qWI1xr9_Secwt83rjMoXB4EYeq5ZyfmUE03Ey8ZULnq_Te615nywSnzs7uNnwo/s400/IMG_20160905_002553+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Well, my efforts are not as hard core as my professor, but I do have quite a few of the names down. Some of the names are familiar to me and some are a little different. Juscineia is one of the more unusual ones...it seriously took me 3 months to get that down. She's awesome so I have a bit of motivation to remember. </div>
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Sometimes, I get frustrated with my students. I think I'm giving them a valuable and marketable skill with my classes and hopefully a leg up in future life...but they remind me of my children who are more interested in goofing around than having class. One group is doing really well, though. We split it in half - girls/boys and now there is a lot more participation and speaking happening. I like smaller groups no larger than 6 or 7.</div>
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My Portuguese language skills are slowly improving. The people who I really want to talk to are the nuns...and I'm so frustrated with my inability to do that. In addition to the twice a week group classes that I've been taking since February, I've added two different one-on-one teachers this month. And I'm making a point to be more vocal and practice speaking.</div>
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I don't really know anything about the children's home that I volunteer in. Originally, I thought it was an orphanage. And while they do have a handful of teens that live there, the vast majority don't. I realized that on Mother's day when they were making cards for their moms. </div>
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Sometimes people leave their non-slip socks at the trampoline park. Tymon brings them home to me and I wash them. Last Monday, a day when the park is usually closed, the kids from the children's home came to the park on a field trip and we were able to use approximately 80 pair. Three of our kind-hearted employees volunteered their time to come and help supervise them. Plus a couple of the nuns and also a handful of other adults who helped transport all of them.<br />
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They loved it. And Tymon loved holding hands with one of the nuns...he helped steady her on the slack line. Ha ha. He made sure I got a photo of it. Like anyone would believe he's held hands with a nun...or that both of them kissed him (on the cheek) when we left.</div>
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This video reminds me of The Flying Nun. Except no special effects (aside from slow mo) are used.</div>
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These nuns are pretty cool. Last June the PE teacher brought in skate boards for a week...and these beautiful ladies got right on them. I think I just like to imagine nuns being straight-laced. But in reality they are people who like to break up the monotony of the day doing fun stuff.<br />
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Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-35554193163996796632016-08-30T12:08:00.002-07:002016-08-30T12:08:54.927-07:00A Mango By Any Other Name......would taste as sweet. But holy schmoly there are so so so many varieties of mangoes out there. Year round in Sao Paulo (so weird that I've actually been here a year and can say this), two types are in every grocery store produce department and produce market and also street market: Palmer and Tommy. Today at the market there were those plus two more: the Rosa and Bourbon. I've seen other varieties and heard that the Verde ones are awesome...but I haven't tasted that one, yet.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zG02SKt6UC45Tp9i0wUVz8KiZ8l1qUkWtEAiKRmQiYTQqHuHOmLFUh3OkxeUSCQOeEdEMcQn3Pm2uN2s0utn9_lPYfNgzlc-VW7kcUNTr5kOCZdc75dY5M22qB7lJTV_qsNfGOl8MrY/s1600/IMG_20160830_140553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zG02SKt6UC45Tp9i0wUVz8KiZ8l1qUkWtEAiKRmQiYTQqHuHOmLFUh3OkxeUSCQOeEdEMcQn3Pm2uN2s0utn9_lPYfNgzlc-VW7kcUNTr5kOCZdc75dY5M22qB7lJTV_qsNfGOl8MrY/s400/IMG_20160830_140553.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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In order with the bottom photo, there is the Palmer, Tommy, Rosa and Bourbon mangoes. The Bourbon is as tall as my palm...so tiny in comparison to the others. The Palmer is a touch bigger than my hand.</div>
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My favorite is the Rosa, which has been around for about the last month so it must be in season. To me it tastes like a cross between a nectarine straight off the tree and of course, a mango. In short, it's pretty close to heaven. Today the price was R$5 per kilo...or $1.65USD per kilo. I used to remove the skin in a very messy fashion every time I made smoothies...until a Brazilian watched me do it and told me you could eat the skin. So now our Vitamix blends the skin and flesh and my kids fight over who gets to suck on the seed.</div>
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What I wonder is what kind of mango we have in US stores...because I didn't realize there was more than one type before coming to Brazil. Same with bananas...maybe I should do a post on those, too. One produce market I like to go to frequently has at least 5 to 6 varieties of bananas. </div>
Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-84373813370938596422016-03-30T18:26:00.000-07:002016-03-30T18:26:03.242-07:00Fingers Toes and Dedos - A Teensy Graphic Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So there we were, in the middle of Tymon's English class, learning about units of measurement and the appropriate use of "how much" and "how many" when one of our friends asked me to come outside. </div>
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Jocelyn was hurt. She'd been running around and then all of a sudden her foot hurts. And she bled on the stairs. Jocelyn has NO idea if she ran into something or what. She just knows that no one else stepped on her and she wasn't climbing where she shouldn't have been. So weird.</div>
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We had walked to church so one friend drove us home and another told Tymon that we left. It took me a while to be able to clean up Jocelyn's foot enough to figure out the extent of the injury. Was just one toe bleeding? Or two? Did her nail pop off? I just didn't know.</div>
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In fact, just this afternoon, when we cleaned it out again, did I realize that she got cut right above her toenail. And I repeat, this is all a mystery to her. Crazy. She's a trooper for pain, though. Doesn't really complain. Jocelyn told her brother that I said she was brave. Yup. She proved that in the dog bite incident.</div>
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So after I put my wound care stuff away, we had family scriptures and prayer. It should have been bed time, but I looked into the kitchen and saw the mountain of dinner dishes that had been skipped because we had soccer (the boys) and English class at the church. I asked each of the family members if they loved Jocelyn. Everyone said yes. Then I asked them to help her do Jocelyn's chores, which were the dishes and counters.<br />
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We worked together in the kitchen for half an hour. Everyone helping. It was the best family work experience we've ever had. No whining. No complaining. Just showing Jocelyn that we love her.<br />
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After we were done with dishes and counters and wiping cupboards, I showed my kids photos from my trip home a couple of weeks ago. They loved the stories I shared. I told them of the <a href="http://bridgetjohns.blogspot.com.br/2016/03/working-together.html" target="_blank">work party</a> my siblings and I had with my parents. That we each contributed to the best of our abilities. No one was upset that someone else wasn't doing their share. No one whined or complained. We just worked. Together. And it was wonderful.<br />
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Serving Jocelyn showed the boys that not only is it possible to work together and not fight but it's actually enjoyable. They were kind and thoughtful. It's not always like this. In fact, most often it's not. But this time it was. And it was wonderful.Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-46347003552837764172016-03-20T21:30:00.000-07:002016-03-30T18:56:42.429-07:00Working TogetherI went home last week. My myself. To do taxes. And meet up with my siblings to help my parents get a few things accomplished. The week passed quickly. I don't think I slept more than 5 hours each night...because there's no time for the frivolousness of sleep when each day is packed so full.<br />
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My brother picked me up from the airport and we went to my office to find a box that would fit my <a href="http://bridgetjohns.blogspot.com.br/2016/02/vitamix-woes.html" target="_blank">Vitamix</a>...which was really the most important of my plans that needed to be set in motion as soon as I arrived. The UPS guy told me it'd take three days to get to Nevada...which meant there was no way Vitamix would get the package in time to check out my blender and send me a new container.<br />
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My siblings and I haven't been alone with our parents in decades. Yes, we've all been together, but always with other people around, including our own families. It was like a step back in time for me. When I was a daughter instead of a mother. I think the best part about being together was the way in which we worked together.<br />
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Nowadays, when my children have chores, I'm faced with near constant contention. Everyone's into everybody else's business and keeping track of who's worked the most and who's not doing their jobs. I ask for peace, but often add fuel (think raging blow torch) to the flames and make a bonfire. <br />
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So here's the down low. Our parents have collected more than 40 years worth of who-knows-what in their home. It's a lot. I'm pretty sure an episode of Hoarders could be made there. We joke about bringing in a dumpster and my dad gets panicked that we're going to throw out all of his stuff. And we tell him that we'd like to work with him so that we can find out what family history items are there.<br />
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My brothers had a plan when they came over Friday afternoon. I had arrived Wednesday and when we pulled into the driveway that night there was a 2-3 inch deep puddle the size of a car where they usually park their car. So I called the gravel company and had them dump 15 yards (17.000 Kg) in the driveway. My parents had been out that afternoon worried, I'm sure, about what we were doing. We worked all afternoon and evening to get that gravel spread and to fill in the holes that caused big puddles. We also cleaned up the junk storage along the perimeter. They were so surprised. And pleased.<br />
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So, my brothers have some muscle and were able to move the wheel barrows around to dump gravel where it needed to go. I can shovel gravel from a pile into the wheel barrows, but often if I try to move them, I'll tip them over five feet shy of where they should have gone. My sister has some wrist issues and doesn't lift very much at all. So instead of doing what we did as kids by wanting everything equal and fighting to make it so, we accepted where we each were at and focused on what we could each do. While I was filling wheel barrows, my brothers were cleaning junk and my sister was raking gravel. Then my brothers would move loads for me. We worked so well together. I loved it. It's the first time we've ever been all together at the same time doing a project like that. Of course we all work together in the driving school, but this was different. It was truly a labor of love.<br />
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It gives me hope for my kids. Someday, I hope sooner than later, they will figure it out. Just like my siblings and I did. We can do amazing things together when we play to each other's strengths.<br />
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I was disappointed to be leaving without my Vitamix and was making arrangements for our eventual reunion when my brother called me the afternoon before I left and told me UPS had just delivered it. YES! The only problem was that my suitcase was full of stuff from my shopping spree...in my basement. We left a lot of stuff behind. Stuff that I like. But stuff that we didn't have room for. So I repacked a few items. Dropped extra stuff back to my basement. And found myself in possession of two suitcases packed to the limit and a 45 pound carry on.<br />
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As luck would have it, my first flight was totally booked and they asked for at least 15 passengers to check in their carry on luggage. I had been nervous about lifting the bag...I mean I had to make it look easy, right? Ha ha. But it turns out there is no weight limit for carry ons (on United anyway) and so I volunteered. So glad I didn't have to lug that around.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje89UuHU6GOBo0k4iqyy4ycxbo7HvM-npIMMdWEg7r2kCgm-kzei5hXIA05MWi-w6Y2gC_SVAvJRRZ779BDF9U1kPhHf_CJ5cJzVwKT9xLFm4B5JGK7BsO9LqCYuJLQRlmLOiB5AkR7l4/s1600/Elliott+Vitamix+Smoothie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje89UuHU6GOBo0k4iqyy4ycxbo7HvM-npIMMdWEg7r2kCgm-kzei5hXIA05MWi-w6Y2gC_SVAvJRRZ779BDF9U1kPhHf_CJ5cJzVwKT9xLFm4B5JGK7BsO9LqCYuJLQRlmLOiB5AkR7l4/s400/Elliott+Vitamix+Smoothie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And we're back into smoothies! Vitamix is awesome, both the products and company. And no, I don't get paid to say that. Though I wish I did. Today we had a guava lime smoothie. So good. I'm going to have to try that combo again soon.Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-41660113366141842152016-03-10T09:05:00.000-08:002016-03-11T12:48:00.061-08:00Slept On The Floor<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think I was three when I started bringing my blanket to the kitchen to wait for Dad to come home. He worked late and when the house was quiet I'd sneak out of bed and go lay down in front of the refrigerator. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fridge had a couple of things going for it. First, there was a vent under the door that blew out warm air for a few minutes several times each hour. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Second and equally important, the fridge is located in the path of the back door, so when Dad got home, if he didn't see me, he would sometimes trip over my feet when coming into the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm not sure what I liked more, waiting on a chilly night with warm air blowing on me or the snippets of time with my Dad before he carried me to bed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes my siblings would want in on the action. I didn't like sharing my space. Sharing meant I wouldn't always get to be right next to the vent. And the comfort seeker part of me craves that warmth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One day we got a new fridge. I'd never been so disappointed in my short life. The new fridge blew out cold air. What?! If I were making a fridge purchase at that age, a warm air vent would be first on my list of necessary features. I tried to not let the cold air bother me. I tried bringing extra blankets. I tried to like being cold. I just couldn't. My days in front of the fridge waiting up for Dad were over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some people say that when God closes one door, he opens another. I'm my case God one upped the fridge with the furnace. This grate can fit four feet touching it. It has a better and longer lasting air flow. It's perfect, really. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Making the discovery that our dining room furnace vent easily adjusts so a blanket can be attached to the top of it changed my life. No longer was it necessary to hold my blanket over the vent, which can get tiring. But in this new situation I could hunker down, pull the blanket in close around me and still see the blanket billow around my feet...in direct line of the pure unadulterated free flowing warm air. I'm pretty sure this is what's it's going to be like in my comfort seeker's heaven.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In high school, the dining room vent became my go to spot for after school naps. And for those days when I was in the despairs of menstrual cramps, the vent would assuage my pain while I waited for ibuprofen to kick in. It inspired many a homework assignment and numberless books were consumed next to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slept on the floor last night. By
choice. In the dining room of my childhood home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slept on the floor last night. I'm not
stiff and my back doesn't hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slept on the floor last night in the
clothes I’d put on the day before in S</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ão</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Paulo. Because the thought of removing them sent shivers down my spine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slept on the floor last night. With an
afghan, a comforter and a quilt trapping the furnace's warm offering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slept on the floor last night. With
warmth and comfort and memories, my inner-child in the old family home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slept on the floor last night snuggling
with the dining room furnace vent.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-80764212174137520132016-02-29T17:34:00.001-08:002016-02-29T17:34:27.902-08:00Vitamix Woes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Jocelyn was so excited to make a dessert smoothie for our family night treat tonight. I mean she's been talking about it for two days. All. Day. Long. Elliott helps her and they get all the good stuff in there...mango, avocado, passion fruit...ice. Lots of ice. And a spoon.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0YwATbdma4O6U_GsxCsnEz8om-HQDiXPFZaVWRfp_Jaoez9yfmg5bpuKuKABO8-G3rBzscngExjHw9lINRH_D9QFMEsH7IkSQXzH4MUeob6llT67RX6xPJKNOHzRbQ78HYwOcy7zfTY/s1600/Busted+Vitamix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0YwATbdma4O6U_GsxCsnEz8om-HQDiXPFZaVWRfp_Jaoez9yfmg5bpuKuKABO8-G3rBzscngExjHw9lINRH_D9QFMEsH7IkSQXzH4MUeob6llT67RX6xPJKNOHzRbQ78HYwOcy7zfTY/s400/Busted+Vitamix.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A spoon? Yes. She feels super bad. As she should. We cannot have smoothies for a few weeks. Possibly months.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgVtwsQWj9T1Hgddmo3vC1ojVC3YiTgQsfOw6jZ_1pfoLBwcizSjHARwm5Lj2j7RW_hAVqSC4FaCutbLNGNleuSumqW-4hTwnG6QkYRfHJJbF9oVyjxgdYp0HVNispC23Jm4xOeux2fE/s1600/Busted+Vitamix+Container+Spoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgVtwsQWj9T1Hgddmo3vC1ojVC3YiTgQsfOw6jZ_1pfoLBwcizSjHARwm5Lj2j7RW_hAVqSC4FaCutbLNGNleuSumqW-4hTwnG6QkYRfHJJbF9oVyjxgdYp0HVNispC23Jm4xOeux2fE/s400/Busted+Vitamix+Container+Spoon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Look at that hole! Did you have any idea the blender's blade would push a spoon right on out the side of the container?</div>
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I'm pleased with myself. I didn't yell. Or scream. Or even cry...though I might be doing all of that if the sorry tale I just wrote to Vitamix about doesn't fall under the machine's 7 year warranty (we're only halfway through). Because living in Brasil with tons of inexpensive and delicious fruits begging to be consumed is not worth living without a Vitamix. It just isn't.</div>
Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143246399058466248.post-39084102366081561852016-02-20T19:21:00.001-08:002016-02-20T19:21:22.417-08:00HortiFruti - Produce Market<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There were too many finds at the produce market this past week for me to fill my newsfeed...I think the cashiers think I'm funny. I just find random fruits and vegetables and I buy them. </div>
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Then in the check out line I ask for some additional information. Not too much. My Portuguese language skills are lacking. But just enough. </div>
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Like, is this a fruit? Vegetable? Oh you don't know what ve-ge-tuh-bul means? Let me try that with a different accent. Nope. Hmm. She says legume. Yes! That's what I want to know. Fruta ou legume? But she doesn't know so she asks the lady at the next register. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhygQ-GsQhEbzvezFgTv546pPaZfPeXrgkpPRa4Aupwyh5V15cn-cIlhaw82UeuG-Fn-VH9lmJL7N-WYkEvvB1R0ZFjhbfYosauBRwHUWTZbXKOXL60ch9QNVRtWMssXRryAmxhlsJmDl8/s1600/Brazil+Caxi+Legume+Vegetable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhygQ-GsQhEbzvezFgTv546pPaZfPeXrgkpPRa4Aupwyh5V15cn-cIlhaw82UeuG-Fn-VH9lmJL7N-WYkEvvB1R0ZFjhbfYosauBRwHUWTZbXKOXL60ch9QNVRtWMssXRryAmxhlsJmDl8/s400/Brazil+Caxi+Legume+Vegetable.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Caxi - big and round and what is it??? I don't know but I put it in a chicken and bacon cream dish and it came out tasting a bit like potatoes. The waxy firm kind. Delicious.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolcCq_Z8LdkgG0Nb8MP_GXG2P-M9UKDFfM_y36uG6OdKNU4N-WoKi5__MyNVd182qpHyIJOSYY0mm_3wxyCH04DtBgjb-C3bxCzgO6s80xIqpXHVEMshE7Svfcjl9VSLvUgGsEU6gWe0/s1600/Brazil+fruit+Cidra+%2526+Kino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolcCq_Z8LdkgG0Nb8MP_GXG2P-M9UKDFfM_y36uG6OdKNU4N-WoKi5__MyNVd182qpHyIJOSYY0mm_3wxyCH04DtBgjb-C3bxCzgO6s80xIqpXHVEMshE7Svfcjl9VSLvUgGsEU6gWe0/s400/Brazil+fruit+Cidra+%2526+Kino.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Kino - they had green and orange ones. I didn't buy the orange one because there was a bad spot on it. And at R$10 or USD $2.50 each, I wasn't going to buy more than one. It's really pretty on the inside. Definitely fruity but reminded me a little bit of a cucumber. We all tried it and Jocelyn slurped up the rest of it. She really liked it.<br />
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Cidra or citron....like a sour lemon with the thickest rind you ever saw. The white part was flavorless. But the citrus part was great...and seedy. So we just licked it a little bit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPbotQ5caml9ZjDO22rTzUy0KJaeBNFxH3KgIVovrWZ2-5RdeeuHFZiPVKuolVE6H5p7nD8tmrQXNo5Ujm-DJ9NcOXD64m-jv19MjkEeQ4B7WDD9ywDzDxDb_yh8YBPzyt864PjX3s2-I/s1600/Brazil+fruit+vegetables+abobora+de+agua+broto+de+bambu+caxi+cidra+citron+kino+abobora.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPbotQ5caml9ZjDO22rTzUy0KJaeBNFxH3KgIVovrWZ2-5RdeeuHFZiPVKuolVE6H5p7nD8tmrQXNo5Ujm-DJ9NcOXD64m-jv19MjkEeQ4B7WDD9ywDzDxDb_yh8YBPzyt864PjX3s2-I/s640/Brazil+fruit+vegetables+abobora+de+agua+broto+de+bambu+caxi+cidra+citron+kino+abobora.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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So there are some huge avocados here. I made an avocado orange smoothie with one (tasted like candy) and guacamole with the other. The abobora reminded me of zucchini. They call it a winter melon. I didn't peel it before putting it in a noodle dish, but I think it would've been better if I had.</div>
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And the bamboo shoot. That brown skin was silky smooth furry. I really liked it. I've actually never seen fresh bamboo shoot before. Only in small cans in the Asian section of the supermarket at home. I looked up how to cook it (for about an hour submerged in the milky white water that rice gives off as you rinse it). I put it in a fried rice which everyone ate at dinner but no one wanted for lunch the next day. I liked it fresh but sadly didn't want later, either. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6n6pmSrH98tGBigopEveDObYXJBOBAo5gs8yPYcKOqohE8xH_61DAXJAev8pGtRBAK9LTUW24gBdMp3s5CO2zXseaLlFB2-sGoaHSZd7uXvfs_DgAd0vyi3XZdk0vEuFNrbxKtB5d5k/s1600/Brazilian+Banana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6n6pmSrH98tGBigopEveDObYXJBOBAo5gs8yPYcKOqohE8xH_61DAXJAev8pGtRBAK9LTUW24gBdMp3s5CO2zXseaLlFB2-sGoaHSZd7uXvfs_DgAd0vyi3XZdk0vEuFNrbxKtB5d5k/s320/Brazilian+Banana.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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These bananas are growing in a random neighborhood park near our home. We pass by every Sunday as we walk home from church. They used to be as big as one of my fingers. Now they're thickening up a bit. I hope in a few weeks or whenever they're ready, I'll be able to eat one. Because that's just so cool to have bananas growing in a park. So random.Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17064616370181183885noreply@blogger.com0