tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75860257038340256512024-02-06T20:42:56.483-06:00Bookmark This PageBeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.comBlogger162125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-66374468409532535852010-09-14T10:38:00.004-05:002010-09-14T11:18:38.613-05:00A Bird in the Hand...Folks, it's been pitifully long since I faithfully posted. Forgive me. If anyone is still following, I promise to do better at updating at least once a month. This blog got pushed to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">back burner</span> last spring when I began working on opening a private practice with 3 other friends & clinicians. With that being said, we named ourselves <a href="http://sparrowhousecounseling.com/">Sparrow House Counseling</a>. (our website should be up & running in t-minus next week or so) We have our official Open House this week and I thought I'd show you the wooden sign we hung in our waiting room yesterday (forgive the iPhone photo quality):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wfnqkQyXTF7JAWlwUac69fBVQspjawNag6j6LMkee2AB14FVaFu30c0XN_wm8GrGxxXKzYyEwNdGUjek8GbeEKL0UzElFt3W-SYa1Xyjsm6rGV2eMqs58Cd4_Eh4gnPggE3AeKFnUWrz/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wfnqkQyXTF7JAWlwUac69fBVQspjawNag6j6LMkee2AB14FVaFu30c0XN_wm8GrGxxXKzYyEwNdGUjek8GbeEKL0UzElFt3W-SYa1Xyjsm6rGV2eMqs58Cd4_Eh4gnPggE3AeKFnUWrz/s400/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516795809678711362" border="0" /></a><br />I love our logo. Many, many thanks to <a href="http://www.groupswitch.com/">Switch Creative Group</a> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kimi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Dallman</span>, also of former K-Life/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kanakuk</span> fame, for handling our branding, logo, website and stationary. We could not have begun to market ourselves out of a paper bag.<br /><br />Currently, I'm working on finding a fun collection of prints to be hung above my desk. I'm used to the classic ones you see on the walls of some therapists' offices: the kitten posters admonishing you to "Hang in There!" or the ubiquitous Thomas <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kincaid</span> paintings. I think my style is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">eclectic</span> and that I'd rather my clients get a few snapshots into my head. Here's one that's going up:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2uCeUCMR_EI/S7ufQiEDncI/AAAAAAAAAlI/MhEBU3VH81k/s1600/nikki-poster-pause-med.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2uCeUCMR_EI/S7ufQiEDncI/AAAAAAAAAlI/MhEBU3VH81k/s1600/nikki-poster-pause-med.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I ordered several of those. I also have a great <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Hammerpress</span> print, a little bird perched atop a cowboy boot, that will go up. Many thanks to <a href="http://missywilliams.posterous.com/">Missy Williams</a> who has held my hand along the way. She handled everything from choosing our paint colors to doing our space planning. I'll post a photo of my office once the dust settles (that only takes about 6 months, right) so you can feel the zen.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-15583121164674143452010-07-05T19:41:00.005-05:002010-07-05T20:04:32.828-05:00Ahhh, MexicoWell, you were sure I was dead, weren't you? I'm not. I've been just a bit consumed by other things...TBA. But for quite awhile we've had this lil' vacation planned with <a href="http://missywilliams.posterous.com/">David & Missy</a>. With no kiddos, or as we say here, "sin ninos."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLrVW3cg8UEVHdrn87TKbjvG8qhGTWuz5jOgEhrPXRCBgDZya1aCWO7Sh9qt4z5-mukpHXtUY7GLLjWLH21Cv1B84XORybs7DiudV7HsD3RfuYegQ9IpN4R36RxUN0d2l_vPiZ9jv8ukb/s1600/DSC_0827_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLrVW3cg8UEVHdrn87TKbjvG8qhGTWuz5jOgEhrPXRCBgDZya1aCWO7Sh9qt4z5-mukpHXtUY7GLLjWLH21Cv1B84XORybs7DiudV7HsD3RfuYegQ9IpN4R36RxUN0d2l_vPiZ9jv8ukb/s400/DSC_0827_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490588507259996178" border="0" /></a><br />Missy, or Misty, as I like to call her, has been chillaxin'.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdX75e_JPbCV73VniJYFCCtsxV_yzSsL73LKqADSUusS-c7s3GUFrFt_HAr8h4b0AaLLfUBQene4VRtiSKl5UqpW7sPmu77U_-h0UAj7z6HWw1p3_6x8WEruuq33uuVSMIVJHBMO4wBXKL/s1600/DSC_0864.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdX75e_JPbCV73VniJYFCCtsxV_yzSsL73LKqADSUusS-c7s3GUFrFt_HAr8h4b0AaLLfUBQene4VRtiSKl5UqpW7sPmu77U_-h0UAj7z6HWw1p3_6x8WEruuq33uuVSMIVJHBMO4wBXKL/s400/DSC_0864.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490588527823239186" border="0" /></a><br />Getting some sun...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4WdloZ2h1-A4bnEqyNn2focXo6UUGDRSKkY3FXvh11BuKskx93iLV4Bo5ddo-6ZpHZKTQb-ekQhkIGOQkGv0Sfnd2De9wHtgo9UXsv4isMuZRrF3EIeOD5ZIm2S-iO1oNOR66pooCafL/s1600/DSC_0866_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4WdloZ2h1-A4bnEqyNn2focXo6UUGDRSKkY3FXvh11BuKskx93iLV4Bo5ddo-6ZpHZKTQb-ekQhkIGOQkGv0Sfnd2De9wHtgo9UXsv4isMuZRrF3EIeOD5ZIm2S-iO1oNOR66pooCafL/s400/DSC_0866_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490588537556245538" border="0" /></a><br />Deep convos by the pool...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHuoFfqbT9KVkeSt-67s1U4Z1ChuFNkurUVVVHn-ekjaJFv18lCsG-5XdVt3RhYFv7aiOm83gUfM3Og3Kum3ReuAO3rE50dykUMZYjBx2_YzaIVafAib6a6GsyNJklmOCY-n1dLA_qo_EV/s1600/DSC_0872.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHuoFfqbT9KVkeSt-67s1U4Z1ChuFNkurUVVVHn-ekjaJFv18lCsG-5XdVt3RhYFv7aiOm83gUfM3Og3Kum3ReuAO3rE50dykUMZYjBx2_YzaIVafAib6a6GsyNJklmOCY-n1dLA_qo_EV/s400/DSC_0872.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490588547845462882" border="0" /></a><br />Here's my classic feet shot (shout out to<a href="http://www.todaysletters.com/"> Today's Letters</a>)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbznx4ZBn22Bu1iOq8elZpB3MpT-dlZwQnjl9fwcx3NkNTTW7ti2NbBgZJWKZ4mcTXgtl8H-BAAKm2b53MjSMNLjNHHT-gG7k5frjRiQdOV75WbvnzfogId1uRxxmfmB27PncGi03plt_V/s1600/IMG_1822.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbznx4ZBn22Bu1iOq8elZpB3MpT-dlZwQnjl9fwcx3NkNTTW7ti2NbBgZJWKZ4mcTXgtl8H-BAAKm2b53MjSMNLjNHHT-gG7k5frjRiQdOV75WbvnzfogId1uRxxmfmB27PncGi03plt_V/s400/IMG_1822.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490589318936223410" border="0" /></a><br />Hi, little hermies! (These guys were all cloistered together, livin' life.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-de9xCXHrFG3Is-9rSZK_VE5aCK8KPCnaRHlQYdot9Ou9QRO-waTWxAXm0IZnpXsa7LMU4tx5jwaLHSdbPPe71kuPaxD9Ty4RAyrtshuA5vuuJzmT0Cf-0lO4JiMVEiHBl1dart4Bdh5/s1600/IMG_1819.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-de9xCXHrFG3Is-9rSZK_VE5aCK8KPCnaRHlQYdot9Ou9QRO-waTWxAXm0IZnpXsa7LMU4tx5jwaLHSdbPPe71kuPaxD9Ty4RAyrtshuA5vuuJzmT0Cf-0lO4JiMVEiHBl1dart4Bdh5/s400/IMG_1819.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490589312902083362" border="0" /></a>Miss, getting her fly-fish on.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwok-h7uezc6aOMs6e5QyiG9FAn0it_p-Qc-oG06y1L1kh7zbal41a2irdgZub6aNltZI71rpEeZBF_Si75vhAneYV00nPUnRCWFTytZQ8ZYZ_WJVxqTBcn9xaJBVwnhtP-_HQJQxpw9O/s1600/IMG_1821.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwok-h7uezc6aOMs6e5QyiG9FAn0it_p-Qc-oG06y1L1kh7zbal41a2irdgZub6aNltZI71rpEeZBF_Si75vhAneYV00nPUnRCWFTytZQ8ZYZ_WJVxqTBcn9xaJBVwnhtP-_HQJQxpw9O/s400/IMG_1821.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490588555146386706" border="0" /></a><br />And here is the fruit of her labor: Donde' esta tu pescado?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj226z657TfzlH_iJpzrXii8O6Xe43C-47i03yOk4-izPxiqUkKjnz59MDTnwYCanRDf6A-6kwhtEXm38tHYa1-gnFah8-cxKYoCf5kTTrspT3R9Xy34hGrJUwLzitJFmoZI3JfwthUohFT/s1600/IMG_1823.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj226z657TfzlH_iJpzrXii8O6Xe43C-47i03yOk4-izPxiqUkKjnz59MDTnwYCanRDf6A-6kwhtEXm38tHYa1-gnFah8-cxKYoCf5kTTrspT3R9Xy34hGrJUwLzitJFmoZI3JfwthUohFT/s400/IMG_1823.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490592062337743730" border="0" /></a>More to come...Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-24300747824289802242010-04-08T14:12:00.003-05:002010-04-08T14:39:48.806-05:00Photo UpdateLife has been hectic. I will have much more to share come May but until then I'll just post some recent photos from Easter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAvWOFGlLe-q-0rTIThPSYKH-UBJL8YY4md19_XP3YvNYNIPRY9TVZTQ-wQ3fh_L1OW9CFHYjQM82sz-9ZDbk0TJkOlmXtPB1BWvAkGuDE994mo_vQYmEcDHjookz84D8rawT2-UKmCIz/s1600/IMG_1602.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAvWOFGlLe-q-0rTIThPSYKH-UBJL8YY4md19_XP3YvNYNIPRY9TVZTQ-wQ3fh_L1OW9CFHYjQM82sz-9ZDbk0TJkOlmXtPB1BWvAkGuDE994mo_vQYmEcDHjookz84D8rawT2-UKmCIz/s400/IMG_1602.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457851288324899058" border="0" /></a><br />Davy had her first two Easter egg hunts. She can't quite pronounce egg - it sounded more like "I-agg." But she really got into it. And she talks so much now! Lots of jibberish and jabbering but her most repeated phrases are "that's Momma/Dada/anyone else whose name she can say", "Go bye bye!" and of course, "I poo-poo."<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlivXsOi-Qx2gd7RkX-Q4gR5qec-V5Mnt80ESVSBAQVHJUBBnCB6c7VFGd_kh_rMeQdV9m8L0g3rvv_NnzUfVbVFbzA24EONlQIeZZAHqeT77y90LRi6zPBjXRphtDJ-88KlLqSMq5EAiu/s1600/IMG_1626.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlivXsOi-Qx2gd7RkX-Q4gR5qec-V5Mnt80ESVSBAQVHJUBBnCB6c7VFGd_kh_rMeQdV9m8L0g3rvv_NnzUfVbVFbzA24EONlQIeZZAHqeT77y90LRi6zPBjXRphtDJ-88KlLqSMq5EAiu/s400/IMG_1626.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457851302205105506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBjpdx12oo1k3WK0GGeZiM4XgkzOSZaknd_4sRGN2ch123Hke29S3ho6ES2PRGupOwirImJ_YVijqqMoXouuo_nTw8hmt0tOFZt9kP7kvmednbZEwE7FO9rLm5qT7oitAWryB4Ih5L0GB/s1600/IMG_1633.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBjpdx12oo1k3WK0GGeZiM4XgkzOSZaknd_4sRGN2ch123Hke29S3ho6ES2PRGupOwirImJ_YVijqqMoXouuo_nTw8hmt0tOFZt9kP7kvmednbZEwE7FO9rLm5qT7oitAWryB4Ih5L0GB/s400/IMG_1633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457851314459247138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdsfvaxVWuKxi8UfB25o1Hr2RCmY4TGMMVfBro8-L-Eae1dwv-D4kbnAIx129GPgnpCVICMG1sJ7igPCCJCHLER8gYiQ6CoeYNqDNNLcDF8DxP98DX2MRCstBVY7zEEAHxF8Lp2Ox2_L-/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdsfvaxVWuKxi8UfB25o1Hr2RCmY4TGMMVfBro8-L-Eae1dwv-D4kbnAIx129GPgnpCVICMG1sJ7igPCCJCHLER8gYiQ6CoeYNqDNNLcDF8DxP98DX2MRCstBVY7zEEAHxF8Lp2Ox2_L-/s400/IMG_1641.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457851317624660034" border="0" /></a><br />Airplane! I took about 5 different shots here but she could only talk about the planes overhead.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtk8NAB_jCirpx7jDxbqMkWrzWUeeB8E60Jsc3ZiGjfHg8H21RlJ72FYe8-gMEOYpGzHHePi3QvihTfFLmvvP-8nDoM1MGXWFNFO09ZasoFILXa4z2XP6MfUr8Zwgv8TgRx6eaHo9yKwC/s1600/IMG_1685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtk8NAB_jCirpx7jDxbqMkWrzWUeeB8E60Jsc3ZiGjfHg8H21RlJ72FYe8-gMEOYpGzHHePi3QvihTfFLmvvP-8nDoM1MGXWFNFO09ZasoFILXa4z2XP6MfUr8Zwgv8TgRx6eaHo9yKwC/s400/IMG_1685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457851326421224114" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I hate this photo. Easter was muggy & warm and since we went to the 8am service, I didn't have time to shower and get all ShaNaNaNaNa. Russ and I were so beat by the time we took this photo but since we're terrible about taking family shots, here you go.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-76854415621434544752010-03-17T08:25:00.003-05:002010-03-17T09:19:19.994-05:00Food, Inc.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.respond-design.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/food-inc-poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.respond-design.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/food-inc-poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I am so sleep deprived this morning, so bear with me. This could very well sound like a rant but I would be remiss and completely disobedient to not post about this. <br /><br />I had been wanting to watch the movie, "Food, Inc." for quite awhile. My hesitation to do so was the thought that it would make me sick to my stomach or pressure a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle. It did neither of these, by the way, so if these are reasons you've yet to see it, please - watch it now!<br /><br />Just over a year ago Russ began seeing a <a href="http://www.ndamc.com/">homeopathic doctor</a> to treat his blood pressure without medication. That began a long journey for us in learning about food and how it can be used to heal medical problems. It hasn't been a fun journey. We've relapsed almost weekly. But after watching this documentary last night, I'm more than ever convinced that so much of what we've been learning is essential and needs to be practiced as routinely as possible.<br /><br />I rarely eat beef. I do love a steak from Capital Grill every once in awhile. I'm not a huge burger girl. I will probably completely discontinue eating burgers for several reasons now: after learning about the problem with feeding corn to cattle and 1) what it does to the cow plus 2) what it does to my own body (I'm talking about e coli issues), I just feel sickened. <br /><br />If you can stomach it, <span style="font-weight: bold;">please</span> go watch <a href="http://www.humanesociety.org/news/news/2009/10/calf_investigation_103009.html">THIS VIDEO</a> by the Humane Society documenting calf abuse at a slaughter plant in Vermont.<br /><br />I am convinced that beef and chicken can be good for the human body. However, I am also convinced that our food industry is suffering from the same issues that are rampant across our country and bringing about the financial enslavement of those in the lower eschalons of our tax brackets. When lower income familes cannot afford fruits and vegetables in local grocery stores, they are forced to put money into the pockets of large conglomerates like most fast food chains that offer the almighty Dollar Menu. <br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XoRNnCoEx-k&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XoRNnCoEx-k&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />A growing problem in America is the "corporatocracy": private corporations and conglomerates control our government when their executives end up in different branches of our government. Do you know who <span style="font-weight: bold;">Monsanto</span> is? I didn't. <a href="http://www.organicconsumers.org/monlink.cfm"> Monsanto has gained a monopoly that has had devastating effects on the American farmer.</a> (By the way, Monsanto invented Agent Orange.) If you never watch "Food, Inc.", please educate yourself about the corporatocracy happening in our food industry. Your health and the health of your children is at stake. <br /><br />Stuff I've been doing:<br /><ul><li>Buy Organic. Yes, it's more expensive. Shopping with a conscience will put a strain on your wallet but you can buy smarter at most large grocery stores, Walmart included.</li><li>Buy local. See if your town has a Farmer's Market. <a href="http://www.dallasfarmersmarket.org/">Dallas has an excellent one</a>. I miss living across the street from it.</li><li>When you crave a burger, choose grass-fed beef. Simply staying away from McDonald's (listen, I love me some McDonald's fries - I'm not hatin'!) or other fast food chains can make a difference in the treatment of cattle. <br /></li><li>Buy range-free eggs. Our family eats eggs every.single.day. That small decision can greatly effect Tyson - one of the conglomerates I was warning about above.</li><li>Check labels. For every staple in your diet, there is corn syrup in that food that is fueling the food industry's obsession with chemically manufactured food. DO NOT BUY FOOD WITH HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP. Yes, I know this is most sodas. You'll be surprised by how much better you feel on plain, 'ol H2O.</li></ul>Stuff I Will Start Doing:<br /><ul><li>Look into food co-ops. <a href="http://themovementdallas.wordpress.com/category/organic-co-op/">This one takes place across the street from my office</a>. Hmmm, easy?</li><li>Plant a garden. I've been saying this for so long. After watching the movie, Russ prayed that we'd get our butts in gear in learning how to do this.</li><li>Buy produce in season. This one little choice can greatly effect our supermarkets and the conglomerates who control our food.</li></ul>Things to know:<br /><ul><li>Monsanto now controls 93 % of soybeans and 80% of corn grown in the US.</li><li>Tyson, Cargill, Swift and National Beef Packing Company control 83% of the beef packing industry.</li><li>Smithfield, Tyson, Swift and Cargill control 66% of the pork packing industry.</li><li>AVOID THESE COMPANIES WHEN POSSIBLE.<br /></li></ul>Over & out. I am in dire need of a nap but the future on that looks bleak!Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-12746094668091384392010-02-19T10:11:00.004-06:002010-02-19T10:46:37.707-06:00The Answer<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DmzDDzXBj9g&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DmzDDzXBj9g&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />I've realized something: music is a medium by which I feel closest to God. I spent my morning off scouring YouTube for videos of songs I love. The video above is called "The Answer" by Shane Barnard & Shane Everett. And I'm going to go out on a limb to say that this song has probably had the most impact on my life than any other song. Gasp! I know!<br /><br />In 2002 I went through a debilitating clinical depression. It had probably been brewing for almost a year before and I certainly handled it in ways that only exacerbated my symptoms. I had no idea what was happening to me partly because I'm a performance-driven person and partly because I had never experienced anything like it before. As the symptoms mounted, I even decided on a date for my suicide, worked out a plan.* If you've been through a depression you know what happened to me: exhaustion, insurmountable self-loathing, loss of interest in work and friends, crying jags, loneliness and unending emptiness. It was like God went and hid behind the clouds.<br /><br />Music would sometimes make the clouds part. I could sense God in those moments and the reprieve from the crushing sorrow was refreshing. This song was probably played more by me in the summer of '02 than I can ever recall. Because I was in full-time youth ministry during that time, depression felt like I was marked for ruin. It was while I was on a mission trip to the mountains of Venezuela that I discovered this song on the album "Psalms". I would listen to "The Answer" over and over as a means of separating myself from the idea that I had become <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/anathema">anathema</a>.<br /><br />"I have found the answer is to love You and be loved by You alone. All right.<br />You crucified me and the world to me<br />And I will only boast in You. All right."<br /><br />That was all I had.<br /><br /><a href="http://ktontheloose.blogspot.com/">Katy</a>, you'll remember this: our <a href="http://www.klife.com/">K-Life</a> group had a golf tournament during that summer and because I was so completely physically & mentally exhausted, I spent the entire time worrying that people could see through me and that they were discussing my failures and shortcomings every time I turned my back. The paranoia was awful. But I made it through the day, fake smile on my face and my body feeling like it would collapse. As soon as I got in my car, I immediately turned on this song and I can remember sensing that the Lord was truly smiling down on me. That He was there, in my car, that He loved me, that He was carrying me. I wept and wept and played this song on repeat while I drove home.<br /><br />The truth became clear much later (after therapy and a year of working the 12 Steps): I was never meant to be "good enough" for youth ministry. I was never meant to boast in myself or fill up on myself. The Answer was that I've been crucified in Christ (Gal. 2:20) and I have nothing to boast in but Him (Eph. 2:9). Who knew the pathway out of depression was that simple?<br /><br />ANYWAY: that was a LOT of history to tell you that God has used music in my life to rescue me from depression, to draw me to His side, to give me moments of joy, to help me express myself, to make sense of Scripture...the list goes on. Are you like me? Or do you have other mediums by which you feel near to the side of God?<br /><br /><a href="http://common.northpoint.org/sacredpathway.html">Go here</a> to find out how you experience closeness to God.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Quiz from Sacred Pathway by Gary Thomas. </span><br /><br />*<span style="font-size:85%;">If you are experiencing symptoms like these and think you might be suffering from depression, you can <a href="http://www.aacc.net/resources/find-a-counselor/">go here</a> to find a Christian counselor near you.</span>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-34091766028098836912010-02-11T12:25:00.003-06:002010-02-11T12:40:43.441-06:00Snow Angel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jC6pNEldrSZOO4k3eCWU4dXTGzufLvRK614P2ndKG9nTVkeIbRwzDvlz1sQcMacHTT1e2JJHQ2WktpnkU_CDnEn70foaAaZvIa8qpcR7om4W8fqZCgH2PxC6-tQndol_k-FFX_bCpHgN/s1600-h/IMG_1562.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jC6pNEldrSZOO4k3eCWU4dXTGzufLvRK614P2ndKG9nTVkeIbRwzDvlz1sQcMacHTT1e2JJHQ2WktpnkU_CDnEn70foaAaZvIa8qpcR7om4W8fqZCgH2PxC6-tQndol_k-FFX_bCpHgN/s400/IMG_1562.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437055515685005746" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-r6mdMOLX7sZGR2U8XfGIqQD7hlkfxp8Mj4hpGRcs1NmOIoJqA79kqEGG6GYjiGZ1DXqsOVqZWeFGTHczayEIHbcWufYDGNOixvzOKIneIqI2qSn9nc9aCfqldyjhe_hax78kOy8lBlf/s1600-h/IMG_1560.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-r6mdMOLX7sZGR2U8XfGIqQD7hlkfxp8Mj4hpGRcs1NmOIoJqA79kqEGG6GYjiGZ1DXqsOVqZWeFGTHczayEIHbcWufYDGNOixvzOKIneIqI2qSn9nc9aCfqldyjhe_hax78kOy8lBlf/s400/IMG_1560.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437055507695602498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8AO6oANbNdnP9isBodEj963MWTXVBUiC8cgT8GN6KtSF2n5UDrFqsvg68NHD8st8jURIgmv_McXKfECC9sxhz-tfodrN0P5EAzI8PUsj9td7EHXW6UA8UgXjNbqgOr1LJghO1-ueIG3u/s1600-h/IMG_1555.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8AO6oANbNdnP9isBodEj963MWTXVBUiC8cgT8GN6KtSF2n5UDrFqsvg68NHD8st8jURIgmv_McXKfECC9sxhz-tfodrN0P5EAzI8PUsj9td7EHXW6UA8UgXjNbqgOr1LJghO1-ueIG3u/s400/IMG_1555.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437055497947284002" border="0" /></a><br />The snow is beautiful but my poor child looks like a vagrant: Christmas jammies, toggle coat, oversized pastel mittens 'n stocking cap and feaux Uggs that won't stay zipped. Everyone loves a hot mess.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-35533616030133614412010-02-11T10:36:00.003-06:002010-02-11T10:51:25.694-06:00Thoughts from the TundraIt's snowing lovely big, fat flakes right now and Lil' Bit is taking an early nap. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ahhh</span>. Just finished the coffee pot and wish I had some profound thoughts to spatter here but, alas, I got <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nothin</span>'.<br /><br />So I'll share a random memory.<br /><br />Growing up with my younger brother was often a lesson in patience when it came to the dinner table. Josh was the quintessential picky eater in our family. He often turned his nose up at the most simple of meals. I remember (fondly?) the night when my dad warned him that if he didn't finish the rest of his hot dog, by God he was gonna get a spanking. Josh sat for hours with that 'dog stuck in his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">chaw</span>, after the plates had been cleared, the table wiped down...and eventually in the dark when we all simply left the room. Kid had an iron will.<br /><br />Anyway, as he got older Josh discovered <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">barbecue</span> sauce. But by "discovered" I mean that it became like his mealtime <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">blankie</span>, something that was required for him to hold a fork in hand. It was often my job to set the table for meals and I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">frickin</span>' hated when my Mom would ask, a bit anxiously, "did you remember the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">barbecue</span> sauce?" <br /><br />As a Southerner, it's a requirement for you to be a fan of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">barbecue</span>. But after years and years of smelling that crap doused over all kinds of food - eggs, sandwiches, pork chops, tacos - I got to the place where just the slightest whiff of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">barbecue</span> sauce could turn my stomach. Even long after I had moved away and lived on my own, I still had a bad reaction. Once at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Kanakuk</span>, someone saw me turn my nose up at the mention of BBQ and asked, "girl, what kinda person hates <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">barbecue</span>? You must hate <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">kissin</span>', too!"*<br /><br />You guys have any bad memories associated with certain foods?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*no, indeed kissing is still on my list of favorites.</span>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-52240714090107141922010-02-06T10:13:00.003-06:002010-02-06T10:20:05.057-06:00Snapshots from Haiti<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://files.posterous.com/missywilliams/BA1hTxAvdNQYq6dWl8jgo8yZP5b5iwu07ImRAIGDaljJ0XYQATJzbRPwK0gy/IMG_7311.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=1C9REJR1EMRZ83Q7QRG2&Expires=1265473470&Signature=GlHM4BzhFWWz9iNPusTVN%2FXeuhI%3D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 648px; height: 848px;" src="http://files.posterous.com/missywilliams/BA1hTxAvdNQYq6dWl8jgo8yZP5b5iwu07ImRAIGDaljJ0XYQATJzbRPwK0gy/IMG_7311.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=1C9REJR1EMRZ83Q7QRG2&Expires=1265473470&Signature=GlHM4BzhFWWz9iNPusTVN%2FXeuhI%3D" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />My friend Missy has spent this past week in Haiti with a group called Visiting Orphans. She is staying in an orphanage far outside of Port au Prince where many other orphans are being transferred to for safety. Many of the kids were made orphans by the earthquake.<br /><br />Anyway, Missy has been blogging about the trip and this post tells a few short stories via some photos. (Missy, were these all done on your iPhone?)<br /><a href="http://missywilliams.posterous.com/day-2-in-photos"><br />Check it out.</a>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-28867027078377176542010-02-03T08:31:00.003-06:002010-02-03T08:39:30.361-06:00On Managing Anxiety<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blog.lifesip.com/images/yoga-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 359px;" src="http://blog.lifesip.com/images/yoga-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.fussy.org/2010/01/dont-give-it-what-it-wants.html#links">Eden says it better than I can today.</a><br /><br />For what it's worth, I believe that managing your breath has quite a bit to do with overcoming anxiety. A wise man, Mr. Bill Orender, taught me about deep breathing exercises about 6 years ago when I was suffering from panic attacks. I bet you don't realize how shallow you are breathing all day long, as you drive around town, running late from errand to errand and cranking in the caffeine to keep your system hoppin'.<br /><br />I'm also a firm believer in yoga. It's not a religion for me - it's a workout in detaching from the physical pain of my body and the emotional pain trapped in my breath and my mind.*<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*someone's gonna read this and go, "oh brother, it all started when she began reading those awful Harry Potter books! Pagan!"</span>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-13814854067992014902010-01-21T09:42:00.001-06:002010-01-21T09:45:15.317-06:00Fashion Slave<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpF4CXlaAKRQGHCCpltTqpGWG8sBZfrN7KSk1PoX5lU9frG1-geTT_huBZrjVxNLQweW1Sxm_p3-rqqGxU88T95EjavDELASqUQtO_H8DazqI4YMln-KHJM2l2djVtjK5r9sVQx4a-Q1u/s1600-h/photo(6).jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpF4CXlaAKRQGHCCpltTqpGWG8sBZfrN7KSk1PoX5lU9frG1-geTT_huBZrjVxNLQweW1Sxm_p3-rqqGxU88T95EjavDELASqUQtO_H8DazqI4YMln-KHJM2l2djVtjK5r9sVQx4a-Q1u/s400/photo(6).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429219217332758130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-hbKkaczsXfqZYN6k_D6HPRc_eEV-vtozdCkRD2D2ZM2eZsHMO2NB7q8RwWkoa-rYM6Cs8D96iFsXOvOHuFEw1DHrjLSZwydFsmuSvyFl8KEhDxmZ8k8dxO1VW9wubTVXk7SOY5cX7l2/s1600-h/photo(5).jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-hbKkaczsXfqZYN6k_D6HPRc_eEV-vtozdCkRD2D2ZM2eZsHMO2NB7q8RwWkoa-rYM6Cs8D96iFsXOvOHuFEw1DHrjLSZwydFsmuSvyFl8KEhDxmZ8k8dxO1VW9wubTVXk7SOY5cX7l2/s400/photo(5).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429219206470779746" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OTjHxnWW2k8iNK4LrmzhxzEs24dLUkfx9vWtXMZCCPoAa5M0UbsU67nanJMFE5SQD1Now39MivymIf6xq0T635ah2xbTt8vskcWjMoSjJoUYuhiLBVAnD1th-LGDAKD5HxMlAwpbeaZQ/s1600-h/photo(2).jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OTjHxnWW2k8iNK4LrmzhxzEs24dLUkfx9vWtXMZCCPoAa5M0UbsU67nanJMFE5SQD1Now39MivymIf6xq0T635ah2xbTt8vskcWjMoSjJoUYuhiLBVAnD1th-LGDAKD5HxMlAwpbeaZQ/s400/photo(2).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429219200694298034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOBUf0Xb9dyCvzgpCFuo6o1TRNeQayXjup9w3r6ZUIlBFfLwPnydP9NHnS55Cx_0r917C9blrkiw2wR-nhlqEWRu1U3mprH8zbq-7a2sjC0e_INv0-jiX8TI4r4c10EpcbynRarOqW7MV/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOBUf0Xb9dyCvzgpCFuo6o1TRNeQayXjup9w3r6ZUIlBFfLwPnydP9NHnS55Cx_0r917C9blrkiw2wR-nhlqEWRu1U3mprH8zbq-7a2sjC0e_INv0-jiX8TI4r4c10EpcbynRarOqW7MV/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429219200158237330" border="0" /></a><br />I really think the Blankie completes this fashion statement, don't you?Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-14903623718184959162010-01-20T12:57:00.003-06:002010-01-20T14:20:20.341-06:00I Knew Her When...<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/4b5751b560f6753d/4741e3c5156499a7/7df90db2/-cpid/765e914deae665f" id="W4727a250e66f97234b5751b560f6753d" height="283" width="384"><param name="movie" value="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/4b5751b560f6753d/4741e3c5156499a7/7df90db2/-cpid/765e914deae665f"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></object><br /><br />I saw this commercial the other day and did a quick double-take. I recognized the daughter. I knew it. In fact, I had just seen a re-run of Arrested Development (God rest its soul) and had the same double-take.<br /><br /><object height="296" width="512"><param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/yKH08mhi2bmKWNYcamXf4A"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/yKH08mhi2bmKWNYcamXf4A" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="296" width="512"></embed></object><br /><br />Oh, hello little girl from "When a Man Loves a Woman"!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://film.virtual-history.com/photo/06/large/06954.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 421px;" src="http://film.virtual-history.com/photo/06/large/06954.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Now, see the girl on the right? I just saw <span style="font-style: italic;">her </span>in another sitcom ad!<br /><br /><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ejbFWgzmCd8&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ejbFWgzmCd8&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br />AHHH! Everywhere there are reminders that I am just.getting.old.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-29412361382508245102010-01-14T16:34:00.004-06:002010-01-14T20:35:17.836-06:00Momma's Got A Brand New Bag(Sometimes I hate trying to come up with post titles)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=12014609"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=12014609" alt="" border="0" /></a>I bought this today at Target. This photo doesn't do it justice, however. The inside contains several sections, including a padded one for my laptop. There is a wallet compartment, a phone compartment, and something perfect for diapers. See, I'm not really a purse person. Don't get me wrong, I love great bags. But I hate toting a purse around and I tend to get tired of them very easily. Also, I can't justify spending loads of cash on a purse that I'm going to toss in the backseat and onto the floor of the ladies room and spill apple juice inside of...you get my drift.<br /><br />I currently carry a canvas bag from J.Crew:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bellevueshops.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/jcrew-light-boardwalk-city.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 348px; height: 348px;" src="http://www.bellevueshops.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/jcrew-light-boardwalk-city.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a>Loved it for about 4 months. It's just simple enough to work for me. But the downsides are: no sturdy bottom so the purse leans to whichever side carries the most weight, a canvas bottom so it will need a good washing by now, and only one small zip pocket with no other compartments. It served it's purpose for 4 months and now I'm moving on to a bag more suited for work/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mommydom</span>.<br /><br />My ideal bag would be stylish but have the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">accoutrement</span>s of a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Mountainsmith</span> pack:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51jEmS3ppOL._AA280_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51jEmS3ppOL._AA280_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I loved this pack. It totally worked for my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kanakuk</span>/K-Life days. You know, 'cause I had to carry my bible, and my Beth Moore bible study, and my journal...my life was so WILD! Seriously though, why doesn't <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Mountainsmith</span> make diaper bags?<br /><br />On a totally different note, Russ and I have begun* the P90X workouts. I'm scared to even mention this because it means...dun dun dun...accountability. But I need to let folks know so they understand why I must grab the back of my knees to ensure that I can pick my legs up to move them forward. Or why sitting up might bring a torrent of hot, salty tears from my eyes.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*I said BEGUN! I can't promise anything more than that, people.</span>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-42741375781296685742010-01-07T10:28:00.001-06:002010-01-07T10:30:11.795-06:00Ginormous Child<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wsqokdWgsevzrDcsAzBlTWf4tLiYmQ29nwWGZWb_0_f8rTZwIZjACSDlnOciXmt7JOnYgp1xeTywOjziPlM_mXNHuw8ix5k8Hvo2hNcyjR-7y3r71T2tv-bSflLWy3IHINAZdUHMAxD0/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wsqokdWgsevzrDcsAzBlTWf4tLiYmQ29nwWGZWb_0_f8rTZwIZjACSDlnOciXmt7JOnYgp1xeTywOjziPlM_mXNHuw8ix5k8Hvo2hNcyjR-7y3r71T2tv-bSflLWy3IHINAZdUHMAxD0/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424035893383388050" border="0" /></a><br />See? A Photo! Sister was not a fan of those mittens.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-37918554770396232082010-01-07T09:47:00.002-06:002010-01-07T10:10:19.854-06:00MisdirectionI'm ashamed to have stayed away from here for over a month. I typically stop reading if someone waits so long to post. I've been thinking about deleting this blog, mostly because I don't know what I'm doing here. The list of blogs I read are mostly family and friends, who may or may not post regularly, then friends of friends who post daily, then mommy/design blogs. Confession: When I read mommy/design blogs (ie: the blogs of other mothers who are crafty, take amazing photos and/or do tutorials on their sites like "how to sew a designer diaper bag") I typically come away with a fair amount of self-loathing and insecurity. I'm lucky to snap a blurry photo of Davy eating dog food taken from my iPhone to put here. <br /><br />I really, really, really wish that I had an ounce of decorating savvy and that I had enough time/money to redecorate a room and publish high quality shots of the entire event. Because these are the types of things I like to read on other blogs. Then I can compare myself and walk away with that satisfying dose of insecurity and self-pity!<br /><br />What I do for the majority of my day is sit with people and hear incredible stories or terribly sad incidents or share in the beauty of watching God move in the life of someone who had previously had no presence of Hope in their lives. But I cannot talk about that here. It's all very interesting and even exciting but it needs to stay locked in my office where it belongs. It's safe there and not at all safe if I were I to share it! (Those who know me best know I can be lacking in discretion. Hey! Here's my office number!) But seriously, counseling happens to be one thing I have a talent for - oh how I wish I could use this as an avenue to brag about that! (Note: I'm being sarcastic - it is my belief that good counseling has little to do with the counselor herself...it's a Holy Spirit thing.)<br /><br />Anyway, this leads me back to the understanding that what I do with my day cannot be shared here and cannot be the purpose for this blog. And because I'm not a super-mommy or even a super-photog, I don't think that documenting Davy's life here is the purpose for this blog. <br /><br />I do love to read. A lot. In fact, it's one of the reasons I haven't said anything here for awhile. I thought about doing more book reviews. (You'd much rather come here than Goodreads or Amazon, right?!)<br /><br />Several friends have bugged me to write. As in, get published. Ha! Now, I have a plethora of good stories, mostly because I am a magnet for embarrassing moments of the poop variety. But I don't know if I could be a good writer. I might try to share more stories here....we'll see. There are many moments in a day when I think, "I should blog about this!" But they are fleeting and superficial...and maybe that's what this place needs... If you stop by here, would you stop & offer feedback? What would you like to see?<br /><br />(I have to pause and point out my codependecy here: "Hey guys? This is my blog. What would you like me to do with it?" Ugh. It's exhausting to be this much of a people-pleaser.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-50852303579437152462009-11-30T19:19:00.006-06:002009-11-30T20:42:13.026-06:00Lovey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQbsSjA3yTC08rsTUSsfskqRkolBTFalLvWn2WzQ7kYYhHx9WQ1_qqr6cS2eYrCYwdaQkUsoDA-Z0R7I3ZiWlUxKupXZdAnEH-VYXmhjcxyJ_lkLjBrIG2TYwb-XXc0KzeypYGqmDm88Q/s1600/Superperson.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQbsSjA3yTC08rsTUSsfskqRkolBTFalLvWn2WzQ7kYYhHx9WQ1_qqr6cS2eYrCYwdaQkUsoDA-Z0R7I3ZiWlUxKupXZdAnEH-VYXmhjcxyJ_lkLjBrIG2TYwb-XXc0KzeypYGqmDm88Q/s320/Superperson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410073065107662562" border="0" /></a><br />The hubs is a Superperson, in case you can't tell from his 1978 tee.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD73L0lJayVVDE5-g1XTO4izs4Ce5X8bMdUGhSJluzszgqMkfpFm58_9EEWmtYqbWUe3q_1f5L8_NzX8UQxAkIw6F1pSrMQO5MsG_JXQOEVsfcOsM0yTo1yQPtDew_gY7vlg_6ygZUZpyw/s1600/Russ+1978.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD73L0lJayVVDE5-g1XTO4izs4Ce5X8bMdUGhSJluzszgqMkfpFm58_9EEWmtYqbWUe3q_1f5L8_NzX8UQxAkIw6F1pSrMQO5MsG_JXQOEVsfcOsM0yTo1yQPtDew_gY7vlg_6ygZUZpyw/s320/Russ+1978.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410073058020855090" border="0" /></a><br />Look, even back then, he was a sweet, laid back boy. Truly, the guy is in his element when he can just relax and talk one on one with someone - a quality that quickly (is 9 months quick?) sucked me in...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOmSQ4CU5-AZ_JMD6Pk3-IwlwaqubPv8W6QkTiH8Ymv94R-vqrJI_PqC_uBUPUpH00K9L6D5Sp70iwnLAsh4b9DcUZw4INkddemp54p97QgR4iZY9ykNH4n7fNPGJEnQw1vphYuCtfdjb/s1600/Puddy+Pie+sleeping.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOmSQ4CU5-AZ_JMD6Pk3-IwlwaqubPv8W6QkTiH8Ymv94R-vqrJI_PqC_uBUPUpH00K9L6D5Sp70iwnLAsh4b9DcUZw4INkddemp54p97QgR4iZY9ykNH4n7fNPGJEnQw1vphYuCtfdjb/s320/Puddy+Pie+sleeping.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410072914667858114" border="0" /></a><br />This one is my favorite. So tuckered out. Dirty jeans. Dirty face. Boys, you know?<br /><br />I married the coolest guy ever. Sorry. He's taken.<br /><br />Happy Birthday to Russ! My sweet boy!Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-52705068704676884862009-11-21T09:39:00.004-06:002009-11-21T10:58:32.511-06:00Recasting Twilight<span style="font-style: italic;">If you are burnt out on the </span><span>Twilight </span><span style="font-style: italic;">phenomenon, please know that so am I. This post was written out of sheer annoyance.</span><br /><br />Confession: I read all the <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span> books in a matter of a week and a half, voraciously devouring them (which is not hard considering they are akin to a "beach read" as far as depth & plot go) and reading late into the night. But. I thought the first movie was worse than a bad after-school special. Just terrible acting, worse casting, and the hair dye on the majority of the cast? Ohmalord.<br /><br />Exhibit A:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://mimg.ugo.com/200802/3975/twilight_cast.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 272px;" src="http://mimg.ugo.com/200802/3975/twilight_cast.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The Cullen family is a joke to me. Peter Facinelli as Carlisle? Seriously? And the bottle blond hair? It's despicable! I was truly disappointed and thought I'd make some casting changes to improve this bajillion dollar trainwreck.<br /><br />So let's start with Carlisle. Forgive me for not buying into Mike from "Can't Hardly Wait" as Dr. Cullen!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tvgasm.com/shows/mike_dexter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 433px; height: 243px;" src="http://www.tvgasm.com/shows/mike_dexter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I'd go for this guy instead:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.silverfeast.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/john_slattery.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.silverfeast.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/john_slattery.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />If you don't find John Slattery attractive enough, check your pulse. After all, Carlisle Cullen needs to have just the right air of youth and sophistocation to be believable.<br /><br />And what about that chick playing Rosalie?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://theofficaltwilightfansite.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/rosalie-hale.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://theofficaltwilightfansite.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/rosalie-hale.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I don't know who Nikki Reed is, but I do know she's a natural brunette with tan skin. NOT A FIT! Rosalie is supposed to be beautiful, pale, and <span style="font-style: italic;">be able to act her way out of a paper sack. </span>I was so disappointed with Ms. Reed in the first movie. My choice for Rosalie would be:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqEdHmgkNhBDgyshwaTSlmyy2hyphenhyphenDx5tIj_haiPR8blbwhRuosUuP-ZDPypYKjRj-RxqW1BKKcAhid_SV5ijSOYmiFihoQRHDt51a8znWuBejuXQ42SvgY1uFoXgxqxo02Guhp56-nKRhii/s400/amanda+seyfried.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqEdHmgkNhBDgyshwaTSlmyy2hyphenhyphenDx5tIj_haiPR8blbwhRuosUuP-ZDPypYKjRj-RxqW1BKKcAhid_SV5ijSOYmiFihoQRHDt51a8znWuBejuXQ42SvgY1uFoXgxqxo02Guhp56-nKRhii/s400/amanda+seyfried.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />First of all, if you've ever watched "Big Love", you know that Amanda Seyfried can pull off the perfect amount of cold/yet cautious that the role of Rosalie calls for. Who's with me on this choice?<br /><br />...Now onto one of the most annoyingly disappointing cast mistakes: Bella's Dad. This was really irritating to me, as if the casting director needed each and every actor to look like some kind of arm candy! I know the vampires are supposed to be very attractive, but Mr. Swan is a mere human. I'd change him from this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=3131242"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=3131242" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />To this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.coenbrothers.net/images/simmons001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.coenbrothers.net/images/simmons001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> You've seen J.K. Simmons play a dad in both "Juno" and "I Love You Man". I think he'd do a much better job as Bella's OLDER, introverted father. And I'd like to see his more serious side in a movie.<br /><br />As far as Kristen Stewart as Bella, I'm fine with that. K-Stew plays the exact.same.person in every movie she has ever been in: pensive, tense, tight-lipped, boring, blah.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hotflick.net/flicks/2002_Panic_Room/002PNR_Kristen_Stewart_005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 852px; height: 480px;" src="http://www.hotflick.net/flicks/2002_Panic_Room/002PNR_Kristen_Stewart_005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>(<span style="font-style: italic;">Panic Room)<br /><br /></span>See? And here, too!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYlq1xacZbR6t_dSsErCqzcseLeq16ap65KYahzO_GuW9mvvacwdO6kFE3Wi4WnLEyOjio3h8Uh3EsQhHDETLU4rZJAfw14esPpHsnJyf1CEJFmk6Ff6_LKgYiEFocMKiLj5BM8Lt5O2U/s400/Adventureland+kristen+pool+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYlq1xacZbR6t_dSsErCqzcseLeq16ap65KYahzO_GuW9mvvacwdO6kFE3Wi4WnLEyOjio3h8Uh3EsQhHDETLU4rZJAfw14esPpHsnJyf1CEJFmk6Ff6_LKgYiEFocMKiLj5BM8Lt5O2U/s400/Adventureland+kristen+pool+2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">(Adventureland</span>)<br /><br /><br />And Bella is a serious girl. But now I'd just appreciate it if Ms. Stewart would recede into privacy. Because I'm getting about as burned out on her as I was on Beyonce' for awhile. (AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, <a href="http://ktontheloose.blogspot.com/">KATY</a>!)<br /><br />I'm a Team Edward kind of gal so I'm all for Rob Pattinson...except his faux American accent drives me batty...as does his "smell the fart" acting as Edward.<br /><br /><object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OzHh_HsLKi0&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OzHh_HsLKi0&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="340" width="560"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />Rob, I'd enjoy Edward a lot more if you'd just tone down your English accent. After all, back when Eddie Cullen was born, most American still sounded a bit like the Brits.<br /><br />That's it, folks. My rant is over.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-35510345604539881562009-11-19T09:15:00.002-06:002009-11-19T09:33:32.328-06:00Go Here for TherapyI know. It's been over a month and a half. For shame. It's just that my job requires so much thinking. And words. And depth. And I have nothing left to put here when I'm home. Also? My daughter walks and (tries to) talk now! So blogging has been pushed waaaay down on that To-do list.<br /><br />Due to all of the above, I've also stopped reading most of the blogs I used to keep up with. But this morning while Davy was busy not napping and squealing loudly from her bed, I wandered over to a blog I read every once in awhile. It never disappoints. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.mattlogelin.com/archives/2008/05/13/monday-7-week-birthday/">Matt lost his wife</a> the day after she gave birth to their daughter, Madeline. I've kept up with him on and off and spent a little time reading about their extended stay in India - where he first proposed to his wife. <a href="http://www.mattlogelin.com/archives/2009/10/15/somewhere/">I wiped away lots of tears today</a> and thought, Grief is truly a Journey.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-71067713683448078612009-10-08T08:49:00.003-05:002009-10-08T09:09:10.038-05:00Back From the GraveI know you've been checking back here repeatedly, dear followers (Mom), and must be curious about my absence. It's nothing exciting. Just a stomach virus. Last Monday night I lived through the one experience that I had been dreading: baby projectile vomiting. I used to see friends posting all the time on Facebook about their child being sick and throwing up all over the place. Each time I read something like that I'd begin furiously praying, "please God no may it never be" over and over. <br /><br />And yet - it happened. I was putting D to bed after a normal day and a normal bedtime routine. While I was wrapping her blankie around her she softly coughed, spat out her pacifier, and proceeded to go all Exorcist on me. Wow. A wall of chewed tomatoes, corn, string cheese, yogurt, blueberries and milk sprayed across the bed, missing the bed entirely (small thanks) and landing on me and the floor. I was stunned. I was literally frozen while it happened, much like I'd imagine most folks are during extremely traumatic moments.*<br /><br />Anyway, it happened um, around 11 more times that night so after 5 loads of laundry, 3 sessions of floor mopping, and two more baths, I knew I had been baptized into a more mature level of motherhood. That's the worst that motherhood gets, right? RIGHT? Okay, whew.<br /><br />On a not so funny side note, both Russ and I got sick as well. Only Russ got sick hardcore, as Russ has been known to do - summer of 2007 anyone?* 8 And now, even though he's better, he's losing weight as if, oh, say he's training for a half marathon. Only he's not. But I am. But I have lost jack diddly and am starting to think about secretly adding mayonnaise to everything I cook for him. Can anyone tell me why this happens with men? I can't figure out how I can run 25 miles a week and still hold onto weight like my body is some toddler clutching her toys to her: MINE!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*Yes, I just compared my child throwing up to the trauma of say, refugees in a war-torn nation or surviving cancer. Don't you want me for your therapist?<br /><br />**Ugh. I don't even like remembering the summer that Russ had some impossible to diagnose virus that made him run a high temp for 3 months and zapped all strength from him. Everyone avoided us like the plague and I had to mow the yard. THE TRAUMA I'VE ENDURED, PEOPLE!<br /></span>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-68840824810044261102009-09-21T20:44:00.003-05:002009-09-21T21:38:47.557-05:00StormsI am sitting on my back porch while a huge storm rolls in. Tree branches shaking, rain pelting our windows, the thunder is deafening - I will need to go inside soon and find refuge. It is a physical depiction of what my heart has been through the past week.<br /><br />Last week I got some bad news concerning some people I love and a place that has been dear to my heart. Someone who seemed as strong as one of the old live oaks in my back yard fell from grace in such a way that the damage will take years to clear away from so many lives. My mind couldn't even accept the truth when I heard it...denial, shock, anger, sorrow.<br /><br />Some folks who visit here don't know what I do for a living. I'm a counselor. This blog is not the place that I talk about my work. But I do hash out my emotions here. So, I can share that what I do at work all day is weather some very scary storms with people. I walk with people through pain. I hear bad news all day. It's hard. I don't write that to garner pity from anyone. But it takes it's toll at times. Most days I feel the weight of the privilege it is to hear the stories and share the burdens - I truly cherish my job.<br /><br />But the other morning as I was driving to a very early running workout I just began sobbing in my car. There were no other cars on the street and I had nothing to distract me. I began the dangerous business of thinking about this person who fell and about those who have been hurt by him. I also began thinking about several other people who I knew were hurting just then. And the only thing that came to my mind was: "Come, Lord Jesus."<br /><br />Sometimes this old world seems to hold so much pain and sorrow that the only comfort is to wish that Christ would return and make everything new. My goodness...the gratitude I have in knowing it is so much more than a wish...<br /><br />Just like this storm outside my window has forced me indoors, I believe in a Refuge, a Place to run for cover.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />For You have been a refuge for me,<br />A tower of strength against the enemy.<br />Psalm 61:3<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br />In one of the most quoted sonnets by Shakespeare, he talks about love.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />"Love is not love<br />Which alters when it alteration finds,<br />Or bends with the remover to remove;<br />O no! it is an ever-fixed mark<br />That looks on tempests and is never shaken."<br />(Sonnet 116)<br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>I need reminding that God is not shaken by all these storms in my life. This is how He loves me.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If you stopped by here will you pray with me for two people? <a href="http://rachaelneagle.wordpress.com/">Rachael'</a>s brother and sister-in-law gave birth last Friday to Connor, who died the same day he was born. Please pray for them as they grieve. I think of the empty nursery and I just can't keep it together. And will you pray also for <a href="http://andyandcari.blogspot.com/">Cari</a>? A year ago tomorrow her beautiful, chubby, happy baby girl Caden died suddenly. I have never met Cari but I am so grateful for her honesty as she writes with candor and tears about the road she is walking. I've been in love with Caden since I found her blog. I know tomorrow (9/22) will be a hard day. Thank you, Jesus, for giving us eternity to meet these two precious babies...<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div></div>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-60431204183622775972009-09-10T21:16:00.001-05:002009-09-10T21:18:44.267-05:00The Lovely Bones<object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ikUWKi0W5_g&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ikUWKi0W5_g&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br />This book deeply impacted me. It was scary, inspiring, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">heart wrenching</span> and just very sweet. Here's to hoping that Peter Jackson can do it justice...<br /><br />Thanks for the reminder, <a href="http://ktontheloose.blogspot.com/">Buns</a>!Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-33681591372921551252009-09-10T08:48:00.004-05:002009-09-10T09:24:52.712-05:00Life Lessons from the RoadSo I've been a little stale here. I've been lacking inspiration for writing. All day long I think of things to post and then time or lack of energy gets the best of me.<br /><br />But today's hill workout reminded me of a few truths I've learned since I became a runner 8 years ago. I always wanted to be a runner. It sounded very sexy. I had played sports all my life and even worked at a sports camp during my summers in college and afterwards. But running was my nemesis. Every time I'd head out for a run, I'd end up with side stitches, sometimes even puking on the side of the road. I felt insecure and never wanted to run with others because I knew they'd smoke me. I was sure that running and I, much like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWX4H8QsY98">Bella and Jacob</a>, were simply not meant to be.<br /><br />One hot July afternoon at the aforementioned sports camp, I was attempting a run (less than 3 miles) and was running up a long hill, paved with gravel, and a bible verse came shuttling into my brain: <span style="font-style: italic;">but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint (Isaiah 40:31)<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />See, I was so intent on becoming a runner that I had been praying, asking God, "please make me a runner!" When this verse came into my mind, and I am not exaggerating here, I looked up and there in the sky were not one, or two, but three eagles flying high above me. I'm not pulling your leg - it almost knocked the wind out of me. I slowed down and felt tears popping out of my eyes. <br /><br />And because I slowed down, I made it up that hill. And it was suddenly apparent to me - I had to slow down. I had to ask for help and I had to focus on something else beside the pain of running.<br /><br />8 years later and I've run 2 marathons, countless half marathons and have coached running classes for 6 years...and the following is what I've learned:<br /><br />1. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Slow down</span>. I can't say it enough: we take life way too fast. Much like those days when I have over-scheduled my life and left myself with little to no breathing room, going lickety-split will only serve to wear you out. Slow down. It took me a year to learn that I needed to be able to carry a conversation during a run. How true is that in life? If I'm too busy to talk to you, then I'm too damn busy. Slow.It.Down.<br /><br />2. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Go your own pace</span>. There will always be someone faster than you. There will always be someone slower than you. Don't compare yourself to them. It will only derail you. The minute you get focused on how great someone else is, you've lost the battle on coming to grips with who God made YOU to be.<br /><br />3. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Don't go alone</span>. Now listen: I've had hundreds of lovely runs by myself. They can be wonderful. But in the long run, if you're always by yourself, you're missing out. My dad has a motto, "there's two things you can't do by yourself: get married and be a Christian!" I think that life wasn't meant to be lived alone. Isolation is the beginnings of death. Running with others provides accountability, welcomed distraction, camaraderie, and friendship - all necessary for life!<br /><br />4. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Tune your mind into truth</span>. It is very easy on a run to let what one of my favorite authors calls "Bad Mind" take over. To quote Anne Lamott, "Bad Mind kicked in...It whispers to me that I am doomed because I am such a loser. And Bad Mind can lean ever so slightly toward paranoia." While running, as in life, I have to constantly change the channel of my mind from negativity to hope, trust, and perseverance. Will this be a hard workout? Probably. But look! The sun is coming up! My body is healthy! What a great way to start the day and thank you Lord for this lack of humidity! Be gone, Bad Mind! An old friend once described this process as keeping your head up and letting the dark clouds of your mind roll by...<br /><br />5. <span style="font-weight: bold;">The only person who can define you as a runner is you</span>. Years ago people would ask me, "are you a runner?" and my mouth would go dry. I would stammer and explain that yes, I run...but... I had a million excuses about how slow I was, how sometimes on a hard run I still had to walk. It took about 3 years of me coaching running classes to see how ridiculous this was! I'm a runner! So I run! In fact, that's what gets me up at 4:45am to do those crazy hill workouts. I'm a runner. So I behave like a runner...and runners run. I've had seasons when either injury, or insecurity, or simply life took me away from running. But that didn't change who I was. <br /><br />One last thing to add: SHOES. People, the right shoes will do wonders for you. If you're near Dallas, I highly recommend <a href="http://runontexas.com/">Run On!</a>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-18386489976166796402009-09-09T12:35:00.004-05:002009-09-09T12:46:19.564-05:00Misplaced<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hCkjF0_ihDQ&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hCkjF0_ihDQ&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">via <a href="http://donmilleris.com/">Don</a></span><br /><br />A few years ago our friends, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">McKeaiggs</span>, told us they were contemplating a move to Portland, OR. We felt a little shocked, as we'd begun to imagine hanging out with them for a few more decades. As we sat and casually listened to their thoughts about the possible move, nodding and "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hmmming</span>" as they reasoned with us, I was silently warring with myself. In my mind, I leaned over and grabbed fistfuls of Emily's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">blond</span> locks and screamed, TAKE ME WITH YOU!!!<br /><br />Sometimes I just don't feel at all like I *fit* in Dallas. I mean, I got <span style="font-style: italic;">tears</span> in my eyes watching that video, people. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the family and friends in our life here but I think about moving away probably several times a month. I suffer from a severe case of "grass is always greener." <br /><br />I will now console myself by remembering that Portland has nothing like the <a href="http://www.bigtex.com/">State Fair of Texas.</a>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-64692535871302740232009-08-27T15:16:00.004-05:002009-08-27T17:26:53.933-05:00Love in a Choke HoldThe other day I stopped by Chelsea's to talk and we let the girls run amok while we <s>drank wine</s> talked about important things. I glanced over to see Caroline gingerly putting her hands around Davy's neck and thought, "uh oh - let's see where this leads" only to watch as C placed a very tender kiss upon her cousin's cheek. Caroline is practicing to become the world's best big sister. (Get on the ball, Chels) Anyway, we made her do it about 30 more times so I could score a quick video...<br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzmxRMk7hnhqzfD-4r3xk_O99w_ZCgox5EmiC3FcwTEukdZx3QJ0BHbn66CWQDO5_qYj56OBaJGi1MYjmnlBA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-14420882488079849942009-08-24T21:16:00.002-05:002009-08-24T21:22:55.350-05:00In PerspectiveY'all. You know about me...and Bravo...and my "issues". Like how I am addicted to (err, "struggling with") watching all their shows and then contemplating how I would sit each and every castmember/famewhore down to love on them and explain why reality tv should never have (ever) been a wise decision for them.<br /><br />Enter Rachel Zoe.<br /><br /><object width="512" height="296"><param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/xdBKQyb8S3eKjKKi9kKRHw"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/xdBKQyb8S3eKjKKi9kKRHw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="512" height="296"></embed></object><br /><br />Um, gang? Ever heard of the Congo?<br /><br />I apologize for the really lame content, guys. I'm braindead - what can I say?Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586025703834025651.post-61516931285345354762009-08-14T21:04:00.010-05:002009-08-14T22:40:48.337-05:00Ode To My Baby Girl, on Her First Year(Warning: long hormonal post to follow)<br /><br />Lovey, nigh upon a year ago you went and turned my life upside down...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwrXVQKMB1zx-zva2kzm8WCGS9-7kEHPGaRY2sYhXwxSDSYLosw0Oc_T56RPQp4OkcJ_SYwSMWdxGEvD88vmoHeztvUCy_mk-0LmZEjAVHpOI1G4geImPi74Dv26Eu5vGbL9a_WPe6pL7/s1600-h/IMG_0753.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwrXVQKMB1zx-zva2kzm8WCGS9-7kEHPGaRY2sYhXwxSDSYLosw0Oc_T56RPQp4OkcJ_SYwSMWdxGEvD88vmoHeztvUCy_mk-0LmZEjAVHpOI1G4geImPi74Dv26Eu5vGbL9a_WPe6pL7/s320/IMG_0753.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370006514569363874" border="0" /></a><br /><br />See that? That's me, suddenly wondering who I am, and terrified that I might get lost in the terror of a newborn baby, something I up and did real quick so that navigation back to my former self would prove impossible. Dear Kathryn Davy, this past year you took me on the ride of my life. And I would do it over...and over...and over again. Because I've never experienced the kind of love that makes you realize the bridge to who you used to be has been burned and you can't go back and you're even GRATEFUL for that loss of your bearings. Onward ho! With no other choice!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AwFQNjd3VlRgJWuSl-ZfSGn1GkbH-kPUqbXFbk0pFDGI5XRbUUF8vEdp0x7fC0LewSZUPM-aSR4Yg0QMFlZZThqHCDFv6NfLAL66_AUDFVl-dItn6Q7zJW7C-yTO9v5AyMfEs3Kk5X9C/s1600-h/IMG_0487.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AwFQNjd3VlRgJWuSl-ZfSGn1GkbH-kPUqbXFbk0pFDGI5XRbUUF8vEdp0x7fC0LewSZUPM-aSR4Yg0QMFlZZThqHCDFv6NfLAL66_AUDFVl-dItn6Q7zJW7C-yTO9v5AyMfEs3Kk5X9C/s320/IMG_0487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370014391888531842" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Davy, you had only been a part of my life for a month or so when I realized that suddenly my life had become scarier. It wasn't just that your Daddy and I didn't know why you were always crying, though indeed that was terrifying. It wasn't that the whole breastfeeding thing had me flummoxed and teary-eyed in the middle of the night, though I really thought it might be the death of me when I came down with the dreaded mastitis. It was on an ordinary afternoon early on in my maternity leave and you were laying next to me on my bed while I was watching "Hotel Rwanda" for the first time ever. I'd seen many movies like it in the past. But suddenly! My heart was in my throat and I felt the beginnings of a panic attack coming on! Those children! They could be you! Suddenly all the sorrow in the world was my own and my fear was choking me! Little did I know that from that day on, every sad Today Show story, every news article about children trapped in an earthquake or talk of an orphan's home in South Dallas...those children felt like my child. There would never be enough hugs, or tears, to push away the fear that every parent encounters: that they might lose a child. It haunts me to this day - the notion that life has upped the ante, that I have more to lose today than I did a year ago.<br /><br />But. Aside from the crippling fear came joy beyond measure.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPKwoT42yCg3p8D5KuQ0JIEe_jPIU2gpAhRxZOIAXCdDTnvUB8Me5y-fcB52iKnsyzP5MngIjJCmTX_OSJamPqQrhPWKm6NPV-qj3t7Rw_NA0smg4EC0xd61fD_9D5O5HCe0P1MVzN7WR/s1600-h/IMG_1095.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPKwoT42yCg3p8D5KuQ0JIEe_jPIU2gpAhRxZOIAXCdDTnvUB8Me5y-fcB52iKnsyzP5MngIjJCmTX_OSJamPqQrhPWKm6NPV-qj3t7Rw_NA0smg4EC0xd61fD_9D5O5HCe0P1MVzN7WR/s320/IMG_1095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370019502304951874" border="0" /></a><br />I never understood how people could carry around photos of their children and expect me to care. And yet: a quick study of my iPhone will reveal hundreds of photos of you. Daddy and I would find ourselves calling each other only to discuss the barely perceptible new thing you had accomplished during that day: "Guess what." "What?" "Today she turned her head and was watching <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">TV</span>." "Seriously?!" "Yeah. And she smiled when the dog barked." We continually marvelled over your obvious talents. Someone call the Gifted Program.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsdYdgAZx4troE4MIP8TSFP84R7BXOTFIhTZn9qIGLMMt8FlqKHV0sEHumBRW6keD8LpD7kUeUAqL_OqQO1uh-a7Utt-w75I7amOdquicuulFJIsRKdi0VpwiMMY81meA6VyYZptqMKrt/s1600-h/photo+018.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsdYdgAZx4troE4MIP8TSFP84R7BXOTFIhTZn9qIGLMMt8FlqKHV0sEHumBRW6keD8LpD7kUeUAqL_OqQO1uh-a7Utt-w75I7amOdquicuulFJIsRKdi0VpwiMMY81meA6VyYZptqMKrt/s320/photo+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370024120728053138" border="0" /></a><br />Davy, I'm not gonna lie. Becoming a Momma was HARD. Every step stressed me out. Your father can attest to this: I am an anxiety hound and the lack of sleep only made it worse. But, bless your heart, you really were a good baby. By six months you slept through the night (though that damned <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Babywise</span> had me thinking it would only take 9 weeks!). We learned quickly that as long as you were fed, you were up for whatever. After about 7 months of you and I hanging out I realized that you recognized me and maybe even really liked me being around. By 9 months I was certain that I had never really lived before you.<br /><br />Your life has given me a whole new way of looking at mine. Let's take Daddy, for instance. Honey, you'd only been born for a few hours before it was painfully clear that I was never intended to marry anyone but your daddy. I remember holding you sometime around midnight on the day of your birth and looking over at your father who was fast asleep on the chair/couch next to me. I just burst into an estrogen <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cry fest</span> because I suddenly realized something Jesus must have known for a thousand years or so - that Russell Page was always meant to be with me and meant to be your daddy. No one else would do. And Oh! The joy it brings me when I think of the totally different way you will know him as Daddy. Trust me: I know a thing or two about good daddies and you got yourself a good one.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUf1XF3R9F9fz9014edrYfNZe5PXEO1izZwwui2W9eyvXOc7IOhadyxONKmd4gjYTFRmvtR3g_SmZU8kseZG8IZLciryF5cI3qBdBZh5rW6XKoyTdcSuvRF1C9uZ0BBDd7-Kxz5R-hJnS/s1600-h/IMG_1174.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUf1XF3R9F9fz9014edrYfNZe5PXEO1izZwwui2W9eyvXOc7IOhadyxONKmd4gjYTFRmvtR3g_SmZU8kseZG8IZLciryF5cI3qBdBZh5rW6XKoyTdcSuvRF1C9uZ0BBDd7-Kxz5R-hJnS/s320/IMG_1174.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370018233404046434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Little girl, your personality is out like Clay Aiken. You are so intensely yourself. Here are some things to remember: everywhere we go, people say, "Oh my gosh! What a beautiful baby!" I used to think this was just something folks said to most babies until total strangers stopped me to ask if they could hold you. You smile at everyone. Hell, you'll babble coyly to anyone, too. "Those blue eyes!" If I had a nickel for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">every time</span> I heard that. My prayer is that you will somehow escape the pressure that most girls feel by the time junior high rolls around: may you never measure yourself by your looks. It's too fleeting a weight to carry. May you somehow get it through your head that the stuff that lasts is the stuff the years can't change: your love for others, your tender heart. But if you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">succumb</span> to those demons that your own mother bowed to - may you realize quickly that freedom lies in your Heavenly Father, the One Who loves you regardless of anything you can do for Him. Who knows your worth has nothing to do with performance, behavior or beauty.<br /><br />Little girl, God brought you into my life to teach me the Great Lesson: how to love without being loved in return. Oh my. I never knew how selfish I was until you came along. For as long as I live I'll never be able to thank you for relieving me of the burden of ME. I just don't matter as much today as I did a year ago. And I know this is of God. Only He could use such a little thing to give me such a great gift. I can say with tears running down my face that you've taught me that this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ol</span>' life is full of surprises and pain...and that I would never trade it.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIen4vIgfvDBy3-qr-08Af5fW2yZE7w4H02wMjpXDt0hmNO9Sf8tmKnBc4sACl8yy6xe8oMU-ILBiz1LPILJQJywU-oJ-R-rtY-KM9L0RsF2XQ1Dvy_x3ezBjHv6L_5mTWFQWghRDHFF4/s1600-h/IMG_1409.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIen4vIgfvDBy3-qr-08Af5fW2yZE7w4H02wMjpXDt0hmNO9Sf8tmKnBc4sACl8yy6xe8oMU-ILBiz1LPILJQJywU-oJ-R-rtY-KM9L0RsF2XQ1Dvy_x3ezBjHv6L_5mTWFQWghRDHFF4/s320/IMG_1409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370027674118991090" border="0" /></a><br />I love you, baby girl.<br /><br />Love, Momma.Beckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01766427693918249626noreply@blogger.com12