tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44323361993600900712024-03-12T21:29:22.736-07:00Little Red Hearts From God(Matthew 11:28-30) "...Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."
The Msg.Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.comBlogger497125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-79115193803152206632013-01-15T10:24:00.001-08:002013-01-15T10:24:27.641-08:00my blog has been hacked....Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-75897808011617549922012-02-17T18:03:00.001-08:002012-02-17T18:05:12.098-08:00Safe HavenI am over at my other blog .... <a href="http://www.herbrokenwing.wordpress.com/">Her Broken Wing</a>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-8414041948928715062012-02-11T12:58:00.000-08:002012-02-11T13:17:19.213-08:00May We Dance Always<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdAcepI9QdIsqQAdGPra4q8PnygfogXNtMBBIi2cQUiL3rlBxA9hmkDnBY-nxW1vUaRbbEVkGmVyGQnpbRULIuH4T98nbgdDuJLHj-ZfYrg_OZp57z1E7QH9cRrPVofRSBgiSDT7Vy5M/s1600/bradconniedancing.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707985699095760322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdAcepI9QdIsqQAdGPra4q8PnygfogXNtMBBIi2cQUiL3rlBxA9hmkDnBY-nxW1vUaRbbEVkGmVyGQnpbRULIuH4T98nbgdDuJLHj-ZfYrg_OZp57z1E7QH9cRrPVofRSBgiSDT7Vy5M/s400/bradconniedancing.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><em>Valentine’s Day</em>-- A day to celebrate the love between two people. Candy, flowers and cupids arrow with a string of love sonnets to fill the air. I must say, however, my husband doesn’t care for this day too much but goes with the flow.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div>But somewhere in the days before Valentine’s, the love struck arrow strikes leaving him shopping endlessly for just the right card and a few other things. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />Twenty years is a long time to be together. We have lived through a lot over those twenty years. When we first married, we had big dreams for our life. We made a commitment to cherish one another through the good and the bad. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />Little did we know, the bad would mean a blended family, dealing with ex’s, the death of three of our parents, a heart attack, the loss of a job, changing careers, and one of us going through a difficult journey!<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>It was no Cinderella story of living happily ever after. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />I would learn to be quiet when his temper flared and the sarcasm slid off his tongue. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />He learned to bite his tongue when I spent too much money or rambled on incessantly about nothing. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />There were endless hours of work, cleaning our home, tending to the children and church responsibilities. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />But it would become these little things that brought us closer together. And the “I love you” became an action phrase, melting my heart more now than in the beginning. The tender kiss that means more to me now than when we first met and the way he looks at me when we slow dance, reminds me who I belong to. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />May we dance always… </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br />Happy Valentine’s Day</div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-77218749095959298862012-01-29T05:48:00.000-08:002012-01-29T05:52:03.922-08:00God Is Love: Hospice Journey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLf6sO-9IW83TUtlYokXj4xMH8nAGoXhShgK7GQTwLiz-lHOUmVzibcB_Fn95zXT8UtK5sLQlxul5_sr6Kd0rKFHdqTlym8wUzwM1bfGxqjELMHlm_rtgGHc-DC0UK6A1EzwQx195rvtc/s1600/dandelion.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 339px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703051314888828706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLf6sO-9IW83TUtlYokXj4xMH8nAGoXhShgK7GQTwLiz-lHOUmVzibcB_Fn95zXT8UtK5sLQlxul5_sr6Kd0rKFHdqTlym8wUzwM1bfGxqjELMHlm_rtgGHc-DC0UK6A1EzwQx195rvtc/s400/dandelion.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a title="Permanent Link:My Faith: What people talk about before they die" href="http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2012/01/28/my-faith-what-people-talk-about-before-they-die/" rel="bookmark">My Faith: What people talk about before they die</a><br />Editor's Note: Kerry Egan is a hospice chaplain in Massachusetts and the author of "Fumbling: A Pilgrimage Tale of Love, Grief, and Spiritual Renewal on the Camino de Santiago."<br />By Kerry Egan, Special to CNN<br /><br />As a divinity school student, I had just started working as a student chaplain at a cancer hospital when my professor asked me about my work. I was 26 years old and still learning what a chaplain did.<br /><br />"I talk to the patients," I told him.<br /><br />"You talk to patients? And tell me, what do people who are sick and dying talk to the student chaplain about?" he asked.<br /><br />I had never considered the question before. “Well,” I responded slowly, “Mostly we talk about their families.”<br /><br />“Do you talk about God?<br /><br />“Umm, not usually.”<br /><br />“Or their religion?”<br /><br />“Not so much.”<br /><br />“The meaning of their lives?”<br /><br />“Sometimes.”<br /><br />“And prayer? Do you lead them in prayer? Or ritual?”<br /><br />“Well,” I hesitated. “Sometimes. But not usually, not really.”<br /><br />I felt derision creeping into the professor's voice. “So you just visit people and talk about their families?”<br /><br />“Well, they talk. I mostly listen.”<br /><br />“Huh.” He leaned back in his chair.<br /><br />A week later, in the middle of a lecture in this professor's packed class, he started to tell a story about a student he once met who was a chaplain intern at a hospital.<br />“And I asked her, 'What exactly do you do as a chaplain?' And she replied, 'Well, I talk to people about their families.'” He paused for effect. “And that was this student's understanding of faith! That was as deep as this person's spiritual life went! Talking about other people's families!”<br /><br />The students laughed at the shallowness of the silly student. The professor was on a roll.<br />“And I thought to myself,” he continued, “that if I was ever sick in the hospital, if I was ever dying, that the last person I would ever want to see is some Harvard Divinity School student chaplain wanting to talk to me about my family.”<br /><br />My body went numb with shame. At the time I thought that maybe, if I was a better chaplain, I would know how to talk to people about big spiritual questions. Maybe if dying people met with a good, experienced chaplain they would talk about God, I thought.<br /><br />Today, 13 years later, I am a hospice chaplain. I visit people who are dying – in their homes, in hospitals, in nursing homes. And if you were to ask me the same question - What do people who are sick and dying talk about with the chaplain? – I, without hesitation or uncertainty, would give you the same answer. Mostly, they talk about their families: about their mothers and fathers, their sons and daughters.<br /><br />They talk about the love they felt, and the love they gave. Often they talk about love they did not receive, or the love they did not know how to offer, the love they withheld, or maybe never felt for the ones they should have loved unconditionally.<br /><br />They talk about how they learned what love is, and what it is not. And sometimes, when they are actively dying, fluid gurgling in their throats, they reach their hands out to things I cannot see and they call out to their parents: Mama, Daddy, Mother.<br /><br />What I did not understand when I was a student then, and what I would explain to that professor now, is that people talk to the chaplain about their families because that is how we talk about God. That is how we talk about the meaning of our lives. That is how we talk about the big spiritual questions of human existence.<br /><br />We don't live our lives in our heads, in theology and theories. We live our lives in our families: the families we are born into, the families we create, the families we make through the people we choose as friends.<br /><br />This is where we create our lives, this is where we find meaning, this is where our purpose becomes clear.<br /><br />Family is where we first experience love and where we first give it. It's probably the first place we've been hurt by someone we love, and hopefully the place we learn that love can overcome even the most painful rejection.<br /><br />This crucible of love is where we start to ask those big spiritual questions, and ultimately where they end.<br /><br />I have seen such expressions of love: A husband gently washing his wife's face with a cool washcloth, cupping the back of her bald head in his hand to get to the nape of her neck, because she is too weak to lift it from the pillow. A daughter spooning pudding into the mouth of her mother, a woman who has not recognized her for years.<br /><br />A wife arranging the pillow under the head of her husband's no-longer-breathing body as she helps the undertaker lift him onto the waiting stretcher.<br /><br />We don't learn the meaning of our lives by discussing it. It's not to be found in books or lecture halls or even churches or synagogues or mosques. It's discovered through these actions of love.<br /><br />If God is love, and we believe that to be true, then we learn about God when we learn about love. The first, and usually the last, classroom of love is the family.<br /><br />Sometimes that love is not only imperfect, it seems to be missing entirely. Monstrous things can happen in families. Too often, more often than I want to believe possible, patients tell me what it feels like when the person you love beats you or rapes you. They tell me what it feels like to know that you are utterly unwanted by your parents. They tell me what it feels like to be the target of someone's rage. They tell me what it feels like to know that you abandoned your children, or that your drinking destroyed your family, or that you failed to care for those who needed you.<br /><br />Even in these cases, I am amazed at the strength of the human soul. People who did not know love in their families know that they should have been loved. They somehow know what was missing, and what they deserved as children and adults.<br /><br />When the love is imperfect, or a family is destructive, something else can be learned: forgiveness. The spiritual work of being human is learning how to love and how to forgive.<br />We don’t have to use words of theology to talk about God; people who are close to death almost never do. We should learn from those who are dying that the best way to teach our children about God is by loving each other wholly and forgiving each other fully - just as each of us longs to be loved and forgiven by our mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. </div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-1809417104847557922012-01-29T04:56:00.000-08:002012-01-29T05:04:23.436-08:00Beautiful Exchange<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhnGPCOrlk1JB-8ePoFnui-EcgSzeLeSbdH5d2H-_MSaf9TMG0utgyJ9CY49tLH2KLnzHN8L661Gmr0CGmhrjkUfQqxS7onOcg0TZjNzBlHmFZxn1muAmnxJOfsuvorO2H5KWLqmALsk/s1600/pouroil.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 268px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 394px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703037769244423346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhnGPCOrlk1JB-8ePoFnui-EcgSzeLeSbdH5d2H-_MSaf9TMG0utgyJ9CY49tLH2KLnzHN8L661Gmr0CGmhrjkUfQqxS7onOcg0TZjNzBlHmFZxn1muAmnxJOfsuvorO2H5KWLqmALsk/s400/pouroil.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>Pour Your love on me Father....like praises from perfume....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>for I was lost and insecure.... but mercy falls...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And I am reminded of my redemption.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Perfection in Your eyes...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>it was a Beautiful Exchange...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Amen Father....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-91842083858734687492012-01-21T14:41:00.000-08:002012-01-21T14:46:18.938-08:00Blessings of 2011<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnK1b4ntGtBqqpBflZlJgc0kKxTmyO8HhMAOYt6SIqXA11zaJ1UlH4dAihyphenhyphenjulWB2fVvTSQImxygVFUSgtIiTDgjlb5muEt5WOAkwTmnqX8CXN3GrTjJoUjqx5dvnZg5ScnwFTQBZAYH8/s1600/Chyennehoganthanksgiving2011pic.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700219675510566194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnK1b4ntGtBqqpBflZlJgc0kKxTmyO8HhMAOYt6SIqXA11zaJ1UlH4dAihyphenhyphenjulWB2fVvTSQImxygVFUSgtIiTDgjlb5muEt5WOAkwTmnqX8CXN3GrTjJoUjqx5dvnZg5ScnwFTQBZAYH8/s400/Chyennehoganthanksgiving2011pic.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>so... this past year has been busy. My son is really growing up. Fast and furious. He is driving now. Has a girlfriend. We will be traveling to Savannah to hear him sing soon.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Our daughter just bought her first house. Loves her job. she is doing great.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And our other daughter is expecting her third son...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Life is great...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Thank you Lord for our blessings.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZXe8z2b4oizd6CPvLz9cZZRU5ST29sz-MF_yp4gYl9EnRn4vOU7538j07qjfcDaLfcUMnbH38aiAZs8MkdZp4XGxEJ3MiT-I1CuQvhHI-LjvBYuhkXyuBBJvEjyUMJm1yAvFHXGZQjs/s1600/chyennemomaug2011.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700219555353899554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZXe8z2b4oizd6CPvLz9cZZRU5ST29sz-MF_yp4gYl9EnRn4vOU7538j07qjfcDaLfcUMnbH38aiAZs8MkdZp4XGxEJ3MiT-I1CuQvhHI-LjvBYuhkXyuBBJvEjyUMJm1yAvFHXGZQjs/s400/chyennemomaug2011.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-63465328642130329912011-12-24T11:14:00.000-08:002011-12-24T11:17:11.973-08:00Thinking of you...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySc7j-23HWDpeCL-p9pT9nKaf8Dfg4GAb8YCxhTVHstp37CB_jKGQyu1r9eGDkkmzxTT5-1c-EvOGia5eRfuZlv3BdnE7K0j7-C6_WGEp7zurGkGOt-_zZgKUJ3NXzVsZMffYqZLuh00/s1600/christmasoutdoors.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 311px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689775968847045522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySc7j-23HWDpeCL-p9pT9nKaf8Dfg4GAb8YCxhTVHstp37CB_jKGQyu1r9eGDkkmzxTT5-1c-EvOGia5eRfuZlv3BdnE7K0j7-C6_WGEp7zurGkGOt-_zZgKUJ3NXzVsZMffYqZLuh00/s400/christmasoutdoors.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>I always think of my dad this time of year... he always made Christmas special... wishing you a Merry Christmas in Heaven Dad.... Love you</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-53473742799450548422011-07-24T17:19:00.000-07:002011-07-24T17:25:32.210-07:00My heart<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi55CzFmd_wzHrR3Ofhyp437Sad4uD7UW78Ylu_JG_8PFe4hyphenhyphenMmxz1aI-4vr7VspfPdcyWmRQbXM7Xw0HatDEBTEpAOs1BmNH50-1sspR2HZD-9-WwkiKLsWi9vXYCeNE5T1zyLhp2VLSk/s1600/unique_heart_tattoo_designs1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 326px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633078363758871954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi55CzFmd_wzHrR3Ofhyp437Sad4uD7UW78Ylu_JG_8PFe4hyphenhyphenMmxz1aI-4vr7VspfPdcyWmRQbXM7Xw0HatDEBTEpAOs1BmNH50-1sspR2HZD-9-WwkiKLsWi9vXYCeNE5T1zyLhp2VLSk/s400/unique_heart_tattoo_designs1.jpg" /></a><br />Many years ago, I remember a heart very similiar to this being drawn and placed in my lap by my daughter. In a barren room, the little girl drew beautiful hearts as she tried to heal my broken heart.<br /><br />And so is born... Little Red Hearts From God....<br /><br />Today, Chyenne and I had this heart artifully drawn in a memoriable place that she and I can share....<br /><br />To my sweet girl...<br /><br />I love youConnie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-55520148075094773602011-06-24T04:17:00.000-07:002011-06-24T04:22:34.752-07:00Tweetingyou can now also follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/#!//fishnparrots">Twitter...</a>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-53035081784569086552011-06-07T05:16:00.001-07:002011-06-07T05:18:46.062-07:00Bloggers, Tweeters and Facebookers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LKRH5uLbbYx5TNV6i4clXW0gztd-yL784_UEgcXbSPH0uVIHSiHdeCb6sGHR1EY3dgEVKz0h2Xt2dxzJsAR7QvRZgzOERKe1ZhPgsaJYHEvblPm_eEDcDFsm2SjJuUukccmTll2WS54/s1600/beautiful-river-sunset_25132.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615451019663129362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 370px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LKRH5uLbbYx5TNV6i4clXW0gztd-yL784_UEgcXbSPH0uVIHSiHdeCb6sGHR1EY3dgEVKz0h2Xt2dxzJsAR7QvRZgzOERKe1ZhPgsaJYHEvblPm_eEDcDFsm2SjJuUukccmTll2WS54/s400/beautiful-river-sunset_25132.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><p>"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect" ~Anais Nin</p><br /><p></p>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-36459586299139919992011-05-31T13:29:00.001-07:002011-05-31T13:32:54.463-07:00Aggie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYGN3SvKGiEnB1FjTwaMxWqumzQ-YhyLEZTEWdlgwH6Z7J6WA9_i8NrGUkJhnmKqQn63SybbrE8n9q9BUxg-PtneVXCYPN_7OWgj1OrUxGbijHKvZ5V8fsT6bpV24bE7brsw1l-aDMHs/s1600/aggieblush.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612980239019747010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYGN3SvKGiEnB1FjTwaMxWqumzQ-YhyLEZTEWdlgwH6Z7J6WA9_i8NrGUkJhnmKqQn63SybbrE8n9q9BUxg-PtneVXCYPN_7OWgj1OrUxGbijHKvZ5V8fsT6bpV24bE7brsw1l-aDMHs/s400/aggieblush.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Boccia Agawam Blush (Aggie)<br />(1998-2011)<br /><br />Thank you for your love.<br /><br />Thank you for your faithfulness to our family.<br /><br />Thank you for "Aggie Tag"<br /><br />Thank you for protecting our children.<br /><br />Thank you for the memories.<br /><br />You will be missed ....<br /><br />With all our loveConnie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-80450984961944431392011-05-22T04:36:00.000-07:002011-05-22T05:26:14.018-07:00In Memory Of Jayne<div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4EBZFpwpEhRhZEykS7Ra8hDAULk4GMriFEfUcC-DNLUHE-DQgl0r4mMBJWlUXB5glCIZG08VZjXHifyDIN4n3qBjjcbUYxgmFUV_oBoX681pvwsMmIX_TeqdUgD4T2nAEh-ykIUz2L8/s1600/jayne2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 267px; height: 400px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609506073808860786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4EBZFpwpEhRhZEykS7Ra8hDAULk4GMriFEfUcC-DNLUHE-DQgl0r4mMBJWlUXB5glCIZG08VZjXHifyDIN4n3qBjjcbUYxgmFUV_oBoX681pvwsMmIX_TeqdUgD4T2nAEh-ykIUz2L8/s400/jayne2.jpg" /></a>
<br /><div>It has been thirty years since my best friend went Home. I always think about her this time of year as we were graduating from Nursing School and filled with hopes and dreams. We had our whole life in front of us. The day Jayne died, I had spent the day with her. She shared her dreams with me on that day more than she ever had. It was as if…
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<br />I like to think those dreams are being fulfilled in the Heavenly realms…
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<br />Jayne left behind a beautiful little girl that is now grown. Jayne she looks so much like you. She makes me smile.
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<br />My road to tenderness in our memories has not always been this easy. I spent many years filled with anger and rage over your brutal death. But our Heavenly Dad walked me through the most passion-filled <a href="http://littleredheartfromgod.blogspot.com/2007/07/walking-road-of-forgiveness.html">forgiveness</a>. Something I will hold onto until we see each other again.
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<br />Thank you for the lessons I have learned. <a href="http://lacedwithgrace.com/devotion/i-will-praise-you-in-the-storm/">Grace and Love</a>.
<br />
<br />In sweet memory of Jayne Autry… I miss you… I love you….
<br />(1954-1981)Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-64574799166850298052011-05-07T14:14:00.000-07:002011-05-07T14:28:43.845-07:00The Christian Perspective??<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DTle_nXvDvIHEHhXmbVxGULhP7LtmQobdioJd-RZpmMcYWgkG2PKYxKdgQwnAqElSmpM1mBjB_q77mU95PYqmPpRxpNIjbCUtFBMmXDC2Ae_iHLZDtIU6qb5KR_3EA_hSZgIQ7QeSdo/s1600/airforcesymbol.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 264px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604088688669224338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DTle_nXvDvIHEHhXmbVxGULhP7LtmQobdioJd-RZpmMcYWgkG2PKYxKdgQwnAqElSmpM1mBjB_q77mU95PYqmPpRxpNIjbCUtFBMmXDC2Ae_iHLZDtIU6qb5KR_3EA_hSZgIQ7QeSdo/s400/airforcesymbol.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>I have had a stirring, uncomfortable at times, since hearing of the death of Bin Laden. If I am honest, I will admit to rejoicing on the initial announcement in learning of the Navy Seals storming Bin Laden's home and taking his life---long overdue.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Then my mind wondered to what he was thinking now as he stood before God. A sadness washed over me.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Confused over the emotions of anger and sadness, I prayed for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">enlightenment</span>. I have family in the military that are putting their lives on the line for people "like this." We know what it is like to sit around the Christmas table each year without our family as they are off at war fighting for our freedom. Truly, I do understand.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Also, I understand what it is like to lose someone in the brutality of murder. I have lost my best friend and my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">step dad</span> at the hands of the evil. Yet, I chose to forgive.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>In <a href="http://pastorjonathanmartin.com/uncategorized/the-christian-response-to-osamagate-2011/">this post</a>, this pastor does a good job explaining what I have felt... and I thought I would share...</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Blessings...</div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-16339019504241859332011-04-17T08:26:00.000-07:002011-04-17T08:30:54.448-07:00Color Splash<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhqqZLZInCOBZGJ6nUYF7wfL2F31R-dWqEaefwYU1Db7U5bNbVPAX4xKisfClA-L0ELa_OWkHY1c_pe_O1-6kqHDZ-tG-drAl6JCC8kjGjsuj9G1886Ftn0OWXDCOU3daCSaxfOthcw8/s1600/gatorsbw.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596575291227655026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhqqZLZInCOBZGJ6nUYF7wfL2F31R-dWqEaefwYU1Db7U5bNbVPAX4xKisfClA-L0ELa_OWkHY1c_pe_O1-6kqHDZ-tG-drAl6JCC8kjGjsuj9G1886Ftn0OWXDCOU3daCSaxfOthcw8/s400/gatorsbw.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEw4kwAh4QJu03Jfs2GSMCeRCjO6Kvd6GWJGLw3pMWD4ckIHKZI-YOQwapTC66DCf-EaOg-xnc28myIoPzkLkK7S4KS30oqjW7NNFq8cnkMUaQsOdo6J5tOBn1UYUa4RHU6kK788dOizM/s1600/squeakbw.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596575197637958834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEw4kwAh4QJu03Jfs2GSMCeRCjO6Kvd6GWJGLw3pMWD4ckIHKZI-YOQwapTC66DCf-EaOg-xnc28myIoPzkLkK7S4KS30oqjW7NNFq8cnkMUaQsOdo6J5tOBn1UYUa4RHU6kK788dOizM/s400/squeakbw.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bk07fg5ptO-EpGHEls_TBx3PFxTSaIpgNjLNNlwF9tJJA222cgPcR-J-tt7cIiSji0Wio659m8ac7DVD59VxlqHzY3JUxRxggPHR4T7pn0aWKHE5LmTUSecRKc5o_DPa3lHKtBUMKbc/s1600/hibiscusbw.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596575039842254418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bk07fg5ptO-EpGHEls_TBx3PFxTSaIpgNjLNNlwF9tJJA222cgPcR-J-tt7cIiSji0Wio659m8ac7DVD59VxlqHzY3JUxRxggPHR4T7pn0aWKHE5LmTUSecRKc5o_DPa3lHKtBUMKbc/s400/hibiscusbw.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbXphMZueN_WR3ZJVGtz0nE8gP3K14mNo1-zX0PsBJ0nx6J5Dzd7HgGAmWA2aAv5hl2vxnAhMy-e-btxIuKTKaeyFRp-o3poEVqS6LbK-pjWsFil5_IMco18vJsn4vTao1cqn__gp_gU/s1600/blueflower.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596574935375325570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbXphMZueN_WR3ZJVGtz0nE8gP3K14mNo1-zX0PsBJ0nx6J5Dzd7HgGAmWA2aAv5hl2vxnAhMy-e-btxIuKTKaeyFRp-o3poEVqS6LbK-pjWsFil5_IMco18vJsn4vTao1cqn__gp_gU/s400/blueflower.jpg" /></a> <br /><div>Just playing around my camera.. some pictures I took</div></div></div></div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-80777314262693780882011-04-11T03:19:00.000-07:002011-04-12T04:35:02.496-07:00Hogan's Debut<object width="400" height="224"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/1728103728045"><br /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/1728103728045" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="224"></embed></object><span style="font-size:180%;">turn the music off below</span>.... <span style="font-size:180%;">click on arrow to turn video on...</span>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-19685598125559104492011-04-04T03:07:00.000-07:002011-04-04T03:12:02.802-07:00Spring Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSvBeQT8pQnDnB8nOzXoYhBm3XNONU58FMoTC9VMHwNqYpyXl_IUMri6J7wejNFB89q8qAiR7B5ft0aHsfIEik3E2yuARmrvrM5C3J-vl-xFNqhZmDfF6JQrErVXbUTUrbdNgMxcW0aw/s1600/mejake.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591668834978350674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSvBeQT8pQnDnB8nOzXoYhBm3XNONU58FMoTC9VMHwNqYpyXl_IUMri6J7wejNFB89q8qAiR7B5ft0aHsfIEik3E2yuARmrvrM5C3J-vl-xFNqhZmDfF6JQrErVXbUTUrbdNgMxcW0aw/s400/mejake.jpg" /></a> <br /><div>Great Spring day....</div><br /><div>with the kiddo's and the pets....</div><br /><div>God is so good....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8B_3eOG8Fcsvhs0caMxjWMWVcHq2gfZVEPRkP67sut9_A4h3s3-u5C1VRSiSPnkQILg0bK0SSmGKgITz3xw41gN89ZhIt3SFHAbaif7VXQVU3Zac37t5pL66Omsx-oHYBg0ZN4452UrM/s1600/hogiechy2011.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591668725093469490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8B_3eOG8Fcsvhs0caMxjWMWVcHq2gfZVEPRkP67sut9_A4h3s3-u5C1VRSiSPnkQILg0bK0SSmGKgITz3xw41gN89ZhIt3SFHAbaif7VXQVU3Zac37t5pL66Omsx-oHYBg0ZN4452UrM/s400/hogiechy2011.jpg" /></a> </div><br /><div></div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-36941501955398227952011-03-27T13:47:00.000-07:002011-03-27T13:51:24.592-07:00Live<span style="font-size:180%;"></span> <span style="font-size:180%;">Be Fearless.....</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInLcW0vf8QlAAF3tIay-SfZqznE3jnaTBZ2QYaPbPqXmndj5BL9DYvljzygm0a1-C0FHfFaZnHgc0EwWIOND0NzOQSdBqVOmky-Ockjhx9b_UlhDlf2dzZUqLN5RVC2bP2ESlJrQAx1Q/s1600/letgo.png"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588864698569446786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInLcW0vf8QlAAF3tIay-SfZqznE3jnaTBZ2QYaPbPqXmndj5BL9DYvljzygm0a1-C0FHfFaZnHgc0EwWIOND0NzOQSdBqVOmky-Ockjhx9b_UlhDlf2dzZUqLN5RVC2bP2ESlJrQAx1Q/s400/letgo.png" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"> </span><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><span style="font-size:180%;">Out live your life.....</span>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-74335898287394566312011-03-16T12:31:00.000-07:002011-03-16T12:33:46.446-07:00The Act of Kindness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGRHE69bJy4g66o2AsF_rixz18fzxblZIjr4E4G1EUsyzzsDjC-YfJLKvokeSc8cNAH486oxqWeLYjD_t1Les1MgXN-0viqXBod6IcDoSV_CmDJ4xOQQ4lzat47uFccKpMZrdN76zvwQ/s1600/JamesFlamingos_EN-US434228174.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584762802000217298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGRHE69bJy4g66o2AsF_rixz18fzxblZIjr4E4G1EUsyzzsDjC-YfJLKvokeSc8cNAH486oxqWeLYjD_t1Les1MgXN-0viqXBod6IcDoSV_CmDJ4xOQQ4lzat47uFccKpMZrdN76zvwQ/s400/JamesFlamingos_EN-US434228174.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p>Sometimes in the act of kindness we get hurt...but then sometimes in the act of pain we find kindness....</p><p>Connie Barris</p>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-41555816627778126392011-02-19T07:36:00.001-08:002011-02-19T07:37:23.794-08:00Cry Out To Jesus<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EvQpHmQqYqXg3BgDaFiG7jPVJ9jBqzS3wpM8-HY8hLDlQD5b_rF3VDiRVbWUd-D91Tj24JCAKRgcJyhw6LyrV0loAL4iyCrAz6Ccr7dhlLy3AHeKYBeUakTxSX3EPa_dN499zbBF6gc/s1600/lifeguard1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575425104016265618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EvQpHmQqYqXg3BgDaFiG7jPVJ9jBqzS3wpM8-HY8hLDlQD5b_rF3VDiRVbWUd-D91Tj24JCAKRgcJyhw6LyrV0loAL4iyCrAz6Ccr7dhlLy3AHeKYBeUakTxSX3EPa_dN499zbBF6gc/s400/lifeguard1.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This song says it all... let us cry out to Jesus...</div><div> </div><div>Enjoy this beautiful Day....</div><div> </div><div>love you...</div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-80398795896756298192011-02-13T05:49:00.000-08:002011-02-13T05:55:02.198-08:00Happy Valentine's Day<span style="font-size:180%;">Happy Valentine's Day</span> to all my wonderful friends...<br /><br />May the love of God embrace you!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizofSgKt8caZojx3jWY-B_iqreRKhoD40fHwxTbOaVW32-OeZGGatAzWnVdwriroz_kFOX_vsnWuUpcL7QJ031U1aV5FnkK5xOaRxjD6wk9uvEbh1WriGVLa8THa4LrfxK3CNLBf_JKIo/s1600/heart4.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573171901854039106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizofSgKt8caZojx3jWY-B_iqreRKhoD40fHwxTbOaVW32-OeZGGatAzWnVdwriroz_kFOX_vsnWuUpcL7QJ031U1aV5FnkK5xOaRxjD6wk9uvEbh1WriGVLa8THa4LrfxK3CNLBf_JKIo/s400/heart4.gif" /></a>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-29391328826033830122011-01-29T12:55:00.000-08:002011-01-29T13:00:51.164-08:00Flashback Prayer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlOwaoyRCUw1WJO6rGp0HNdeYThesBmny6QrkrH3SWk0qZk4IA8L-MUE6FBJxIO27ZexaMMfymNo3dZDzjIeCVmrRvY1_azuO6fFTgaDwxTz9CkbN1ZPvhzV92SjIcaoSzqfnHl8Hgto/s1600/hogan2010.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567715556782715186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlOwaoyRCUw1WJO6rGp0HNdeYThesBmny6QrkrH3SWk0qZk4IA8L-MUE6FBJxIO27ZexaMMfymNo3dZDzjIeCVmrRvY1_azuO6fFTgaDwxTz9CkbN1ZPvhzV92SjIcaoSzqfnHl8Hgto/s400/hogan2010.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I recall a vivid memory as a little girl. I was riding in the car with my grandfather and I thought for sure we would die that day. What is it with us as we grow old and our ability to drive? or there lack of?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Today, I took my son driving. He's 15 years-old. I suddenly had a flashback of that day with my grandfather. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I am not sure I will ever be the same!!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Please say a prayer for me, maybe both of us. Hey, maybe even you if you are on the road.</div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-34093696146924063212011-01-24T05:33:00.000-08:002011-01-24T05:35:22.366-08:00Happy Heavenly 3rd Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioYfic4H0wbhbmwFiL3gpEtfRshhMCT_dCW0IV_CMUpwN5NMgG5MKuhuuDniVbIKA9lI1yoBMY5mnGAyeBzcg9XAiQAbdXEV0vMhKlrM6AWS4i9ca1um7eMf5UvgosMi3d35XEBehAbk/s1600/dad.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565745293807329234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioYfic4H0wbhbmwFiL3gpEtfRshhMCT_dCW0IV_CMUpwN5NMgG5MKuhuuDniVbIKA9lI1yoBMY5mnGAyeBzcg9XAiQAbdXEV0vMhKlrM6AWS4i9ca1um7eMf5UvgosMi3d35XEBehAbk/s400/dad.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p>Happy 3rd Birthday, Dad</p><p>Bryant L Franklin</p><p>October 2, 1939 - January 24, 2008</p><p>I love you</p>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-12559610241789522542011-01-15T09:21:00.000-08:002011-01-15T09:34:14.925-08:00The Race<em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8332e7iHaHYjacbHaXdcdPXyXozmLg5Nqqa_EYm4Or8B5DsC1QEaAhD-kbsoqMBjxgs0wRTOBfZrD14VfwKIN-TF1ADd8abiEb6hoey8D7yfRAQX1c3cH1Yr1zTY7VbjmVtPOBbkDnck/s1600/finishline.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 189px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 155px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562464812292324082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8332e7iHaHYjacbHaXdcdPXyXozmLg5Nqqa_EYm4Or8B5DsC1QEaAhD-kbsoqMBjxgs0wRTOBfZrD14VfwKIN-TF1ADd8abiEb6hoey8D7yfRAQX1c3cH1Yr1zTY7VbjmVtPOBbkDnck/s400/finishline.jpg" /></a>“Indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.” Luke 13:30</em><br /><br />I have spent all my life trying to be the best at everything. As a little girl, I wanted to be the best at school, the best softball player, the best fisherman, yea the coolest motorcycle, you name it, and the list goes on. To be chosen last on a team or to not be chosen at all was devastating to my fragile ego and only caused me to raise the bar of perfection even higher.<br /><br />Fast forward to my years as an adult, I wanted to be the best nurse and I didn’t hesitate to let you know that I probably was the best. It took me a long time to figure out this was causing great strife in my work life as well as my inner peace. I continually drew the line in the sand and dared you to step over it. No wonder I was miserable.<br /><br />It would literally take a whack upside the head to get my attention. And God did. Get my attention that is. Possibly He is the One that whacked me upside the head with a measuring stick, the one that I had been measuring my life with all these years.<br /><br />I needed a good dose of humility and I got it. The past year has been a revealing year. Just the other day everything that came out of my mouth was wrong and I looked like an idiot while trying to make a first impression. It suddenly reminded me of the words a friend had shared the day before, “And there are those that are last who will be first…” Luke 13:30<br /><br />I laughed out loud. I know the person I was with thought I had lost my mind (well what else is new). I silently prayed a thanks of gratitude to God, for I get it now.<br /><br />I know (most days) that God is the only One that will be first and well, I just am along for the ride.<br /><br /><em>Thankfully this is a race with no end...</em>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-60693326334400418702011-01-14T19:27:00.000-08:002011-01-14T19:31:51.610-08:00Berry College<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6HFyTSG-O9xRtzpdG5TXfsuR8OxQgm9oNdXv64ZOR6RFknRTceLK9tlvSVlXj6yPYyr5kOaVZgepmZBUeA1fJhQMQaxee02ldGaz2HgTJ8kngylMWmY1x_yVcCAQSRMAnxv9n5mpbxA/s1600/swanlake2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 276px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562249968883204306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6HFyTSG-O9xRtzpdG5TXfsuR8OxQgm9oNdXv64ZOR6RFknRTceLK9tlvSVlXj6yPYyr5kOaVZgepmZBUeA1fJhQMQaxee02ldGaz2HgTJ8kngylMWmY1x_yVcCAQSRMAnxv9n5mpbxA/s400/swanlake2.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Swan Lake Berry College<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrkEBN9kdGb-GK9-8fypQxpNdgswhvLiAAKuYKdWqezrw-Ha9qqzHNCmY9994CkU38-OUJHypBcIESA-9oQ2893GCYXRdaErXVpokFOO1Bim3IPlrR79jbnkh5Zh7W_44g4Df2aWoTR4/s1600/berrywatermill.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 273px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562249299018147298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrkEBN9kdGb-GK9-8fypQxpNdgswhvLiAAKuYKdWqezrw-Ha9qqzHNCmY9994CkU38-OUJHypBcIESA-9oQ2893GCYXRdaErXVpokFOO1Bim3IPlrR79jbnkh5Zh7W_44g4Df2aWoTR4/s400/berrywatermill.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>Old Mill, Berry College, Rome Georgia<br /><br />Snow Day 2011</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>(by F. Childers)</div>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4432336199360090071.post-79084657428487217142011-01-06T08:44:00.000-08:002011-01-06T08:53:35.579-08:00The Plan<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnt0C0F_sSyMeznV46KWJL1LBHJt_bY4jt-mmtpb9Ni8pFUwu-7M9Xk5twfTCA78DIi5ZAtJdiUPzsyNQh_oNricOOwDzSC701wTsOPE12pocDCevU4l57_R21c8p0ER4iM8Y_7PhuDI/s1600/Jurassic_Scene7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559114965030937138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnt0C0F_sSyMeznV46KWJL1LBHJt_bY4jt-mmtpb9Ni8pFUwu-7M9Xk5twfTCA78DIi5ZAtJdiUPzsyNQh_oNricOOwDzSC701wTsOPE12pocDCevU4l57_R21c8p0ER4iM8Y_7PhuDI/s400/Jurassic_Scene7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p>In the beginning, was the <em><strong>plan</strong></em>...</p><p>And then came the assumptions.</p><p>And the assumptions were without form. </p><p>And the plan was completely without substance.</p><p>And a darkness fell upon the faces of the Employees.</p><p>And they spoke amongst themselves, saying "It is a load of crap and it stinks."</p><p>And the Employees went to their Supervisors, saying "It is a bucket of dung and no one can bear the odour."</p><p>And the Supervisors went to their Managers, saying "It is a container of excrement and its smell is so strong that none can abide it."</p><p>And the Managers went to their Divisional Directors, saying "It is a vessel of fertilizer and none can abide its strength."</p><p>And the Directors went to their Executive Directors, saying "It aids plant growth and it is very strong."</p><p>And the Executive Directors went <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">to</span> the President, saying "Our plan promotes growth and it is very powerful."</p><p>And the President went to the Board of Directors, saying "This new plan will actively promote the growth of this organization."</p><p>And the Board of Directors looked upon the plan and saw that it was good <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">and the</span> plan became <em>policy</em>.</p><p>And that my friends is the way it is...</p>Connie Barrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14808121049884128782noreply@blogger.com4