tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35824268492169691922024-02-08T04:52:23.258+00:00Mining for JemsOpening my window on the world.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.comBlogger283125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-88200731121488498312012-07-27T09:25:00.000+01:002012-07-27T09:25:38.699+01:00Chocolate Avalanche CakeIt's a tradition in our family for me and Andy to make the children the biggest, chocolatiest (is that a word?!), most outrageous cakes for their birthdays. We figure, hey, you have one birthday a year, you're only a child for a short time, so what the heck - when it comes to birthday cakes - it has to be a whopper.<br />
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But Sam bowed out this year, opting for a shop bought Manchester United cake. It was a hard journey taking that to the till and paying for it, my heart sinking with every step knowing that my 7 year old son had rejected family tradition.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFN-3MgetaZ9kDW0OwjurNdHk6sHHqgIgcTRgxtsnx-Mf3qIq3XA4Y2DkIVJ8F-GOUEu8fHC03Wdf1ZmhoRnDY4bwWqcx89pFzfBBMgT-WILeUgpP86ZpXthEvHxtVG4nWz83k9b6RsVbz/s1600/chocolate+avalanche+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFN-3MgetaZ9kDW0OwjurNdHk6sHHqgIgcTRgxtsnx-Mf3qIq3XA4Y2DkIVJ8F-GOUEu8fHC03Wdf1ZmhoRnDY4bwWqcx89pFzfBBMgT-WILeUgpP86ZpXthEvHxtVG4nWz83k9b6RsVbz/s320/chocolate+avalanche+cake.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But three weeks later, Eleanor rose to the challenge of requesting the family favourite. It always starts with just me decorating it, but by the time it's finished the whole family is usually crowded around, adding a bit here and another bit there. It's become a really fun family time and a tradition where the birthday child gets to decorate their cake before going to bed the night before their birthday - even in Eleanor's case when it was way past bedtime and the final malteser went on at 10.15pm.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>It was named the avalanche cake because when you cut through to get a slice, the maltesers tumble down, so you have to position your plate right to catch them. The slices are also too big to fit on a side plate - so totally over the top, so grotesquely indulgent, but like I said, it's only once a year.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-37697773121896072762012-07-23T13:04:00.001+01:002012-07-23T13:07:27.089+01:00The Lonesome RiserI've been so elated that school finished for the children on Friday that I got into a rather lovely mindset of relaxation and chilling at the weekend, knowing we didn't have to get them ready for school today. Then it dawned on me that I was the only one who had to get up early all this week. My elation has now deflated - and made worse in the knowledge that apparently on Saturday the weather won't be nice and sunny anymore.<br />
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Still, Andy's home with the kids this week so I'm hoping they make the most of the sun.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-10877707202246396992012-07-03T09:57:00.000+01:002012-07-03T09:57:30.021+01:00A Spotty Birthday Beckons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmxZaJCwW-1WNp5UemSPncgJHVQ8s5-uHqK6U5ASO_fTQBEzjyaXGYgh_tyc0KKPWIv2WsMySU8tppm2uF_xrDiglh1An3y8JU2tJtpjSX7H92L-0A8CNlQTxQZjsSF8J-jl2F5yzODfk/s1600/chicken+pox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmxZaJCwW-1WNp5UemSPncgJHVQ8s5-uHqK6U5ASO_fTQBEzjyaXGYgh_tyc0KKPWIv2WsMySU8tppm2uF_xrDiglh1An3y8JU2tJtpjSX7H92L-0A8CNlQTxQZjsSF8J-jl2F5yzODfk/s1600/chicken+pox.jpg" /></a></div>Our house is a noisy house, a busy house and most of all a messy house. A complete contrast to the house of my childhood. The normal order of life doesn't quite make it through our front door most days and whilst it would drive the sanity of some through the window, Family Loizou have a tendency to thrive quite well on it. <br />
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It has taken me many years to learn that most people don't visit your house to inspect it, and half the mess I see, they don't even notice. I've always wanted my home to be a bustling, busy and happy one. A home where people come in and feel at home flomping themselves on the sofa, chilling in the kitchen having a coffee or just coming and going. <br />
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The kids friends have mastered the art quite well. Quite a few of our adult friends have too.<br />
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But there are days you have to put an embargo on house visits and today's eruption of chicken pox spots all over Sam's body have resulted in doorstep interrogations before anybody can enter. I don't like it. I don't like the odds of potentially telling somebody they can't come in. So far we've been OK. All who have entered have had the pox so this week, where every day we have friends over for tea, we're able to go ahead. Sam's feeling quite chirpy, although a little itchy. He has a birthday coming up on Thursday which he'll be spending at home (this news was met with a resounding 'YES!!' when he was told). We just need prayers that all his spots will be dried over before the start of Beaver Camp on Saturday, otherwise the little fella might have to miss out, which will be a rather sad end to an otherwise really great week for him.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-18329359696791032772012-05-20T15:12:00.000+01:002012-05-20T15:19:15.826+01:00Becoming tolerant of the intolerance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipqQ4Ns0eyBsXJ9aHhO0ipyFCX4EEqxWfbRpEskl3ALukPpHVLIHYer_8wKYN5Qph5yDzp6R-SCMp-EyQcQkhx9-IEb9M3PUkUKie_zXCwaKQDNQE918LnJieWjVHag-Vb_uPCuB53jP8/s1600/no+dairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipqQ4Ns0eyBsXJ9aHhO0ipyFCX4EEqxWfbRpEskl3ALukPpHVLIHYer_8wKYN5Qph5yDzp6R-SCMp-EyQcQkhx9-IEb9M3PUkUKie_zXCwaKQDNQE918LnJieWjVHag-Vb_uPCuB53jP8/s1600/no+dairy.jpg" /></a></div>
I've been dairy intolerant since I was a child. I grew up knowing that if I drank a glass of milk I'd get stomach cramps and associated digestive problems. (We won't go into detail here!) My mother always commented to me that if I didn't get my calcium intake I'd end up with rickety bones, so I would have the odd milky coffee or cheese sandwich just to keep her worry at bay. Over the years I became complacent about my symptoms and although I suffered I never made much of a deal about it and certainly never saw fit to share my experience and condition with those around me.<br />
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Fast forward a few years and I found myself managing a young baby with severe dairy intolerance, soya intolerance and adverse reaction to msg. It was nothing short of a nightmare - endless trips to the doctors and endless cases of misdiagnosis. It was a usual thing to get through a packet of nappies PER DAY. Constant vomiting, failure to thrive and at the worst point, a test for Leukemia. Fast forward two years and an eventual referral to a paediatric dietician confirmed my suspicions as I noticed he displayed symptoms within an hour of eating. Seven years of a strict exclusion diet for him followed (during which child number 3 was born and displayed similar symptoms and was fortunately diagnosed and managed much earlier). I went out of my way to make foods for them at home that were as close to the shop examples as possible. Sourcing a health food shop miles away that stocked a safe ice-cream, making bread for sandwiches, swapping food parcels with an online friend in Texas who had things I needed in exchange for goods the UK had that her daughter needed. It was worrying, exhausting and expensive.<br />
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Over 90% of the food stocks in shops ten years ago were not suitable for my children to eat and food manufacturers were not required, as they are today, to label allergens. It was all done by reading labels, researching the ingredients and finding out what E number to avoid. It was alarming to find that the UK were still allowing additives to their foods that the American government and many European governments, in particular Switzerland, Sweden and Germany had banned. Food that was rarely labelled 'dairy free', in fact wasn't - it was just lactose free - the sugar in the milk, not the protein. I spent many a night up until the early hours either reading or cooking to make sure I protected my children as much as I could. Invitations to parties would consisnt of me ringing the mother, not only to ask what the child wanted for a present, but also to check out the party food menu, so I could recreate a safe replica on a party plate for the children to enjoy so they didn't miss out. <br />
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Being a hereditary condition, it is a major contributory factor to two of my children having to deal with it. They've pretty much outgrown their intolerances, but if they overload, they know it. So you'd think that with my own experience, that of my two children and the increase of my own symptoms over the last two years I'd have realised what was creeping back up on me again.<br />
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So, about two years of trips to the doctor to find out why I'm putting on weight and not losing it despite diet and exercise, why I'm constantly wiped out and tired, why I have digestive problem and returning dark rings under my eyes, it dawned on me that the intolerance has returned. A quick blood test to check and bingo, zero tolerance of the stuff. My diet is now being revised - I'm fortunately able to do this without a referral to a nutritionist or dietician as I'm experienced with it, but it hasn't stopped me doing my research to make sure the chemical food names for milk proteins haven't changed. It's a minefield - milk is in pretty much 70% or more of the food in the shops. Lactose is obvious and labelled well, but milk protein is the hidden demon. Did you know that milk protein is added to potatoes to make them taste like smoky bacon? Did you know that milk is injected into meat to make it easeir to slice? Did you know that milk is added to soya alternatives to bulk out the protein as the soya itself is far too concentrated? So, if you're dairy intolerant and turn to a soya alternative, you're likely to experience the same symptoms. Did you know that anything labelled 'flavouring' is likely to be made from whey protein, which is milk? This is just the tip of the iceberg.<br />
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We're so used to just picking up food and consuming it - we're not aware of the ridiculous amount of additives that are added to flavour our food and the misleading part is that they're all either scientifically named in such a way we have no clue or they're called 'natural flavouring'. Without knowing their derivative source, we really have no clue what we're pumping into our bodies. The return of my symptoms has reawakened the call in me to seriously readdress what I'm feeding myself and my family. 50% of my family suffer and I'm responsible for the majority of what they eat.<br />
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So, for the next few weeks, the household shopping will be replacing many items and much closer attention will be paid to milk, soya and even msg (a signicant addition to food that caused my elder son as an infant to be excessively aggressive) and is now believed to be a significant contributor to primary serious liver disease.<br />
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Next time you pick up a jar of sauce from your larder or eat a bag of crisps, have a look at the label. You'll be surprised (and maybe a bit horrified), to see what the manufacturers have added to it to make it so 'tasty'.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-31835516629381185362012-03-18T17:19:00.000+00:002012-03-18T17:19:09.449+00:00Drummer on the motorway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6BzW693a-xY4JJLYQLKX3EekOi-or-3IteGqhiR_N1KiM32uHmH9x3W-_bv4kvuWdVi15xNYxujAsAdFaKBqBpC3tSPlbnqIxcJooE38BEt1UX1ZjGEz9Ia9xKj3T-MzGjsBs5S1_n4nl/s1600/motorway+drummer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6BzW693a-xY4JJLYQLKX3EekOi-or-3IteGqhiR_N1KiM32uHmH9x3W-_bv4kvuWdVi15xNYxujAsAdFaKBqBpC3tSPlbnqIxcJooE38BEt1UX1ZjGEz9Ia9xKj3T-MzGjsBs5S1_n4nl/s200/motorway+drummer.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>My evening plans last night were scuppered when I turned east-bound onto the M4 only to hit an enormous queue of stationary traffic. The fact the west-bound carriageway was empty didn't bode well and considering some people had already got out of their cars and started wandering around, I realised we were in for a very long wait. I hit the traffic at 4.30pm and after speaking with other drivers were told the carriageway would open at 5.15pm. That didn't seem so bad - until we found out that was the other side and that they hadn't cleared the accident our side yet. Two accidents, same motorway, both directions. Our side was due to open at the earliest, 8.30pm.<br />
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Amidst the gloom, the concern that people were seriously hurt and general banter amongst the crowd, about four cars back I heard lots of laughing and before I knew it, some guy had got out part of his drum kit, hopped it over the crash barrier into the middle of the abandoned motorway, set up and started playing. <br />
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Eleanor and Sam thought this was fantastic - not only were they allowed to walk on the motorway, but also cross the barrier to watch him play. Quite a crowd formed and even a dog joined the audience too!<br />
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Before long the motorway the other side opened and traffic resumed, leaving us to sit tight for another hour. In that time, having seen the children, two adults from different vehicles approached me and offered a Yorkie bar, Pringles, orange juice and a can of coke for the children to share as they were worried they would having nothing to eat or drink the whole while. They really were very kind. But before long, blue lights flashed behind us, and the police turned us around. I've never had to do that before and it felt very wierd to drive along the hard shoulder the wrong way before being diverted off through crash barriers onto another carriageway.<br />
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So, the evening plans changed, but an experience, quite oddly, I enjoyed.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-45607650344489807952012-02-28T22:45:00.001+00:002012-02-28T22:46:04.047+00:00OptionsLast night, Joshua brought home the option pathway recommended by his school which will lead to the best possible outcome for GCSE success. It took me back to 1986 when I took my GCSE options. I still vividly recall how my academic year across the country were the first to take the transition from GCEs and CSEs to plain GCSEs. The doubts and criticisms that they would be easy, worry that coursework would be abused and undertaken by relatives and friends and that the exams would be soft. Concern that employers would not take them seriously and that within a decade the educational establishments would realise their error and revert back to the old system, leaving me and thousands of others with seemingly useless qualifications. How wrong they were.<br />
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Looking through Joshua's option paths I found myself longing to be back at school. I envied him slightly that he's now starting the point in life where his choices become important. Reading through the subject summaries I found myself excited at the content of some of the courses, and at times got rather carried away trying to convince him how interesting and exciting some subjects were, which inevitably turned out to be the subjects he's really not interested in! Looking at the History content, he liked the course, but did not relish the idea of writing long essays, the same for the compulsory English Literature. I was baffled. Strange boy! How could he possibly find essay writing a chore? I still remember walking into my A'level English Literature exam literally champing at the bit to get started on the four essays I had to write in three hours - was I mad? Probably.<br />
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I'm thrilled he's being forced to do a language. Seems cruel, I know, but I have the benefit of parental hindsight. My bitterness at not being allowed to do languages because apparently getting 91% in German and 27% in French supposedly meant I didn't have a grasp of languages, so because I failed French I wasn't allowed to take the German GCSE I so passionately wanted to do. To this day it still baffles and angers me. I'm glad that Joshua has to learn a second language - it's a skill he'll be grateful for one day. To my delight he favours German. He's getting the chance I never had.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8Ee3eHxY6LGWesrNIZpBm4GQOiHs0IqAJF_iC6Vkvxz9cPEC0JNKYKCSOB1K3o1FS6QJWrSiAQEdJpUkd0A9WkkLgewZIxUodM4XrjhhNCWGFWfdCAgbY1-mKJImdHzIYW5YtI1NOUv3/s1600/study.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8Ee3eHxY6LGWesrNIZpBm4GQOiHs0IqAJF_iC6Vkvxz9cPEC0JNKYKCSOB1K3o1FS6QJWrSiAQEdJpUkd0A9WkkLgewZIxUodM4XrjhhNCWGFWfdCAgbY1-mKJImdHzIYW5YtI1NOUv3/s200/study.jpg" width="200" /></a>In sciences he prefers physics and chemistry. I was a biology fan. He likes Maths and all things technical. I liked all things creative.<br />
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But what I really like is that he has sat with me, talked with me and discussed his feelings about subjects, what he loves, what he hates, where his strengths are, where his weaknesses are, his doubts, his fears, his worries and his concern at getting halfway through courses and being disillusioned. I'm finding it a privilege that he is sharing all this with me and not just ticking random boxes or picking subjects that he's comfortable with or naturally gifted at in an attempt to get the decision making done and out of the way. He's impressed me with how mature he's being about it all. He has a few weeks to choose, so now I'm stepping back for a few days to let him work out his own routes. I'll be there to support him, to advise him and where necessary to push him, but ultimately, the choices are his.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-79250204327855033402012-02-22T13:30:00.003+00:002012-02-28T21:56:23.838+00:00Dib Dib DibFollowing last week's exciting moment where Sam became a <i>real</i> Beaver Scout after his investiture, which involved receiving his woggle, badges and learning to shake hands as a lefty, he proudly came home from school earlier in the week with a notification from that as it was World Thinking Day on the 22nd, he was allowed to wear his Beaver uniform to school. <br />
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He has waited with excited anticipation for me to sew the badges onto his sweater for a few days now, but last night because I was only halfway through putting them on when it became bedtime, I had to promise him I would absolutely,without fail, ensure they were sewn on ready for the morning. His excitement and reliance on me to carry out my promise struck me. He's just a little dude, no real worries and no concerns about life, according to me, an adult. Important things to him are being allowed to play on the monkey bars at school, being allowed to watch a DVD in Mum and Dad's bed before bedtime and making sure badges are sewn on a jumper in time to display them at school. The funny thing is, none of them are achievement badges or skills badges, just the Scout logo, and the district, county and colony badge - but they were still important to him and my promise was clung to.<br />
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It's easy to get carried away with the seemingly major important things in life and to forget the little things that really matter. To Sam it REALLY mattered that these badges were on in time, so last night, after finishing the last badge I went quietly into his room to see if he was awake and he was - just about. Holding the jumper up to his weary eyes I whispered to him that they were all done and ready for him to wear the next day. A huge smile appeared, the eyes opened widely and I received the most enormous hug and kiss.<br />
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It was a special moment. There's plenty of time left yet for him to worry about the things I consider big.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-8866724133920323532012-02-15T20:02:00.000+00:002012-02-15T20:02:52.091+00:00Valentines Day - Romantic or Ridiculous<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qwF8GqRslOdW1aok78-ECjGwY5JpkzWwgEfEJveN9W61kQo09wCCsylxGgh5gCicw69WiWIJdGDD2KUQH36Q7XfyITKb645v2iJdZrKZlnnU_NuCA5TxttvLig2ixoyMyM2BPZrwBQpZ/s1600/hearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qwF8GqRslOdW1aok78-ECjGwY5JpkzWwgEfEJveN9W61kQo09wCCsylxGgh5gCicw69WiWIJdGDD2KUQH36Q7XfyITKb645v2iJdZrKZlnnU_NuCA5TxttvLig2ixoyMyM2BPZrwBQpZ/s200/hearts.jpg" width="200" /></a>With the passing of Valentine's Day yesterday I was again bemused by the plethora of differing attitudes and reactions one date in our calendar can invoke. Many years ago, when I was very young, I was firmly in the camp that the day was purely set aside for the desperate separates of society clinging fast to the hope that somebody somewhere was soppy enough and dopey enough to waste money trying to convince them they were a good catch! The card shop windows swamped with cute teddies and giant love hearts caused a shake of the head and a small laugh as men all over the town centre were rushing around with bunches of red roses under one arm, chocolates under another and a Clinton's carrier bag hanging off their fingers. I often wondered how they'd stop the roses wilting in their offices for the next few hours and whether they'd get home in time to make it to the restaurant with the 'special' menu for the night at the bargain price of 50% more than the usual specials of the night - because that was romantic - apparently.<br />
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Then I got married.<br />
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And for the first few years I stood firm to my belief it was all a load of nonsense and got nothing.<br />
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Then I started to get the hump.<br />
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People started saying that you didn't need a special day to declare your love to the one you love, as you should do that every day. Yes, you should. You should tell the one you love that you love them. It's not necessary to do it<i> every</i> day (some may disagree), but it should be regularly enough for them to be in no doubt that you <i>do</i> love them. In this respect Andy far outranks me in that - he's the more sentimental of the two of us. Having recently attended The Marriage Course, it was firmly established that Andy thrives on affirmation and words of love, I thrive on practical stuff - presents. Does that make me shallow and a prime candidate for the lure of the Clinton card shop, Thornton's selection and Interflora roses - well, yes, apparently it does! <br />
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I never thought I'd see the day I'd back down to admit it, but I now love Valentine's Day - to an extent.<br />
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Looking into the origins of Valentine's Day it seems the most common opinion is that Emperor Claudius II decided that marriage turned men into useless wimps, unable to man up to the requirements of war and thus outlawed that all young men should be banned from the banns. Apparently young Valentine, who is rumoured to have been one of three men in history, but commonly believed to be a priest, continued in secret to marry young people, believing the institution of marriage to be firmly part of God's plan for humankind, thus opposing the beliefs and instructions of the Emperor, who at the time had a rather strong penchant for chopping the heads off the odd Christian or two. Legend has it that the Emperor took exception to this and imprisoned the priest and from there the rumours abound. Some believe Valentine fell in love with the jailer's daughter and before his execution wrote her a note declaring his love, signing it 'from your Valentine'. A hopeless romantic dying for the love of his love. Others believe the Emperor actually rather liked him, until he tried to convert him to Christianity, at which point he incensed the Emperor who ordered his execution, thus martyring him - the date of death established in both cases as February 14th. Others believe that February 14th was declared Valentine's Day as an alternative to the following day's pagan festival of Lupercalia, believed to increase the fertility of women who were flogged with the blood soaked hides of sacrificed goats - but from there I digress and leave you to your own research on that one.<br />
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So, Valentine's Day. Romantic or Ridiculous? A bit of both really. But for me, the ridiculous is fast being overtaken by the romantic. It can be as expensive or as cheap as you want it to be, but for one day of the year, to make an effort to do something for the one you love is surely not too much. Which leads me to my earlier comment of loving Valentine's Day - to an extent. Keep it fun, keep it within budget and keep it with someone truly special.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-81499954217693739512012-02-15T18:23:00.000+00:002012-02-15T18:23:45.845+00:00A tale of two LukesDo you ever get those days when you can leave something lying around for ages, then one day, somebody will make a random comment that sets you on a trail of research and discovery? <br />
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I had that this morning.<br />
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I'm reading through the gospel of Luke and have taken to using some notes that are designed for both groups and individuals, which are entitled Luke, A New Hope. Andy noticed them and asked if I realised that the Star Wars episode that introduces Luke Skywalker is also called A New Hope. I had no idea, but it did make me wonder whether George Lucas had an upbringing based upon a Biblical faith and lo and behold I found out he had a strong Methodist upbringing. Later in life he turned to heavily basing his Star Wars 'force' on Eastern philosophies, eventually declaring himself a Buddhist Methodist.<br />
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Whether Luke, the gospel writer and Luke Skywalker were ever connected in George Lucas's mind, who knows? But I found it rather intriguing.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-88967270162988266452012-01-08T20:53:00.004+00:002012-01-09T10:34:37.098+00:00Prayers From Pocket Sized PeopleKids Church started up again today and I was so thrilled to be on rota for the first week. I always find it harder coming on rota halfway through a topic as the momentum has already built up and for me it's like opening a book halfway through or flicking over to a good film an hour in. <br />
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The children at our church are a fabulous bunch. They play well together, they listen well and they talk well - sometimes too well and it's hard to get them to be quiet. But it's their openness, honesty and limitless spirit of exposure that impresses me each time I sit with them or have them surrounding me when I speak, hand out drinks, or whatever is needed at the time.<br />
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We have a tendency as adults to overlook children. They are a significant part of God's church and we need to be mindful of their place, presence, giftings, encouragements and worries. Today we introduced the topic of prayer and in particular, The Lord's Prayer. When all the fun and games had ended we split the children into year clusters and I had an interesting conversation with three children from years 5 and 6. Having filled in a Prayer Survey together we compared our results and I was impressed at how honest these children were and how incredibly open they were and at ease explaining why they'd answered questions a certain way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfLbEP7n4ujx2CkI16iF1JwgR6f7oh8pcf_AYQEa5Pw4fcLYDVuaSRVqCh-Tp-KCqDt8X4V40TkYe9XcSesBUteIWVLJNZTrnmach26B8o-Rckrrui5ibnDFBbdzP3SgEqSAr-JtjSESLG/s1600/david+and+goliath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfLbEP7n4ujx2CkI16iF1JwgR6f7oh8pcf_AYQEa5Pw4fcLYDVuaSRVqCh-Tp-KCqDt8X4V40TkYe9XcSesBUteIWVLJNZTrnmach26B8o-Rckrrui5ibnDFBbdzP3SgEqSAr-JtjSESLG/s200/david+and+goliath.jpg" width="132" /></a>But one comment saddened me. One boy said that often he felt God didn't answer his prayers or even at times listen to them because in his words, 'I'm just small and I think he misses me out sometimes because of that'. He seemed resigned to the fact that adults got more answers and got what they wanted from God because they stood out, they have all the right words, the terminology, can stand up longer and string a good dialogue together. Adults had more need of answered prayer because their lives were more complicated, they needed more help with work, homes, running families and so on. So I reminded him of David and Goliath. How God had taken the puniest kid on the block, a shepherd who most likely had less meat on him than a scrag end of lamb, but who God saw enormous potential in. I explained that if, like David, his heart was for God and his faith was big, the size of his body was not in the equation and that he could stand next to the biggest guy in church and still be as mighty before God.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit63rsb09UNDn1Pys-YDFzSybHvxdL4DZ4c7dwNmeiDZt6vhWooE_SrNd0Hhq6KK4uVqPj9p2q19cEimQGnfKa2zi2fgHgcxXLtIlkc5roqYkQ8S4MnrbrIColFuI14QBsCUxRYPOGjJlR/s1600/encouragement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit63rsb09UNDn1Pys-YDFzSybHvxdL4DZ4c7dwNmeiDZt6vhWooE_SrNd0Hhq6KK4uVqPj9p2q19cEimQGnfKa2zi2fgHgcxXLtIlkc5roqYkQ8S4MnrbrIColFuI14QBsCUxRYPOGjJlR/s200/encouragement.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I'm passionate about the children in our church. God willing they will be our future leaders, worship team, kids workers and evangelists. We need to build, encourage and show them that being pint sized doesn't mean being puny before God. I'm looking forward to being on rota this term and seeing them learn about how they can stand before God, bold, courageous and full of faith, knowing that He hears every little word they utter when they speak with Him.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-60049311695037695772011-12-24T20:49:00.002+00:002011-12-24T20:56:14.729+00:00Reindeer and Rejoicing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOvFuvM0xRc-FVsx509E0R6JgVlxUj1mqja5yt8Ngot2YnKAKb4UOFvqjED9mnnyxPjLGnO-e3hWSUJEolbBWWUFHjBGy_BzdHtPgbGXE6FCXy9ZfAL4xJHf6AsG8t1cwLE4VWPqBIzQS/s1600/PC240154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOvFuvM0xRc-FVsx509E0R6JgVlxUj1mqja5yt8Ngot2YnKAKb4UOFvqjED9mnnyxPjLGnO-e3hWSUJEolbBWWUFHjBGy_BzdHtPgbGXE6FCXy9ZfAL4xJHf6AsG8t1cwLE4VWPqBIzQS/s200/PC240154.JPG" width="200" /></a>The children have been busy today - making sure the house is tidy for Santa's arrival, baking cakes to share with family members tomorrow, wrapping last minute presents and hiding them under the tree.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyYFd-RryaRjg87mZ6m5t2VZ7j0giSZctCBRyWsBLDAGyvBdfCNhR5AYg_UjW-IUcgUixOvj_2L6_1H3EWWg_4q2fI1c7-AJZVOIf0WVy_zIZApj4iYfKpZb7d2z-kO4pI6oVkMBhJOg2f/s1600/PC240202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyYFd-RryaRjg87mZ6m5t2VZ7j0giSZctCBRyWsBLDAGyvBdfCNhR5AYg_UjW-IUcgUixOvj_2L6_1H3EWWg_4q2fI1c7-AJZVOIf0WVy_zIZApj4iYfKpZb7d2z-kO4pI6oVkMBhJOg2f/s200/PC240202.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Christmas Eve here is fun. As soon as it's dark we sprinkle the glittered oats out on the path, so the moonlight can catch it and Rudolph and friends can see the twinkling from afar. When he gets a bit nearer to the house, Santa can see the Reindeer Runway that's lit on the path, so he knows where to make his landing. We don't have a chimney so Santa can't land on our roof, so we make a nice runway to the front door instead, ready for his Christmas key to unlock the door and let himself in. The key only works Christmas Eve and once the presents are delivered, it doesn't work again until next Christmas Eve.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_m7G-OY8mgg0fzaMXsuFd6252YjnxqEd8pr7KyvdLhkwLUZ5Z3rQQYSoEX8GrArJT8lMdTOZcjAPUM5o1HNj3d3J9-MK6cx_L6hcP-nU8dBrle8bRkx-LC7rkL2D3laFwBXSr3PjpYPb/s1600/PC240163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_m7G-OY8mgg0fzaMXsuFd6252YjnxqEd8pr7KyvdLhkwLUZ5Z3rQQYSoEX8GrArJT8lMdTOZcjAPUM5o1HNj3d3J9-MK6cx_L6hcP-nU8dBrle8bRkx-LC7rkL2D3laFwBXSr3PjpYPb/s200/PC240163.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Snacks and drinks are left just in case Santa and the reindeer are feeling peckish, stockings are hung on beds and last snuggles are had cosied up on the sofa before heading to bed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH5EeofpKS-GAPPoLzmaAQOGhq2Z0hya-keR6d91yHmc92V5iGgAdeE9PeuASuuHypffJtwTw8JEWBEiFYU4gZGEouCWY-mWLdZmylXi9d-7kJXZsUmMsJTOFbaT2l1ieASOO_1zQ_QpYK/s1600/IMG_9345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH5EeofpKS-GAPPoLzmaAQOGhq2Z0hya-keR6d91yHmc92V5iGgAdeE9PeuASuuHypffJtwTw8JEWBEiFYU4gZGEouCWY-mWLdZmylXi9d-7kJXZsUmMsJTOFbaT2l1ieASOO_1zQ_QpYK/s200/IMG_9345.JPG" width="200" /></a>Eleanor and Sam are hopefully on their way to sleep now, ready for an exciting day ahead. The older two are still up, enjoying a few nibbles and trying to hide their excitement, which two hours ago, they both admitted was at 7/10 on the scale. My friend Michaela is over, sharing Christmas Eve with us as she does most years and later me and her will head off to the parish church for Midnight Mass.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1A2DHrfMDgZXwNQOX8q-32fmkcKVE-MYZeuol5TwHxhhXmbEQ3s9FaKfDBzVMUv2o8av9yz74Jxzh057n28btmSNn3Msa4-bQs1WZ41AwA706qdVFuSLJePiebskVOwkopIUWsAuCAqK/s1600/PC240188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1A2DHrfMDgZXwNQOX8q-32fmkcKVE-MYZeuol5TwHxhhXmbEQ3s9FaKfDBzVMUv2o8av9yz74Jxzh057n28btmSNn3Msa4-bQs1WZ41AwA706qdVFuSLJePiebskVOwkopIUWsAuCAqK/s200/PC240188.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I especially love Christmas Eve as my children know the real reason they celebrate and amidst the excitement, rushing around and lunacy of this evening, I can end the day celebrating the real reason - Jesus.<br />
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<b style="color: red;"><i>When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” </i></b><br />
<div style="color: red;"><b><i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24990">16</sup> So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24991">17</sup> When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24992">18</sup> and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24993">19</sup> But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24994">20</sup> The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told. Luke 2 15-20</i></b></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-56513863021934490472011-12-23T18:41:00.000+00:002011-12-23T18:41:58.590+00:00Market FunToday I headed into the town where I work with 3 of the children, mainly to visit family and drop off presents and cards. It's amazing how just getting out into fresh air can really lift your spirits and today's trip to the fantastic fruit and veg market in the town centre offered the perfect opportunity for a bit of fun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDRBU6rDRqGAQD2huea7H8fnqWcec5k8FeRdkPhqvutNG1zv4eVLJDOiC3Iz5P_FUx3S5X84p7uIUBPbkGPKyVyS5nDk7Er-r6jCRBvBeoAixY-lZ-yPtqMdf53SC2fi2RN3_KPVOkpuc/s1600/PC230129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDRBU6rDRqGAQD2huea7H8fnqWcec5k8FeRdkPhqvutNG1zv4eVLJDOiC3Iz5P_FUx3S5X84p7uIUBPbkGPKyVyS5nDk7Er-r6jCRBvBeoAixY-lZ-yPtqMdf53SC2fi2RN3_KPVOkpuc/s320/PC230129.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Samuel managed to find the most enormous potatoes and of course, we had to buy them. I'm not sure how many chips we'll get out of these, or whether just one will cover a shepherd's pie, or even how many hours one would take to make a perfect jacket. Either way, we had lots of giggles handing them over the lady at the market, especially as Sam struggled to hold them in his tiny hands!Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-7896836836881875032011-09-23T00:14:00.003+01:002011-09-23T00:19:00.630+01:00Messing About On The River<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhyXTmK3vKSz5HMC-KU3AejZR_WHkkC3GSMNZhJ26TgrC4H1deiqChW3G3FjoyDUu0Kgvt7uviIE7xBx9EE2SBxSo3Yad4b86a-5dCkNBFyi97ThrRu8AgxZq_6943IxdPdmUKkFt0xkO/s1600/P9220216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhyXTmK3vKSz5HMC-KU3AejZR_WHkkC3GSMNZhJ26TgrC4H1deiqChW3G3FjoyDUu0Kgvt7uviIE7xBx9EE2SBxSo3Yad4b86a-5dCkNBFyi97ThrRu8AgxZq_6943IxdPdmUKkFt0xkO/s320/P9220216.JPG" width="320" /></a>I've had a lovely day today. Most of the time when I book a day off work, it's to do housework or something else domestic, but this year I promised Sam and Eleanor I'd try to take more time off to spend with them on school trips. This has meant working quite late some evenings to work up the flexi for the days off, but it's been worth it to just spend time with each of them.</div><strike><br />
</strike>There seems to be something really special about having your Mum come along on a school trip. Eleanor thoroughly enjoyed having me come along and leading her group.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2iaIxYDcWzm6BzvKnhvIgx14XBP_XIyhH-GcncQvB1yUkJXm1OPvB9MhVK5QWxNFwCD9qwSYr9b07Jf71FF96Et2SnH4clfu2hd-H0mQe5-Up1Q7UmQRcGgnL3lGT022LPI0RfHviU2R/s1600/P9220223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2iaIxYDcWzm6BzvKnhvIgx14XBP_XIyhH-GcncQvB1yUkJXm1OPvB9MhVK5QWxNFwCD9qwSYr9b07Jf71FF96Et2SnH4clfu2hd-H0mQe5-Up1Q7UmQRcGgnL3lGT022LPI0RfHviU2R/s320/P9220223.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Today we visited the Henley River and Rowing Museum. It was a beautiful day, great bunch of kids, river ride up and back through the lock and a visit to the Wind In The Willows exhibition. The River Thames is stunning. I realised today I need to take the kids to more places like this - we live by some beautiful river areas and locks. As a kid I used to spend a lot of time at Boulters Lock in Maidenhead, where I grew up. I would cycle to see my best friend in Cookham every week and we'd swim across the river there and I used to canoe at Hurley sometimes too.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-9777289761797633782011-09-18T15:28:00.005+01:002011-09-18T20:50:29.724+01:00Heather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvTqzOFNAVCBUwTC1aNquI_hVUfodRUlgFTdT6wO-E9bYfuaaO_5t6nHeqckQuJfcAkAbwOIIpFG-2zPnI44QfVc1fEDl7StD3QCd-OVv4AjFLyDdleDSlnLF0ar1W2XAFHU2VhBZf_2j/s1600/Heather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvTqzOFNAVCBUwTC1aNquI_hVUfodRUlgFTdT6wO-E9bYfuaaO_5t6nHeqckQuJfcAkAbwOIIpFG-2zPnI44QfVc1fEDl7StD3QCd-OVv4AjFLyDdleDSlnLF0ar1W2XAFHU2VhBZf_2j/s1600/Heather.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><h5 class="uc-subheading" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saturday, September 17, 2011 4:20 PM, EDT</i></h5><h5 class="uc-subheading" style="text-align: center;"><i>Today</i></h5><i> </i><br />
<div class="content apply-wordwrap"><div></div><i>I wish I had good news, the thing in her brain turned out to be a stroke. Her blood pressure never really recovered and she was suffering multiple organ problems. She fought the good fight but succumbed to her bodily failures this afternoon. </i><br />
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<i>She died surrounded by family and friends who were in attendance as she ascended. It seems that God has need of something that needs done!</i><br />
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<i>I wish I could say that I was able to read to her all of your good thoughts and prayers but she wanted me to tell you that I read sone to her and she appreciated each and every one,</i><br />
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<i>May the peace of the Lord be with you all.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i> _______________</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">These heartbreaking words were written by Heather's husband, Scott. Heather was 42 years old and the mother to Abby 10, and Ellie 8, two adorable young girls who are far too young to lose their Mum.<i> </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've never met Heather, but she was a friend. A friend I made over ten years ago not long after I'd had Joshua. I was considering returning to work and the ante-natal group I was with was very anti in a different way - anti mothers returning to work, and instead of showing me support and encouraging me with the extremely difficult situation I faced, I was made to feel like the worst mother on the planet. I found a website called BabyCentre, looked on the working mums board to see if there were other mums like me who felt wretched about having to return to work, but they were few and far between - in fact the whole site was slow and rarely visited. So I turned to the US 'Working Moms' board and boy, did I find a huge welcome there. I also found Heather.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">For many months a huge group of us would post about anything and everything to do with our lives as Mums. We got through teething together, eating problems, sleep problems, returning to work issues, learning to budget and juggle childcare and doing all the things a mum does, plus a full time job. You name it, we shared it. We talked about our beliefs, our faiths, our dreams and hopes for our children. We also compared birth stories, bemoaned our jelly bellies and discussed planning our next pregnancies. I shared about Joshua's food intolerances (one of the Mums on there was also on the food allergy board and led me there for advice I would never have found in the UK). We shared our joys at our babies developing, passing milestones, we shared sleepless nights, we bounced ideas off each other, we moaned at each other and we had a lot of laughs together. After a while we started to receive nasty posts from very militant SAHMs who really didn't understand who we were or why we worked. It became an unpleasant place for us to be. Also, as a close group we found we were dominating the board, so one of the Mums decided to set up a separate board away from BabyCentre which was closed invitation only and I was overjoyed to see the e-mail inviting me - I was and remain the only British Mum on that board and I feel honoured and privileged to be part of such a wonderful group of caring, loving and considerate women. Women who cover all walks of life, we have Mums in the field of law, engineering, forensics, accounting, admin and many more professions - all united by one common factor - we started off as mums who worked outside the home. We are now a mixed group with some who have managed to beat financial pressure and debt and have stepped over the boundary and now stay home with their kids. We were overjoyed for them when they managed this and the diversity of our group dynamic in this respect has made us even closer.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Heather was also in this group - in fact, she still very much is. Her overwhelming joyous and vibrant personality will ensure she remains very alive on our board. We've shared more than ten years of living her life with her online. She has shared about her girls growing up, about her work, how much she loves her husband, church, her friends and just about anything we've randomly posted about. She was a very clever woman, very in tune with people's feelings and able to just say the right things. Her posts were hugely encouraging and at times so funny you'd have to read through a haze of tears through laughing so much. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Many of us have not met - some have - I'm yet to make it to a get-together - I am determined one day I will and Andy knows the importance of these ladies in my life. Some people may find it weird and freaky to get close to somebody you've never met, but this is the thing about this group - we're real. We are real women, real Mums, real wives and girlfriends. We just live a long way from each other. Ten years ago, a group like this was unheard of - we were very unique in how we operated and it's not without any surprise that Heather was in this group. I can't imagine what it would have been without her. We loved her posts, we loved her wit and humour, we loved her words of encouragement and her ability to open up about herself and let us see just what wonderful woman she was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We've seen triumphs on our board - we've celebrated when a friend has beaten breast cancer, we shared the anguish of one friend being diagnosed with Graves Disease, we've cried over miscarriages, we've fumed over absent fathers not doing their things for their kids, we are great friends with a Mum who has a child with mental health problems, we've smiled from ear to ear when a pregnancy has been announced and we've gone gooey over pictures of newborns, we've posted pics of our kids starting school. We are a family - a very close family, so close in fact, that in the past we've had other women want to join our board as they know it's so supportive and we've had to reluctantly turn them away because it would rock the dynamics of just how strong we are as a unit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">But our unit has been struck by the biggest bolt of lighting yet. Of all the challenges we have faced as a group and individually, nothing has been as immense as the battle Heather faced. She complained of her back hurting as far back as April and posted regularly about how it was affecting her comfort at work, how she couldn't sleep, how it had sucked the fun out of summer for her, how she was getting all sorts of different treatments. She was a fit woman, training for triathlons, working at a good job and enjoying the everyday normality of being a Mum to two beautiful girls, being Scott's wife and a much loved friend to the huge, huge group of people around her. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Heather once mentioned how energetic her parents were and how she wished when she was their age, she had their energy for when her own girls had children of their own. When we discussed other things involving kids she said she had thought about how sometimes it's better not to tell some kids about bad stuff until it's about to happen, especially if they're the type to worry and fret. It's a cruel irony now that she won't get to be energetic when her girls grow up and that her girls are now having to cope with the most horrific bad news a child can be given. A cruelty in their young lives they will never get used to. <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Heather went into hospital two weeks ago due to her chronic back pain. She posted to us that she was having tests done and would likely be in hospital for a few days. She posted briefly on Facebook that she had 'pan can in liver'. That's the last we heard from her. We have kept in touch with Scott about her condition and we have cried bucket loads at hearing the doctors had confirmed she had pancreatic cancer which had spread to her liver. She never had time to digest the news and get her affairs in order. She never even had time to start fighting the disease. We were stunned when just six days later we lost our beautiful friend. Our vibrant, funny, nutty, triathlete Heather. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Our prayers and thoughts are with Scott, Abby and Ellie and also Heather's Mum and Dad. Heather had a huge real life support group and we know that the family will be well cared for. Heather was a believer and through all the angst, pain and grief, the only consolations are that her pain was brief and that when it ended she was able to run straight into Jesus arms.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-60117462774616866732011-09-11T17:39:00.003+01:002011-09-11T18:49:57.427+01:00Remembering 9/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9Ef6_uj9YIzufnRksNlBt1ehfLCi3WpXTt2QnlqA1UVdOvu0Jt2Kk_HJyMfb6CzSRwITxRRNnMc8cG2bb1JZvHIqZJJUk6BY7lrkZ8uB3XFFkS7jGzlfbUfCku9N6xNvWxXn2Ct2H4Fn/s1600/2nd+plane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9Ef6_uj9YIzufnRksNlBt1ehfLCi3WpXTt2QnlqA1UVdOvu0Jt2Kk_HJyMfb6CzSRwITxRRNnMc8cG2bb1JZvHIqZJJUk6BY7lrkZ8uB3XFFkS7jGzlfbUfCku9N6xNvWxXn2Ct2H4Fn/s1600/2nd+plane.jpg" /></a></div>As today marks the 10th anniversary of the chilling attack on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and the fatal hijacking of Flight 93, my thoughts like many others have turned to what I was doing when it happened. A day's unfolding etched indelibly on my mind. I wasn't born when either of the Kennedy brothers were assassinated or when John Lennon was shot. I don't remember Elvis dying as I was only five years old. I recall Aryton Senna's fatal crash quite vividly and that of Princess Diana and it's this recollection of 'celebrity' deaths that got me thinking about why we always seem to put an emphasis on remembering where we are when these things happen.<br />
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For 9/11, I was at work. It was early afternoon and along with a colleague I was researching information for our latest publicity leaflet about one of the theatres of the Second World War. Ironic that my work too centres around mindless global violence. Engrossed in our reading the door suddenly burst open and our manager told us the World Trade Center had been hit by an aeroplane. Like the rest of the world the thought of such a terrible accident happening shocked us and our thoughts immediately turned to the people in the building. My later thoughts focusing on those poor souls in the aeroplanes didn't surface until quite some time later.<br />
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The building where I work has a top floor that is a social area. We have a lounge area and TV and as the events unfolded, more and more colleagues came to watch the news. As we all started to take in the possibility it was a terrorist attack and the first mumblings of Al Queda were mentioned, it was then with a chill running through me and a nausea in the pit of my stomach I saw that second plane hurtle through the air. It seemed at first it would miss the building, but then that sickening turn and angle to deliberately impact the building - that's what stood out. Even now, watching that plane fly in, I want to put my hand into the screen, wrap it around the plane and pull it out of the air so it doesn't crash. <br />
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Nobody spoke, nobody gasped. Some stared at the screen, some stared at the floor, some just stared at each other - total disbelief knowing that at that very moment, whilst we were standing safe in our workplace we were watching people die - people, who just like us had turned up for an ordinary day at work. They weren't celebrities, world leaders or royalty. Just men and women going about their business. We saw bodies falling, people blown from the building by the blast, people running through the street in the huge cloud of dust, running for their lives - how many people succumbed to the suffocation of that blast one can only imagine. I remember vividly the telephone call released of a man on the line to the fire department begging the firemen to find him as the room around him billowed with black smoke, then his scream .. the call abruptly ending because at that point, the building collapsed.<br />
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I'd like to think that things in this world will get better. But globally I know they won't. When the world cries out for hope and peace, my thoughts are that these words are futile, unless you have the certainty of believing there will come a day when there will be peace, when Jesus returns to the earth to restore His kingdom to that he intended when Garden of Eden was first created. We can question why God allows these evil acts to happen and we can call on Him to intervene, but our expectation of Him just stepping in has to be realistic that if He is to step in, just where would we have Him stand? Do we ask Him to wipe out all the terrorists currently plotting and scheming to commit atrocious acts, or do we go one step back in the chain and ask Him to take out all the people indoctrinating these men and women to become terrorists? Do we then ask God to take out their children too, for fear they may become like their parents, and then the neighbours, as they must have been exposed to some kind of dangerous thinking along the way? How do we categorise evil? Surely anything that has an intention to harm another is a form of evil? Do we ask God to take out house burglars - their actions are deliberate and wrong - and harmful to others? Do we ask God to take out our own children as they fight with each other and then lie to get themselves out of trouble and lay the blame on each other? Do we ask God to take out our spouses as they insult us during arguments and refuse to take any blame for their actions? Either way we look at it, we as humans are harming each other every day, even the people we love and who claim to love us - should extremism be the only reason we call upon God to intervene?<br />
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So, whilst we lament a world full of scorn, terror and sorrow, we also rejoice and find comfort in God, who does care. God, who has given us comfort that although these things will happen, His plan is righteous, just and perfect. I'm yet to understand just how this all fits together, but I have faith that one day, when I stand before Him, I'll understand why men committed that act on that dreadful day ten years ago.<br />
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But until that day, my thoughts return to those poor people, some of whom probably just for a fleeting few seconds saw the planes head towards their office windows. The passengers who knew seconds before, they were going to die. People in the lower floors hearing the deafening crash of the building above them collapsing and knowing they'd never make it out alive. The 'jumpers'. Families watching in horror as they knew their loved ones had gone - wives and husbands receiving mobile phone calls to say goodbye. Women carrying unborn children who would never meet their Daddy, toddlers and schoolchildren left at schools waiting for their Mummies to come pick them up, but never did. Relatives waiting at airports for planes that never landed.<br />
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We must never give up on God. We must never give up on each other. With prayer and forgiveness we have the power to make some parts of the world a better place. The part of the world where we live, where we interact daily. We have the power to love the people around us, not to let bad feeling fester - to share in joys and heartbreaks and to support each other when in need. Let's remember not to let 9/11 hold us back. Let's look forward to a day when evil WILL be conquered.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-4991883994204902112011-09-02T21:46:00.001+01:002011-09-02T21:47:46.252+01:00Where did God come from S M Lockridge's Unforgettable answer..wmv<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L8N3js6KhUI?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-61859494470563849242011-09-01T21:51:00.007+01:002011-09-02T16:38:50.725+01:00Marriage - Revising and Refreshing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjLrPP6TS2i2Q811Xzn4RcetmMIrRf_GkDdDlNDwEZRnk1DlqsVSGs2uo_R4C5LQyAlt_gya1WjMql-zAuBstA5PHAab758bXHWeQQh9ro698Av-vzVr958m3LLaUWRv_Vb-4OZ1Lck0H/s1600/vicar+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjLrPP6TS2i2Q811Xzn4RcetmMIrRf_GkDdDlNDwEZRnk1DlqsVSGs2uo_R4C5LQyAlt_gya1WjMql-zAuBstA5PHAab758bXHWeQQh9ro698Av-vzVr958m3LLaUWRv_Vb-4OZ1Lck0H/s320/vicar+001.jpg" width="260" /></a> In all walks of life you will meet experts. Experts on finance, HR, marketing, building, athletics, decorating ... you name it, there is probably a qualification somewhere that covers some aspect of it. But nowhere, is there an expert on<i> every</i> aspect of marriage. It's easy to become incredibly complacent about how you conduct your life alongside the person you have devoted yourself to and it's easy to become caught up in the mechanics of day to day life, living alongside each other, but not<i> with </i>each other. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Show me a married couple who insist their marriage is perfect and I'll show you either two liars, two very disillusioned people who haven't quite realised they're married or two people whose lives are so far apart, the chasm between them has become so normal, they don't see the abnormality of it. Marriage is hard work. At times it is heartbreaking, lonely and confusing, but mostly you wonder how you'd ever live without that person and the rewards of sharing your life with them are immense. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So many people now enter marriage flippantly, blinded by the notion that it's akin to their career path. If they get fed up with a job or it doesn't pay the rate they want, they move on. If the spouse gets a bit boring and the responsibilities become monotonous, they move on. For some that do stay the course they think by the time they've clocked up a decade together, they've got the whole thing nailed. I'm sometimes cynical like this as I've clocked up 14 years of marriage and find myself at times thinking I'm a bit of a guru when it comes to certain problems and how to deal with them. There are many challenges within marriage I can confidently expertly advise on because I've experienced them and there are some challenges I know nothing about because I haven't. Having gone through some very challenging moments, I can see things from the same platform as the poacher turned gamekeeper, but even my advice has the danger of becoming flawed because of the complacency of time and familiarity. At other times I can be the best person to speak to and my advice can be well received and heeded. But as I said, nobody is an expert on <i>every</i> aspect of marriage.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, how do you deal with this? How do you keep your marriage alive and fun? How do you still love that person the way you did on your wedding day? How do you learn to love them more? How do you live as one, yet remain as two individuals? How do you get through problems? How do you forgive? How do you move on and how do you look back and choose to reflect on the good times and not throw up the bad ones? How many of us married couples really take time to evaluate our marriages and treasure them for what they are and what the years have given us? Do we really stop and think about what our marriage means to us?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCQI9dCg6dpdDxnzLPStEWovoWbyy2R63cICoUfRYCDedB7cVYteGkUQDlb-w7WKBUJER7ojYYXGdp4s46yVnu3Fk0Uq5S0PW4CvREzrvbgEEy-euGPxl5cz7Ci3DIIxbLCwO-SfEXqSB/s1600/cake+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCQI9dCg6dpdDxnzLPStEWovoWbyy2R63cICoUfRYCDedB7cVYteGkUQDlb-w7WKBUJER7ojYYXGdp4s46yVnu3Fk0Uq5S0PW4CvREzrvbgEEy-euGPxl5cz7Ci3DIIxbLCwO-SfEXqSB/s320/cake+001.jpg" width="235" /></a>Having gone through a separation and reconciliation, I can say that I have evaluated my marriage. Andy and I both had to evaluate it. We had to look at what God had given us and what we were doing a mighty fine job of destroying. We had to stop and think where we stood before God and before each other and we had to look at very uncomfortable situations we were finding ourselves in. We learned that the best support for us were couples in solid relationships or people in no relationship. People with faltering marriages of their own proved toxic to our efforts to rebuild ours, so we had to distance ourselves. We found some couples with seemingly healthy marriages took sides with one or the other and that created wounds and distrust, moreso because we asked them not to. Because of this, rebuilding our marriage broke friendships as we found some people actually enjoyed taking sides and creating tensions between us - it staggered me particularly how two faced people were. We had to sever previous friendships which was heartbreaking, but necessary. The rebuilding of those friendships will hopefully return one day, but in order to save what was precious, sacrifices had to be made at the time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
Going back to the basics of anything in life is a good thing. It's refreshing to remind ourselves why we made a certain choice, why we chose to be where we are or why God chose to put us where we are. It's healthy to go back and repoint the bricks upon which we've built our lives, to rediscover the simple pleasures and attractions that have led us to where we are now.</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So Andy and I have booked ourselves on <a href="http://relationshipcentral.org/marriage-course/about-course">The Marriage Course</a>. Seven sessions covering various aspects of marriage and how to build on them. You may well think that after nearly 16 years together and over 14 years of them being married, we'd have run out of things to talk about or build on. <b>But that's why.</b> We don't want to become flippant, stale and stagnated in our marriage. We don't want the newlyweds thinking we're a pair of past it old timers whose marriage consists of bringing up children and working. We have so much more than that together. We've weathered many storms throughout our marriage and we've also seen many rainbows, but the fundamental foundation for me and Andy is that our marriage stays strong, alive and God centred. We're really looking forward to it and to having many more fantastic years together. We know it won't always be perfect, but we will always remember that God made our marriage and remains in the centre of it. Taking time out once a week to rediscover parts of our relationship that could so easily be lost, to pick up where things have become stale and just to spend time alone talking about the two of us and not the kids, finances, shopping and 99 other things will be fun, thought provoking and essential.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, whether you've been married one year or 25 years, never be afraid to look back at the basics. Don't get caught up in thinking that because you tell each other you love each other every day and you text or message one another or you get through a day without an argument, that you have nothing more to give or receive. You do. You both do. </div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-63242196731202232932011-08-29T12:24:00.024+01:002011-08-30T20:23:40.286+01:00The Party To Make Up For Parties<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuH-_Kr5fzJydNChFnSpBo95N_8z3olo1iJJpDo_9m_dhYnVn-f28r_Kj_FQm0R_AFEZKQ2c2dUCSAXdYimxVGN0jFoSdCD7X_B_ZNZXEK8Wxg_qjhcT4pHdnVsrSH8kObcpbnF1wS8Cx8/s1600/P8280011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuH-_Kr5fzJydNChFnSpBo95N_8z3olo1iJJpDo_9m_dhYnVn-f28r_Kj_FQm0R_AFEZKQ2c2dUCSAXdYimxVGN0jFoSdCD7X_B_ZNZXEK8Wxg_qjhcT4pHdnVsrSH8kObcpbnF1wS8Cx8/s320/P8280011.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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Maddie has missed out on many birthday parties, purely because her birthday lies in the summer holidays. Sharing the same day as her I remember from my childhood, all my friends having parties, sleepovers and fun days, but when it came to my birthday nobody was around, mainly because they were away on family holidays or my family was away on holiday. I got used to having quiet birthdays, but despite this my Mum and Dad always made sure I had a good day, making a fuss of me and getting me nice presents.<br />
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Maddie mentioned last year that she hadn't really had a proper party for her birthday. Over the years she's been very gracious about this, has never moaned or complained and never asked for anything the others had. She's seen them have laser quest parties, bowling parties, sports parties, swimming evenings, pizza building parties, gym parties, indoor activity parties, discos, ..... but Maddie's days were quiet, like mine had been. So, this year, for her 11th birthday, we decided to have a party to make up for parties, inviting the friends she felt closest too and the friends she wanted to get to know better in the future. <br />
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<div>The only obstacle that faced us, was it being in the holidays, friends being on holiday and this year, herself being away at a Church camp on her birthday. So her celebrations have spanned nearly two weeks! A few presents opened before she went away, a cake and shoebox stuffed with small goodies smuggled to camp in her leader's car as a surprise for her birthday morning and a party and sleepover the weekend after.<br />
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Maddie has the most fabulous group of friends. Sadly, not all of them could make it, but she had a great crowd at her Water Walkerz party last night. As well as asking her older brother at the last minute if he'd like to come and bring a friend, which meant a quick phone call to another friend, the group was made up of a neighbour, Brownies pal, school friends and church friends. Girls who had never met each other before, but who got together to have a great 2 hours of fun, water zorbing, sliding the chutes, playing volleyball with the lifeguard and munching on the poolside buffet. They even did a fantastic job of singing Happy Birthday to Maddie so loud, they drowned out the sound system!<br />
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</div>Four friends came home afterwards, two went home at 10.30pm and the other two stayed over for the night, finally drifting off to sleep some time after 3.30 this morning. Filled up with pizza and midnight munchies, the girls still managed to fit in a breakfast of sausage, eggs and bacon. It was a real shame to have to send everybody home, but Maddie has had a great time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_i-IbelcMiz-BXsSPWu6f8u5ytDrU68PkY6wg2Z-R3QZt1pKeqiUNhKDGT8lLGwlckcpQZ5BO8o1a44GUJ3f4QuswwoodIsNwDUxyXAnB-wg49PHR77oOJbDqNh6EN9m6JuAavqr8pC-/s1600/P8280044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_i-IbelcMiz-BXsSPWu6f8u5ytDrU68PkY6wg2Z-R3QZt1pKeqiUNhKDGT8lLGwlckcpQZ5BO8o1a44GUJ3f4QuswwoodIsNwDUxyXAnB-wg49PHR77oOJbDqNh6EN9m6JuAavqr8pC-/s320/P8280044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-49881640830883852712011-07-23T21:06:00.003+01:002011-07-23T21:40:00.604+01:00Judgements of the Unqualified<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtxRZN63rPo7ANdAeTUAaZ40JdvOfW1SPNAdyw63muWtL5ZEyn8LrpQxUmdYuF6vMM5w-BskCR73IXY3NEwxD-6Gz-j557daFKTJt43PnRRI_5qezUpsI8UaYqVnvaILJvVCAI5FnANiP/s1600/amy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtxRZN63rPo7ANdAeTUAaZ40JdvOfW1SPNAdyw63muWtL5ZEyn8LrpQxUmdYuF6vMM5w-BskCR73IXY3NEwxD-6Gz-j557daFKTJt43PnRRI_5qezUpsI8UaYqVnvaILJvVCAI5FnANiP/s200/amy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I usually don't blog about the lives of celebrities. I may catch the odd headline on the news, but beyond that my interest fades. I've never been a buyer of OK, Hello or whatever the latest hot pick on the newstand is. I'm simply not interested in what their duvet cover looks like or what dress they're wearing whilst sidling up to the fridge in their fifty thousand pound kitchens. I try to avoid the speculation about who's having affairs and who's been photographed slumped in a drunken stupor in the back of a limo in the early hours, or who's had a tantrum at the nightclub bouncer because they're not A-list enough to get in the club in the first place to end up in a drunken stupor. But over the years, as I've got older, it's become more and more impossible to watch the news without all this being thown in front of me. Tragedy, violence, humiliation and despair sadly attract the journalists and the more depraved the story, the quicker it hits the headlines.<br />
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And this brings me to Amy Winehouse, who this afternoon, tragically secured her place amongst the members of the macabre '27 Club'. A young woman noticed in her teens, with a raw unusual quality to her voice - a sound so distinctive amongst her peers, that set her apart, accelerated her ability to grab the heights of fame and elevated her to the sycophantic attentions of those who saw the opportunity to exploit what should have been nurtured and protected.<br />
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For many years I was intolerant of drug users and alcoholics. To an extent I still am, but ignorance by innocence is somewhat excusable, ignorance by dogmatic arrogant choice isn't and as I've experienced more and more of life and modern pressures, my intolerance to these people has softened. I will never accept that people have no choice when it comes to drink and drugs, unless they're physically forced. Nobody MAKES them carry on drinking to oblivion and nobody forces them to snort up powders or shoot toxic liquids into their veins. It is a choice, but the strength of character to walk away from this is sadly lacking in those people, like Amy, who are flung into a life of money and glamour when they're far too young and immature to handle it. Furthermore, having the discerning ability to see through the murky intentions of vulturous advisers who are set on exploiting young talent in the guise of a support network is nigh on impossible. Especially when the very trappings of success are promising a future where everything landing in your hands is considered a reward for talent. And those trappings, for Amy, enabled her sadly to lend those hands to her own fate.<br />
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So my reaction to her death is not one of surprise, but immense sadness and anger. Anger that the Press saw fit to make a mockery of her troubles, to document her struggling to perform, to deliberately set about catching her during some of the most undignified and despairing moments of her life. The 100m distance ban on all media near her or her friends came too late and in reality was a sneer though the viewfinder of the modern age zoom lens. My immense sadness at a unique young woman who was really given no chance to turn her life around without every step she took being scrutinised. Each visit to rehab dismissively mocked by the tabloids, a father who resorted to speaking to the press in an apparent desperation to 'reach out' to her. <br />
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Disbelief at people, who even after she's died, seem to think they have the qualification and authorisation to determine that her death was deserved. Because, obviously, they have such great experience of having associated with people like her, they are so well placed to quantify those statements. People who say 'life is what you make it'. These people clearly having absolutely no pressures in their lives, no disappointments, and sat on the pedestals of their self inflated egos.<br />
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I would challenge these people to confirm whether they have the same disgusting abusive attitude towards obese people. After all, eating beyond the body's calorific need is surely self abuse - but an illness that many people struggle with and need support and understanding to cope and live with, not taunts and sneers of disgust. Do they have the same attitude towards people in debt, who spend beyond their means because the lure of goods in shops are just too tempting? Or what about people who just can't keep up with the cost of life - are they failures in the eyes of those simply because life is too tough for a season in their lives?<br />
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I feel incredibly sorry for Amy and my heart reaches out to her family and friends. Those people close to her who have had to watch the woman they love and care for, slowly ebb her life away. A woman they could appreciate and love for her immense talent and for who she was to them and it is my hope and prayer that in her death, she is afforded a moderate amount of dignity and her family are allowed to grieve without the voyeuristic vultures of the media and public performing their own moral autopsy on her.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-23359833278342322382011-07-17T20:24:00.002+01:002011-07-17T20:26:54.063+01:00A Splash Of Memories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Us parents have to constantly judge whether it's right to become stressed about something when teaching our kids. Some days things bother us more than others. Some days we worry too much about what other people are thinking or saying. Some days we don't realise that when we say 'no', it's not because it does our kids any harm, but more because we can't be bothered dealing with the things that follow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, occasionally, I dig out these photos below and remind myself that some days I can just say 'yes'. Like this day in July 2007 when coming home on the last day of the school term, the local area flooded. We were faced with this and the only choice we had was to go through it and get extremely wet, or trudge the long way round. Maddie and Joshua had a schoolfriend coming home for tea and after much begging on their part, followed by a quick mobile call to their friend's Mum, the go-ahead was given for them to dive in and 'swim' in the field on the way home. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They had such fantastic fun coming home that day. Admittedly, had it been the day before, they would have probably had to walk the long way round. But occasionally us parents need to chill, to stand back and just let our kids be kids and let them do those mad little things, that ordinarily we'd never dream of letting them do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, if you're a parent, let go once in a while, let the kids do something a little wacky - as long as they're safe, no offence is caused to other people and nothing gets damaged, ask yourself where the harm is? If there isn't any, give them those precious moments to dive in and swim.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VbK9hdWp_BpprPLsHRkxQovEmcyZMab9KiEkP8txHTASH9vXfNiDl8crfCBvDs00v-FFPV23i7NQ6kA6HMak-nqOk_FuxemdjWyjLhvPMmVKIcyKC8tTCLvAYsjbqwnu4UO-w99tkBo-/s1600/20-07-07_1507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VbK9hdWp_BpprPLsHRkxQovEmcyZMab9KiEkP8txHTASH9vXfNiDl8crfCBvDs00v-FFPV23i7NQ6kA6HMak-nqOk_FuxemdjWyjLhvPMmVKIcyKC8tTCLvAYsjbqwnu4UO-w99tkBo-/s400/20-07-07_1507.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92_6uhPHvc31eIIm93gTYGBFwkuRA-3JgGKaASxJPrm8f1NK1Jo9_WZ7nk1dHX4rMQx7pnkJRtZTMZkTisRhmtE4ifGRUMKSELtUWnEpl16bKTRUZR3Fh2gc3y_IxTlxr3lrCbzegy0Dh/s1600/20-07-07_1508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92_6uhPHvc31eIIm93gTYGBFwkuRA-3JgGKaASxJPrm8f1NK1Jo9_WZ7nk1dHX4rMQx7pnkJRtZTMZkTisRhmtE4ifGRUMKSELtUWnEpl16bKTRUZR3Fh2gc3y_IxTlxr3lrCbzegy0Dh/s400/20-07-07_1508.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO78OaH6zIy0o5KtVn2dLZ2pfNcCRb3G-Af18pfiU-7jN3dq1heztTfclDxoj7bT0fOL1I5VZtHF7K-zvb2ki5a557fOjsGbrsbhud32NH2bqYZiWx8bvbsy0U8Mu69zmqDawztoX3rcLf/s1600/20-07-07_1510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO78OaH6zIy0o5KtVn2dLZ2pfNcCRb3G-Af18pfiU-7jN3dq1heztTfclDxoj7bT0fOL1I5VZtHF7K-zvb2ki5a557fOjsGbrsbhud32NH2bqYZiWx8bvbsy0U8Mu69zmqDawztoX3rcLf/s400/20-07-07_1510.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-52954686598676155592011-07-09T20:58:00.000+01:002011-07-09T20:58:16.087+01:00Happy Exhaustion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYEnOafbIXmY8jWgYoKzg8-k4v-uE69DXIGPaZeE0QjGS-Y6f0-GV1rK2LlowF87QIYN69e7GqhDxLEfGM-ZL-zqveUqcR-C65UwtmVZTy4DkfEwvZLb8shLix2x8pqrsI0Obc-exQoT5/s1600/IMG_0531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYEnOafbIXmY8jWgYoKzg8-k4v-uE69DXIGPaZeE0QjGS-Y6f0-GV1rK2LlowF87QIYN69e7GqhDxLEfGM-ZL-zqveUqcR-C65UwtmVZTy4DkfEwvZLb8shLix2x8pqrsI0Obc-exQoT5/s200/IMG_0531.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Andy and I have four happy exhausted children today. The younger two are in bed after having an absolute blast of a day at the <a href="http://allthingstaylor-scott.blogspot.com/">South Reading Churches Fun Day</a>, followed by a first birthday party for a dear little boy in our church. And for Sam an extended day involving a much longed for trip to Toys R Us early this evening to spend birthday money.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbO3ZviKbh5arURPwFTzbx9jjO3PmMhtEcTir6uy17G2XylHXSucdb8gsVmoN075f2cAzjP-QsnuoJcZpokGUcTtUdhdOU2hUijadwlU64Fy6G-oy-_Ql3zh5VuA7otYPcv4dJMBGAD-T9/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbO3ZviKbh5arURPwFTzbx9jjO3PmMhtEcTir6uy17G2XylHXSucdb8gsVmoN075f2cAzjP-QsnuoJcZpokGUcTtUdhdOU2hUijadwlU64Fy6G-oy-_Ql3zh5VuA7otYPcv4dJMBGAD-T9/s200/IMG_0530.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
The older two are collapsed on the sofa vegging in front of the television having enjoyed a great day out in the fresh air just being kids and enjoying a bit of freedom and independence. They're about to head up the wooden hill.<br />
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Me and Andy? A lovely cool refreshing beer each, feet up and DVD.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-V7C_XSyB3S1aprP3U4EWi7Ac9xwgJn6QKOrJ0oB0rt26DcCO2UFDQocm3SBufu2hBwexiGOyEOHkofEV_TqBCWDDOUCgQlpztszv3SqOzUojcvGEanQ8ReLS6wEuoAB7Js-V4hKvyjA/s1600/IMG_0514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-V7C_XSyB3S1aprP3U4EWi7Ac9xwgJn6QKOrJ0oB0rt26DcCO2UFDQocm3SBufu2hBwexiGOyEOHkofEV_TqBCWDDOUCgQlpztszv3SqOzUojcvGEanQ8ReLS6wEuoAB7Js-V4hKvyjA/s200/IMG_0514.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJhaZ-3ccT56e3NWgXywYITkdppmYLejut9qcFZGfaRpAfpNEtKeRTCL_tXrYWKY8K9EiJ6pPcmzCPscibF1VhYLsCJuZQ6SrYMV9io_Uk3k3e1YTeVqhxji_OdP-rGkGbela2ux7zglI/s1600/IMG_0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
All's good in the house :-)Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-61004419015882834462011-06-20T09:22:00.001+01:002011-06-20T09:25:56.681+01:00Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif1k0wTS8S3RznvA_exwJEJY7_upFaOe2nlZZFcpFV0yVATGuJQ86-6WJl3yNzud1EFF0Xjj5qa8YXQfzHln47vXVDXbvycfhQcoJhDnBf9bw5IIWG1WBw4na0oYDb3Js9YSV-ZNWEzwbs/s1600/Sam+and+Simeon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif1k0wTS8S3RznvA_exwJEJY7_upFaOe2nlZZFcpFV0yVATGuJQ86-6WJl3yNzud1EFF0Xjj5qa8YXQfzHln47vXVDXbvycfhQcoJhDnBf9bw5IIWG1WBw4na0oYDb3Js9YSV-ZNWEzwbs/s200/Sam+and+Simeon.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I adore this picture. My son, Sam, is on the left. <br />
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Two little boys holding hands waiting their turn on a fun game. Two little hands that speak many words. 'You're my friend and we're in this together'. When they're older, they won't be holding hands with each other, but I hope when they both become young men, they have the same attitude and conviction of heart that extends their hands to any friend that needs them.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-35646808359988904862011-05-22T20:37:00.000+01:002011-05-22T20:37:42.917+01:00Silent Sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CmmkMJKpO0foX2oalfrYCyUzZiQfZdX7KyW7W29LMXu_PYWKcaZQQbuWHeKE91xm83E3dLmJZ_iaARSry9dR2BqulhnvpCgisa-wWO00Tlune5YRetp2OG6Bz4IwxOKQX0RYpa9l3L9V/s1600/IMG_7795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CmmkMJKpO0foX2oalfrYCyUzZiQfZdX7KyW7W29LMXu_PYWKcaZQQbuWHeKE91xm83E3dLmJZ_iaARSry9dR2BqulhnvpCgisa-wWO00Tlune5YRetp2OG6Bz4IwxOKQX0RYpa9l3L9V/s400/IMG_7795.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-8535916901588739132011-05-20T18:55:00.000+01:002011-05-20T18:55:15.205+01:00Happy Dog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKU98z65lnNjv4izP1IqFY8FAV3BiTLx08jjz3wPI9iXoNBM9CSe73vyxd4zEW-ulzeDD6scBQUZhCuegXlsZrpzVtd0GFEGp0MgqcCFMeycc10AdPr9_nF4qsNq_yMtnMcxIaPmz4n0N/s1600/IMG_7750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKU98z65lnNjv4izP1IqFY8FAV3BiTLx08jjz3wPI9iXoNBM9CSe73vyxd4zEW-ulzeDD6scBQUZhCuegXlsZrpzVtd0GFEGp0MgqcCFMeycc10AdPr9_nF4qsNq_yMtnMcxIaPmz4n0N/s320/IMG_7750.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>One large baked beef marrowbone presented to Toki this evening. He was so excited he shook! He's been in the garden for 20 minutes now munching on this and there's no sign of him wanting to come in. This must be the equivalent of a five year old being given the biggest ice-cream ever!Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582426849216969192.post-66607592139918771732011-05-17T11:21:00.000+01:002011-05-17T11:21:43.426+01:00Rundown Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLXoJJpRoy6cAq7IY4As6AUR1WTfaAuHGukWdUuesjwB-kD-J84MB0x9KPG9XNxwjrhBlyjXKlO5-hdaMum6HeXA0IWEHRD7NuwKuJ1ij7oHm1niU1uS8Owhones24SAJFUwezzlpgR0_/s1600/training+in+progress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLXoJJpRoy6cAq7IY4As6AUR1WTfaAuHGukWdUuesjwB-kD-J84MB0x9KPG9XNxwjrhBlyjXKlO5-hdaMum6HeXA0IWEHRD7NuwKuJ1ij7oHm1niU1uS8Owhones24SAJFUwezzlpgR0_/s1600/training+in+progress.jpg" /></a></div>I often get people asking me how I cope with having four kids, house to run, church things, commuting to work, working outside the home, fitting in a social life, doing shopping, etc and sometimes the answer is quite simple. I don't always cope. I get days where I'm so utterly exhausted I don't know what to do with myself. Sometimes it's not physical exhaustion, but mental meltdown from having to shuffle so much information, remember who has to be where and when, who needs what, what needs to be paid to whom, how much they want, when do they want it by, what form needs to be handed in, who needs what sports kit today, who's at after school club, who needs picking up, who's walking home, what's for dinner, what e-mails are more urgent, has that staff member got their pay rise, has the translation for this letter been received, has this manager got enough money to pay that contractor, what time is it in Kirkee so I can speak to a technical manager on tour about something, have I filled in the information on this database, have I returned medical certificates to regional offices because they're written in Arabic and I can't understand a word that's written, what time am I leaving work today, is there enough petrol in the car, do I have a babysitter for tonight, is the washing done, has the dog been walked, have the pets been fed, are the clothes on the kids bedroom floor there because they're dirty or are the kids too lazy to put them away, have I replied to that birthday invitation one of them brought home yesterday, have I read my Bible today, have I prayed today ........<br />
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Life. Just plain ordinary busy hectic life. But some days it gets too much and I wake up feeling totally overwhelmed. Headaches start, I get short tempered and snarky with the people around me I love and they take the brunt of my vain attempts to do it all under my own strength, despite me having a wonderful husband who does so much to help and often tells me to stop worrying about things. So, today I'm off work, because I'm feeling a bit grotty and run down. But instead of vegging in front of the television I've decided to use some time to be a Mary, rather than a Martha and I'm already feeling a little uplifted. I'll be blogging more on My Martha, My Mary over the next few days as I really feel that God has given me a good talking to over the last couple of weeks and I'm starting to find my balance.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00463715059853173034noreply@blogger.com0