tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55133312666674966492024-03-12T12:28:43.991-05:00Kelli J Gavin - Story TellerI may have been told more than once that I talk too much. So to spare my family and friends much turmoil, this blog was created. Tales of Wonder. Tales of Woe. Often of heartache and love. Stories about my special needs son and my spunky daughter. Moments of Joy and Hope and stories about what I would do differently if given the chance. Stories that only I can tell. Here you find a little of everything. And you will want to return for more. Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.comBlogger330125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-6784755989020822302023-09-12T22:53:00.001-05:002023-09-12T22:53:52.867-05:00BagsI was thrilled when I realized I didn't have to race off anywhere this morning. I got the kids up and off to school and then had one early call. I then showered and changed and called my best friend as we had scheduled a time to talk this morning. I enjoyed our time together catching up on each other's lives and praying for each other. <div><br />When we finished talking, I packed up my purse and filled a water bottle and headed out the door to run a few errands. My first errand at the Dollar Tree found me conversing with a 50ish man and 60ish woman about inter ocular lenses and the lack of depth perception. I made a mental note not to listen in on other people's conversations and not to pipe in even when my 10+ year experience was something that could assist in their original conversation. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I got to the grocery store, I quickly located my quarter for my cart and my shopping bags and headed towards the store. Minnesota weather is absolutely beautiful this week. I say "this week" because let's be real. It is Minnesota. It might be September but the weather can change at any time. I stood outside my car once I had righted myself and closed my eyes. The sun was shining and breeze had picked up. I knew my son would love the weather today as he loves bright hot sun with a breeze and cooler temps. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I approached the store, I saw a woman maybe 20+ years my senior locating her cart of choice in the outdoor storage area. I rounded the corner and saw her struggling a bit to insert her quarter, so I waited my turn and swung my purse over my shoulder. As I did so, I dropped all of my canvas shopping bags on the ground. I bent to pick them up and apologized as I was now blocking her exit from the cart storage area. She didn't make eye contact with me or say anything. She charged past me the moment I stood upright. I thought it was strange, but as my mother used to say- maybe she has places to go and people to see. </div><div><br /></div><div>I knew I needed quite a few things today but also that my focus would be on fresh produce and dairy items. I quickly filled my cart full of fruits and vegetables and headed towards the bread and bakery items. I selected a bag of honey wheat bread for my family and proceeded towards the hamburger and hot dog buns. As I bend to select a bag of buns and pick it up, I also dropped them on the floor. I noticed the older woman watching me close by.</div><div><br /></div><div>Scoffing, I bent over and laughed and said, "Goodness. Today I am dropping all of the bags."</div><div><br /></div><div>The woman looked at me with utter disdain. As if she couldn't believe that I dropped the buns on the floor. I was so confused. All I did was make a little joke. She didn't say a word but her facial expression made me believe she was very upset that this even happened near her or that I said anything at all. I placed them in my cart and continued walking. As I walked down the aisle, I kept thinking about the fact that I had now spoken to this woman twice and she didn't feel the need to acknowledge my existence. I started thinking about all the reasons why she could have seemed so upset. I covered her with a whole lot of grace because maybe she had hearing loss like my husband. Maybe she didn't even know that I had been speaking to her and offering words of apology. Maybe her facial expressions had nothing to do with me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have found myself, especially since Covid lock downs, being even more intentional than I normally am. Human touch points and interactions have become essential. I am very aware of many lonely people going through the motions and attempting to function in daily life, all while barely holding it together on the inside. So I continue being awkward yet intentional. Smiling longer than necessary, greeting others on the sidewalk, offering help when help hasn't been solicited, inserting myself where my presence hasn't been requested. </div><div><br /></div><div>This seemingly unhappy woman may have been fighting an uphill battle since her feet hit the floor this morning. While her apparent response to me wasn't ideal, it also says more about her than it ever will about me. She just needed my kindness to be displayed by walking away. I needed to re-frame my thoughts on kindness being displayed when it isn't acknowledged or even needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will probably drop more bags of buns and even my shopping bags in the future. I am a klutz at best, so it is more of a given than a probably. I will probably utter some ridiculous involuntary observation or platitude before I even realize that the words are leaving my lips. But I won't censor myself. Because those human touch points and weird connections at places such as the grocery are needed, are necessary and sometimes essential for others to keep going. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today I dropped bags. Tomorrow, I may trip on a curb. All I know is- it will be weird. Bring it on. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-41850462885774302332023-02-28T22:17:00.003-06:002023-02-28T22:17:50.287-06:00I Was There To Hold His Hand<p><span> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHA8TOR6ITuqAJGCWh4iU32mWGu0iGysOIa1lBHZclAHuMYRBqfNnn9P-XCSvQt3vSb2DTmPCQdX5IMT_QfWwYNJDJDa-ey4MEn7ip3IyfUA1xqw3oAWM0ZKz8oB_LY00ojdoUWKHtufmIajmD7ETW-RBcrMSVH0b1WQbbpcsn24E0UMMm4VSTU1Vlg/s4000/20230228_112026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="1848" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHA8TOR6ITuqAJGCWh4iU32mWGu0iGysOIa1lBHZclAHuMYRBqfNnn9P-XCSvQt3vSb2DTmPCQdX5IMT_QfWwYNJDJDa-ey4MEn7ip3IyfUA1xqw3oAWM0ZKz8oB_LY00ojdoUWKHtufmIajmD7ETW-RBcrMSVH0b1WQbbpcsn24E0UMMm4VSTU1Vlg/w148-h245/20230228_112026.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><br />Our dad is dying. He is in his final days. My sister Angela is doing an amazing job caring for him in her home. She is overseeing care, administering medications and pain meds to keep him comfortable. She is meeting with social workers and hospice nurses and chaplains. And while she is exhausted and it has taken a toll mentally and physically, she is doing it all with grace, kindness and love. <p></p><p><span> </span>Today, I had one task that I wished to accomplish. I took the day off of work, made sure I timed my long drive appropriately and made the trek north to my sister's home. I was there to hold his hand. That is all I planned on doing, and what a joy it was. </p><p><span> </span>While he laid with his eyes closed, I told him I was there and touched his chest. </p><p><span> </span>"Hi, dad. It's Kelli. I am here to see you. I love you." </p><p><span> </span>I took his hand from where it rested on his stomach and held it until my fingers cramped. I do not know if he knew I was there. I do not know if he could understand everything I said to him today. But I do know that he could hear, and he heard what was important. </p><p><span> </span>I told my dad that I loved him and I thanked him for being a great dad to me when I was a kid. I told him Angela and I will be okay. That we will miss him, but we will be fine. I told him my kids will be forever grateful that they got to see him last week and smile together. I acknowledge that he is in pain and it must be so hard to feel that way and not be able to communicate. I told him he doesn't need to fight any longer and that it is okay to go. That it is okay to just rest now. I gave him permission to not feel the need to hold on for us. Because it is his time. </p><p><span> </span>My dad may live a few more days, maybe not even last the night. I am so thankful for the time I had with him today. I am so thankful I was there to hold his hand. </p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-9398340265361484832023-02-27T16:11:00.007-06:002023-02-27T18:11:26.816-06:00Ten Years- 2/27/23<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFtZ9h8ZTAs859k2SJmIucaSztVxk0CkZYHmyjP1yYJU5MdM_q1qC0O7ABhvYcCR4GRCdUb9C-tzVQ1LD1cr3i3lEz5fpREJuLnmXNxTLzcTKocEmrPkq3PR-NVcuspqDv2amu7JP07hhW0MYW1gB40CeNAHL0blGCkeu8cJyibH29aj8qMYmDT8vXA/s1080/Screenshot_20211111-085415_Gallery.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1080" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFtZ9h8ZTAs859k2SJmIucaSztVxk0CkZYHmyjP1yYJU5MdM_q1qC0O7ABhvYcCR4GRCdUb9C-tzVQ1LD1cr3i3lEz5fpREJuLnmXNxTLzcTKocEmrPkq3PR-NVcuspqDv2amu7JP07hhW0MYW1gB40CeNAHL0blGCkeu8cJyibH29aj8qMYmDT8vXA/s320/Screenshot_20211111-085415_Gallery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Ten Years</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">2/27/23</span></p><p><b id="docs-internal-guid-0dbfac37-7fff-8938-3c9e-92511f43405c" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> Ten years time in theory is quite a long time. 3,650 days. 87,600 hours. 5,256,000 </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">minutes. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">To me, it is a very long time to be without someone you love. Our mom passed </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">away ten years </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">ago today. Ten years. And while ten years seems like an awful long time, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">this time has passed </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">by in a flash. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> I remember her laugh.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> Her love of hard candy and ice. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> How she read books to her grand kids and only stopped when they were done </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">r</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">eading. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> Watching movies together and listening to all of her questions. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> Explaining the why and how something occurred because she never thought about </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">it that </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;">way before. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> I remember her ability to make a new friend everywhere she went.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> How she loved deeply and often until it sometimes hurt her. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> Mom served others selflessly and wondered why others didn’t always do the same. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre;"> I remember her cooling off in the small blue plastic pool. </span></p><div><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> I still set books aside for mom realizing it isn’t necessary. The last one, was a book of </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">poetry </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">and I wrote in the inside cover before I donated it- </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Mom- </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">I love you. I know you are not here, but I found myself setting this book aside for </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">you because </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I knew you would like it. You are loved and you are missed. Thank you for </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">teaching me to love </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">the written word just like you did. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Love Always, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Kelli</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> I prayed today and asked God to help me do a better job loving my kids when things </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">get </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">hard. She loved Angela and I well, even when things seemed impossible. We always </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">knew </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">she was our safe haven. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Today, I remember her and I miss her fiercely. I look forward to sharing memories with </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">kids at dinner tonight. Something we always do to honor her each year as we remember </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">day she went Home to be with her Savior. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-922b1941-7fff-1d6a-835e-2fd3d2dc0f61" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> Will the next ten years pass just as quickly? Possibly. I will continue doing the same </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">things. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I will remember how well she loved others, how well she served others and I will </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">continue </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">sharing my stories about her.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> What an honor it is to remember you today, Mom.</span></p></span></div>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-69771612083603267032022-12-25T13:27:00.001-06:002022-12-25T13:33:53.129-06:00Mom's Favorite Christmas Earrings <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>My mom passed away about 10 years ago after a short battle with a rare form of liver cancer. She was a lover of all things holidays, but loved Christmas the most.</div><div><br></div><div>She loved bright red and green clothing with silver and gold sequins and all the jewelry she could possibly wear. </div><div><br></div><div>One of the most simple items of jewelry she owned were a pair of Christmas Tree earrings. I have been looking for those treasured earrings for 10 years. I found them this week.</div><div><br></div><div>So today, as I continue to miss her so much, I will honor her memory by wearing her favorite earrings and share stories with my family of Christmas memories with my mom. </div><div><br></div><div>Christmas can be so very hard when you have lost an adored loved one. Talk about them today. Your feelings are valid. You and your grief are seen and acknowledged. </div><div><br></div><div>For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.</div><div>Isaiah 9:6 NLT</div><div><br></div><div>https://bible.com/bible/116/isa.9.6.NLT</div><div><br></div><div> Merry Christmas! 🎄</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div></div>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-41948518641670593892022-11-18T22:36:00.003-06:002022-11-18T22:36:51.395-06:00Brass Knuckles<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZkiWrHQqrElZl-Xq5tK-kBer1FkLG0MuEdOJ9WasqV4K1TNEAtAik7TBU4stPiVfgLQMWTw7Rltf1AqDfyG1P2A5MCweuOlLZb4hyEOmKFj0AcougkO8FhpAbHQ5h_Df6YdYL8YCxqLKmna99vJUhPBEMkgMdG9pCXSHW3TmVUZ5aj5glbSXFqeZCA/s1080/FB_IMG_1668524692480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZkiWrHQqrElZl-Xq5tK-kBer1FkLG0MuEdOJ9WasqV4K1TNEAtAik7TBU4stPiVfgLQMWTw7Rltf1AqDfyG1P2A5MCweuOlLZb4hyEOmKFj0AcougkO8FhpAbHQ5h_Df6YdYL8YCxqLKmna99vJUhPBEMkgMdG9pCXSHW3TmVUZ5aj5glbSXFqeZCA/s320/FB_IMG_1668524692480.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> I love telling stories. I also love retelling stories that aren't mine. Stories that have been shared with me. Stories overheard. Stories that I have only become aware of because of always watching and observing others. Some stories, I will never repeat. They hide away deep in the recesses of my mind and often my heart. But those stories that are spoken of sometimes are relayed others a bit skewed. My aging mind forgets bits and pieces, words that were spoken, specific locations and even the people present. However, I find that the stories I share are important and often only meant for a person or two rather than the masses. </p><p> My mother was an excellent story teller and she had a superb memory. She could recall her junior high school teacher's names and her eyes would glimmer as she spoke about a treasured friend who lived down the street when she was five years old in St. Paul. She rarely needed to take out a cookbook or reference a recipe card as she stored it away after one cursory glance. As she aged, my sister and I noticed that some of the details would be edited or omitted when her memories became a little fuzzy around the edges. </p><p> When my sister and I were small, my mother regaled us with stories of her travels and stories of her family from when she was growing up. We always paid very close attention when she spoke of our Grandpa Joseph because he had passed away in 1962, many years before either of us were born. She spoke of his kindness, how everyone liked him and how he worked hard and was a great father. Grandpa Joseph was quite a bit older than Grandma Charlotte and that often reflected in the conversations they would have, how they parented and even in how they spent their time. Grandpa liked road trips and Grandma wasn't really a fan, but went along with his plans as she knew their three kids would enjoy any adventure. </p><p> Our mom often retold a story of a road trip they took out east. She spoke of different places they stayed, attractions they saw, pictures they posed for and postcards purchased. Do I remember most of the details she shared? I do not. But I wish I knew more. I will have to ask for more information from my aunt and uncle, her brother and sister this Christmas when we see each other. But what I do remember of that road trip to New York always makes me smile. </p><p> "Daddy always drove. ( I loved that she always referred to her dad as Daddy, even though she was an adult and he had passed away over 20 years prior.) I remember how much I liked that car and remember it felt spacious even with us three kids in the back seat driving across the country. I remember loving the city and couldn't believe how dirty it was and so much different than St. Paul and Minneapolis. Daddy got turned around right in the heart of New York City. (It probably wasn't in the heart of NYC, but that was the way she always told the story.) We seemed to drive down the same streets over and over again, but he persevered and kept peering out the windows trying to find out destination. I remember how warm it was that day and being in between so many buildings there wasn't much of a breeze. With all the windows down to let in as much air as possible, I remember Joe asking for water and Char wiping her head with the back of her hand and I kept pushing my curls away from my face. We were miserable in that hot car but tried not to complain because we knew it was stressful not being able to find where we were going."</p><p> "As Daddy drove down a back alley, two men stumbled out of a doorway and slammed the back door of an apartment building." <br /><br /></p><p> ""Maria! Maria!"" A man called up to a second floor apartment. ""Throw down my brass knuckles!"" (The name of Maria was added because I have forgotten the name that was shouted.)</p><p> "My eyes were as big as dinner plates. I stared at my parents in the front seat waiting for their response." Mom continued her story.</p><p> "Placing her hand on your grandpa's arm on the wheel, grandpa took a deep breath. ""Joseph, get us out of here now. Kids roll up the windows immediately. We aren't sticking around see any brass knuckles in New York today."" My grandma Charlotte announced. </p><p> Do I know what happened? No. Do I wish I did? Absolutely? Did they see any brass knuckles being thrown down from the second floor apartment? What happened then? That was the end of the story. My mother ended the story there every time. She smiled and laughed to herself, but never volunteered any additional information. It has taken me until now to realize that it is a complete story in and of itself. My mom herself, may have not remembered any additional information. That story that she fondly remembered served a purpose in her mind and in her heart. The information she remembered and shared was all that mattered. </p><p> She told us that she enjoyed the road trip with her family. She enjoyed their company. She spoke of being protected and feeling safe in the presence of her mom and dad. She spoke only the words that mattered. </p><p> I have shared this story with my daughter a few times. I am sure I haven't gotten all the info right and am probably not doing it justice. But I smile and laugh to myself and remember the joy my mom experienced when she shared it with my sister and I. Her name may have not been Maria and I may always want to know what happened next, but for now, I have shared all the words that matter. </p><p><br /></p><p>JoAnn Grace Cook- 1945-2013</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-6012549952276602492022-05-25T16:00:00.001-05:002022-05-25T16:02:47.259-05:00Not If, But When<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2DmHeT4N8FLyo3lw02B9EZB68GuvaF2IcfXAZWZ9unJsRcf8385BaGXIMBa-_b2vsjOfOrd1T2QqCioff9EnHh-fTw_1S5OMXXo6GMID_TDyNMF7Kto88lCOfrVyoJju5R2LOU2K0tWHROLaf_o1Ylx3C4438ltRIs8LHVhvNj7IT1mn7Q9Z-CodXw/s1276/20220525_155852.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2DmHeT4N8FLyo3lw02B9EZB68GuvaF2IcfXAZWZ9unJsRcf8385BaGXIMBa-_b2vsjOfOrd1T2QqCioff9EnHh-fTw_1S5OMXXo6GMID_TDyNMF7Kto88lCOfrVyoJju5R2LOU2K0tWHROLaf_o1Ylx3C4438ltRIs8LHVhvNj7IT1mn7Q9Z-CodXw/s320/20220525_155852.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yesterday in Texas, another school shooting took place. The word another wasn't placed in the prior sentence as an afterthought. It was placed with purpose and intention. In fact, 27 school shootings have happened so far just in the year 2022. This is a phenomenon in and of itself in that school shootings do not occur anywhere else in the world, only in the United States. So, when I state another school shooting has taken place, you, like me, should be appalled, completely gutted and brought to your knees. </span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-dc34be19-7fff-71d9-f2f6-5a076900bfe1"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I shut down the news hours ago. I turned off the T.V., logged off social media and decided that the internet isn't the best place for me now or in the near future. My heart aches for families, for students, for school personnel. I sat in prayer for a time today, not distracted by things of this world or new news reports. Through a time in prayer, I was able to contain the anger in me, yet it hasn't gone anywhere. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I will not make a political or gun rights statement. I will not retweet comments made by politicians. I will not engage in conversations or try to educate those that have no desire to understand or see something from another perspective. But I will sit in these feelings that I have about unthinkable situations like 27 school shootings in less than 5 months in this country we call home. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This morning, I didn't even see my kids before they left at 7 a.m. for school. My husband was up early as usual, and got the kids out the door. But just because my husband enabled me to stay in bed, didn't mean that I was sleeping. I couldn't. Rather than letting my brain spiral with worry over school and safety, I prayed. For families who have lost their children to a senseless tragedy. For my daughter and conversations she would hear and be a part of at school today. For my special needs adult son, and what he would see on the news that he so faithfully watches every morning and every night. For educators who are broken, worried and face the very real possibility of an intruder or school shooting each and every day. For bus drivers who are the first adult that many students see besides family each morning. For children who are still young and even in their teens who fully understand what happened in Texas yesterday and were worried about leaving home today. For the parents who pulled their children near and questioned if they were making the right decision of sending their kids out the door to a school where safety isn't guaranteed. I prayed for all of them. And I know many of you did also.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> When my 15 year old daughter came home from school today, I gently brought up the subject of the shooting and she said she hadn't even heard that it happened. She said teachers didn't talk about it, her friends never mentioned it and she hadn't sat to watch the news with her brother this morning before school. Lily's only question she asked was if it was near our friends in Texas. I told her no, and informed her it was a good 400 miles away from there. I told her that I loved her, she was safe and if she had any questions for her dad or I, to always feel free to ask. Our highly verbal, heart on her sleeve child assured us she would. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Tomorrow, we as parents will do it all over again. Pray for our children as they get ready to walk out the door. Pray for our children as they head to and are at school. And pray for our children as they head home and back into our open arms. We also won't forget what it feels like to hear news like this, yet again, and again. The disbelief, the sadness, the upset, the anger. May we never grow complacent, or think it is just a passing trend. Until major changes in our country are made, no real change will ever occur. And it won't be what if another shooting happens, but when. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-15106284339870261062022-04-13T17:29:00.002-05:002022-04-13T17:29:56.000-05:00The Night Sea Air<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-d9jQViAxewiYkYvyNIR4ETngjhyLmMbRSTnl3qMZq5AWSY9k_gEl81PsVVA_kWHw0OBDpKe6rJCDG1Uk35FH_SMJJvdXrKKbOvv4sU6zoloA9GphQM-8WXWGIGkhrS9jab8EWYzOmehtuw40kAE_opbBgS1RDk3U8H8JOhwru4gFhrPCEPHiEdtbAA/s640/bridge%20pic%20for%20Write%20the%20Story.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-d9jQViAxewiYkYvyNIR4ETngjhyLmMbRSTnl3qMZq5AWSY9k_gEl81PsVVA_kWHw0OBDpKe6rJCDG1Uk35FH_SMJJvdXrKKbOvv4sU6zoloA9GphQM-8WXWGIGkhrS9jab8EWYzOmehtuw40kAE_opbBgS1RDk3U8H8JOhwru4gFhrPCEPHiEdtbAA/s320/bridge%20pic%20for%20Write%20the%20Story.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-8fa5c99e-7fff-6c2b-3ce3-0e02a16280a7"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Night Sea Air</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By: Kelli J Gavin</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For Writers Unite!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Sherri didn't really want to join me on this trip anyway. I shouldn't have felt guilty leaving her back in the hotel room, but for some reason I did. She said she would be fine and even smiled when I said I would be back in an hour, two tops. The guilt had already started to set in, and I made a mental note to stop at the taco truck on the corner on the way back and bring her something to eat. Sherri had said she wasn't hungry earlier when we arrived at the hotel, so she read a book while I devoured each bite of the meal I grabbed from the Greek Food Truck one block towards the pier. I knew she liked tacos. At least I thought she did. I said a prayer that she did because I didn't need to give her another reason to begrudge me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I wanted to see the ocean again. I needed to see it again. I told Sherri it was calling my name. Sherri rolled her eyes and replied, "Nancy, why are you so dramatic? Everything you say sounds like you snagged it from a Jane Austen novel. The ocean doesn't call your name. You just like to take time off work, preferably near water."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Feeling like she was just in a funk, I told her that I had already booked a room and if she liked I could book the airfare that night. I knew she didn't like flying, or hotels, or even the idea of sleeping in a bed that wasn't her own, but I also knew that she always found something to complain about. Every time I had begged her to join me in the past, Sherri finally relented and would say something like, "Well, maybe I could use a few days away." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> When I booked the airfare, I didn't tell her it was two first class tickets. If I had, she would say I was making a fuss and maybe even refuse to go. She again rolled her eyes at me when we boarded the plane and we were in the second row behind the cockpit. Sherri was speechless when the flight attendant offered her a glass of champagne even before take-off. I loved every second of it. Being pampered wasn't something I had been used to, so I knew that this trip was going to be special, regardless of any additional eye rolling that may be shot in my general direction. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The car that picked us up at the airport was a nice way to be delivered to the Oasis by the Sea Hotel. We didn't even need to touch our bags or even our carry- on bags once we set them on the curb. Tom was an excellent driver and left both Sherri and I his card. "Ladies, it would be my pleasure to be of any assistance while you are here on your vacation. I only need two hours advance notice. I can take you anywhere you like and return you to the Oasis."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "Thank you, Tom. That sounds excellent. Once we are settled, I will call you later this evening about our plans for the next few days." I liked Tom. I wanted this to be an effortless trip and knew using the services of a professional driver would be in our best interest.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> After I had eaten, I asked Sherri if she wanted to go for a swim or even down to the bar we passed in the lobby. "Not this evening. I am actually a bit tired from traveling. I think I just want to settle in for the evening. Maybe read and watch some T.V.. Tomorrow after breakfast, I would love to go for a swim I think."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "I am feeling a bit restless. Would you mind if I walked down the pier and back? The one we saw just a few blocks before the hotel? I would love to take in the night sea air on our first night here."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "Okay. Go "take in the night sea air." Sherri smirked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I had learned that Sherri really didn't mean anything with all her sarcasm and eye rolling. Always the cynic, her quirky personality grew on me as I got to know her about ten years ago. She slowly began to soften and even disclosed her painful childhood, the loss of her husband and the fact that she struggled to keep friends. I appreciated her honesty and told her she couldn't get rid of me if I tried. There were also those quite enduring moments when Sherri's eyes would soften and she would tell me she was glad that she could experience something with me, her dearest friend, for the first time. Because we didn't give gifts, we focused on taking trips together and experiencing life. She has been my closest friend all these years, and the person I needed to take with me on this final trip. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> As I neared the pier, I pulled out my cell phone as I wanted to take a few pictures. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How could I capture the smells? A few restaurants with open air seating were full along the promenade and I felt serenaded by the sounds of people laughing and talking surrounded me. I smelled pizza and Asian cuisine and then saw a hot dog vendor at the foot of the pier. Yes, it was a little overwhelming, but back in the country where we lived, nothing like this existed. I welcomed the sensory overload as I tried to put my thoughts in some sort of order. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Walking the well lit pier at night was something I had always wanted to do. When I saw the picture online, I knew that is where I wanted to be. Something about how the water resided so far below the planks fascinated me. I supposed that when the tide came in, the water rose significantly, but I was thrilled to find it appeared the same way as it did in the picture online. The crowds seemed to thin out as I continued to walk slowly down the pier. The noise from the promenade faded and all I could hear were a few murmured conversations between couples, the obnoxious yet graceful seagulls swooping overhead and the faint sound of the wind. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Leaning over the railing for the first time, my elbows on the bar, I breathed in the night sea air I desperately craved. I then giggled to myself knowing Sherri would view this moment as unnecessary. I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts on the matter at hand. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This would be my last trip and I needed to share this with Sherri. The diagnosis of stage 4 breast cancer and the fact that it has spread to almost all of my abdominal organs and both lungs wasn't something that I was prepared to share with her. But I needed to know. The pain was manageable at this point, but for how long? How long would I be able to keep it under control with those little white pills the oncologist prescribed to me? Knowing that surgery and chemo would only slightly prolong my life for a few months or so, I chose, under wise counsel of the second and even third doctors, to concentrate on living my life, managing my pain and being thankful for the time I had left. They had advised travel immediately as it might not be possible soon. I knew this wasn't going to be an amazing trip with tons of sight seeing or excursions planned, but time spent by the pool, walking the pier, and enjoying great meals sounded wonderful to me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I knew Sherri was tired after the day's travel, but I planned to sit her down and tell her when I returned to the room. I not only wanted to get it out of the way, I wanted to make sure that she didn't get upset if I waited closer to the time we returned home. Knowing she would be angry that I took her on this "fancy trip" only to tell her I was dying, it had to be tonight. I even made a mental note not to use the "flowery language" she hated and to just state the facts. Diagnosis. Prognosis. How I was feeling and what I was thinking. I knew I would finish with a note of thanks. I wanted to thank her for her friendship, her kindness and willingness to always do things I wanted to do and travel to the places I wanted to visit. But I also wanted to tell her that I was sorry I couldn't tell her all of this sooner and that I had been in denial through all of the extensive testing process. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Pondering how she would take this news, I hesitated walking back down the pier. Sitting on the bench, I bent my head in prayer asking God to calm my nerves, to soften Sherri's heart in advance and give me boldness in our much needed conversation. When I looked up, a young man held out a single red rose to me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "Welcome to The Oasis Pier. May this rose brighten your night." Before I could even mutter a Thank You, he moved on to a couple further back down the pier. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The rose was breathtakingly beautiful and the aroma wafted towards me as soon as it was in my hands. What a sweet gift to be bestowed as I had just finished praying. As I stood and felt a little off balance, I took a moment and knew it was time for another pill. Walking back down the pier and scanning all of the booths and shops, I finally spied the taco truck and slowly made my way to order. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "May I please order the taco trio? One beef, one chicken, one steak. Extra sour cream and a container of guac, please. And if you would please put it in a bag. Thank you." Placing the order I would have liked would just have to be what Sherri liked too. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I felt empowered. I had tacos in hand, a gorgeous red rose and a plan. Sherri was a good friend to me, she always had been. Yes, I knew this would be a difficult conversation, but it was necessary. Then, when everything had been discussed, we would sleep and be rejuvenated for the new day tomorrow. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> As I removed the key card from my front pocket, I smiled and opened the door to our hotel room. I am thankful for the solo pier walk that night. To gather my thoughts, develop a plan and to take in the night sea air. </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></span></div>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-89202009742361044482022-02-27T07:29:00.000-06:002022-02-27T07:29:21.282-06:009 Years- Missing My Mom Today<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEDI4xjPE988Fg9J6mmKSE0l2MvLRYKFtqLHG1Qb1SXPYhOmrMlMWRDPAyu99ZPMFp6KOWeiz_c1V-ZCyrKRYCn67bRV34Y_LuTttpjElrkhun2tGEptij3GbYb_OVLaNLWnUsZxDo8Ok7bLlpl5fD7en7Lx0gNYUkFjBcwVDJ8qqqTjcwfYGnH5GaLA=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="715" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEDI4xjPE988Fg9J6mmKSE0l2MvLRYKFtqLHG1Qb1SXPYhOmrMlMWRDPAyu99ZPMFp6KOWeiz_c1V-ZCyrKRYCn67bRV34Y_LuTttpjElrkhun2tGEptij3GbYb_OVLaNLWnUsZxDo8Ok7bLlpl5fD7en7Lx0gNYUkFjBcwVDJ8qqqTjcwfYGnH5GaLA=s320" width="238" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Here is the thing. It does get easier. But it never fully fades away. I am used to it now. That absence, that lingering desire for one more conversation. That sudden feeling of loss in the dark of the night. Even though I am now used to all of this, it still hurts. Sometimes, how much I miss my mom sneaks up on me. It takes my breath away and makes tears spill from eyes. It makes me halt in place and question my next steps. Sometimes the grief is a thief of present joy. But essential, all the same. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It has been 9 years. As I write that, I think- How is this possible? 9 years ago when my mom passed away, I felt it in my core. Unable to navigate daily life for a spell, I did the appropriate thing and sat in my grief. I let it permeate as I fully experienced the loss of a parent. Too many times in my life, I have watched people not want to have anything to do with loss. Grief is often too much to bear and pushing it away, far away seems to be the best option. But we all know how grief can be. It rears its ugly head when least expected, reminding you of unfinished and necessary business. I didn't want that to be me. I didn't want to feel burdened or incapable of forging through life because of a need to not feel, not experience, not deal with the loss of a parent. I also found that in intentional grieving, you can honor the memory of the one you have lost.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When tears fall, I remind myself that it is normal, acceptable and needed. But I no longer experience the onslaught as frequently. I remember she is in her Heavenly home with her Lord and Savior and what a mighty fine place that is to be. No more pain, nothing to worry about. Just adoration, praise and worship of a mighty King. I also am reminded that I, too, crave Heaven as my eternal home. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I will never stop sharing stories with my kids or anyone that will listen. I will never stop being thankful for my out of control larger than life mom. I will never forget whose daughter I am. </span></p><p>Her name was Jo Cook. And she was an amazing mom. </p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-11519108019106496562022-01-23T15:58:00.002-06:002022-11-19T21:10:34.903-06:00Stand Up Slowly<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9VboRXlSpAFmV_TJsO4CZmC_cOqwShPd0t3nYLWiHRajlQBajQc8ALCmgXuN69roEG7WVhE_-YWW4npAKLxyRxFHESeX2sJm7lbBxikl3ei8NrGM-7dDTIxdK0130SpM4052uRRK1Jn-EhKASreATVro7A4p0F5hV33D_gWAcAKb1L07HmPJp7C9kuw=s1761" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1761" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9VboRXlSpAFmV_TJsO4CZmC_cOqwShPd0t3nYLWiHRajlQBajQc8ALCmgXuN69roEG7WVhE_-YWW4npAKLxyRxFHESeX2sJm7lbBxikl3ei8NrGM-7dDTIxdK0130SpM4052uRRK1Jn-EhKASreATVro7A4p0F5hV33D_gWAcAKb1L07HmPJp7C9kuw=s320" width="196" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: large;">In January of 1995, I began working in a bank and I was excited to have my first job as an adult at a local financial institution. Two weeks after I started I was asked to work a long 12 hour split shift to help cover the numerous absences of my co-workers. My co-workers were attending a funeral of an employee from another branch. I commented that they must have known everyone because it sounded like so many people were attending the funeral. I was told they had been with the bank for about 8 years. I asked how the man had passed. I stood mouth agape listening to what happened. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> The man was working in the vault room with a teller. Both the small upper and large lower vaults were open. Preparing to load the filled coin bags into the lower vault, as the teller counted the cash from the upper vault, the man leaned over and hoisted the heavy bag into the vault. As he stood up, he cracked the back of his head on the upper thick and heavy vault door. He didn't split his head open, but was in a lot of pain and immediately got an ice pack and sat down. His wife was called to come and get him and bring him home as the pain was excessive. Two days later, the man died from a massive brain bleed. It was horrible. From that day forward, every branch instituted a new rule. One vault open at a time and the 2nd person present had to keep their hand on the open top vault door at all times and the other person would be the counter and note taker. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> My entire adult life I have been wary about hitting the back of the head. It instilled an unnatural fear in me. I never stand up under a shelf. I get into cars differently than I used to. I scope out my surroundings before standing up when I am seated on the floor. Every physical movement has become calculated and planned because of the death of a man I never met. </span></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-6947775209052139002021-12-01T11:07:00.001-06:002021-12-01T11:07:28.095-06:00The Winter Cabin<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggE_DtbBvxbTcGuBjQl2cvWFvEMNQ7P5wNOVUDjPDH8lYyfmDV7hTcWRihVJIZGf9H6gA4aCV60pU5ab2URCe82LimMzejoIvs9W-IFoOIiT3dhZAVr-V7rH4xzLR38oU7MuA1XK0FDm6t/s463/FB_IMG_1638369687925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="463" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggE_DtbBvxbTcGuBjQl2cvWFvEMNQ7P5wNOVUDjPDH8lYyfmDV7hTcWRihVJIZGf9H6gA4aCV60pU5ab2URCe82LimMzejoIvs9W-IFoOIiT3dhZAVr-V7rH4xzLR38oU7MuA1XK0FDm6t/s320/FB_IMG_1638369687925.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Winter Cabin</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By: Kelli J Gavin</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For: Writers Unite!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Picture Story Prompt</span></span></p><p><b id="docs-internal-guid-8ab6c5e7-7fff-ea58-dbc2-fb2d290f8462" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Understanding that he was upset with me yet again, I knew to just leave him alone. Whenever we disagreed, he wasn’t up for a fight. I appreciated the fact that he had lost his will to argue and walked away. I was worn out and did not possess an ounce of the energy it takes to engage with him. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Jonathan may be the smartest, most articulate man I have ever met. He graduated with honors in three years and then went on to receive two doctorates in the following four years. When he began to mansplain a simple concept, I sarcastically addressed him as “Dr. Jonathan” so that he would cease such obnoxious behavior. When he persisted, I reminded him that all of those degrees were absolutely not granted in the fields of common sense or how to pick up on social cues. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Wondering how long he would be out on the ice again, I knew that I needed to find something to keep me busy. After picking up two or three discarded books, I walked back to the picture window at the front of the cabin. This cabin that I adore has been in my family for as long as I can remember. Because we both didn’t mind the winter chill, we tended to be the only family members that planned multiple excursions up to northern Minnesota and the Gunflint Trail each winter. Enjoying the fact that we didn’t have to compete for space with my siblings or parents, we usually spread out throughout the cabin and sometimes even slept in separate rooms. Piling the beds with warm quilts and lighting a fire in both fireplaces helped keep us comfortable during our long weekend stays. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> How was someone so tall and strong, so elegant? The way he crossed leg over leg, and glided in a perfectly straight line for such a long distance, made me believe he would, at some point, just keep skating away from me. When he grimaced to himself mid conversation and then said something like, “Let’s take a break” or “I’ll be back soon”, I knew that he would soon bundle himself up in every warm winter clothing item he brought with us and grab a hat, mittens and scarf from the basket by the front door. His too big parka zipped to his chin, he exited with his skates over his shoulder. He liked the bench to the left of where the dock normally resides in the summer. I had never been sure why he gravitated to that bench, but when he sat and methodically removed his tall winter boots and began to put on his skates is when my breathing had usually returned to an expected and normal rhythm. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I had always loved Jonathan. Since the moment we met. But I believe our love had changed somehow, even evolved into more of a comfortable companionship and mutual admiration rather than burning desire. I am sad to say that I enjoyed his silent companionship more than anything. When we played cards, watched a movie together or even read in the living room. Conversation wasn’t required. We may have looked at each other fondly while together, but neither of us felt compelled to speak anymore. He always kissed me each morning, when he returned from work and at night before bed, but that may have been the only times he touched me, and I was okay with this. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> As I watched him step carefully onto the ice, he did a few gentle glides and then furiously began his endless cycle of crazy eights. Over and over again. I began to wonder if he ever became dizzy from his repetitive paths. If he did, he didn’t show it. Clapping his hands over his head a few times, I understood he was trying to warm himself up and increase the blood flow in his arms and hands. His movements were so predictable, I realized that his predictability is what calmed me. Yet annoyed me all the same.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> When Jonathan came in from the ice, he was silent, as expected. I had prepared a simple lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and apples. He smiled at my own predictability displayed on the small table in the kitchen. As he stowed his hat, mittens and scarf and removed his boots on the mat to catch the melting snow chunks, he looked at me, but said nothing. He never broke eye contact as he hung up his parka on one of the many hooks haphazardly nailed to the wall by the door. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> When he walked to the kitchen to meet me, he sat and we proceeded to eat in silence. He didn’t even attempt to make a connection, but then neither did I. Five years together and this is what we had come to. Silence while eating grilled cheese and tomato soup at the table in the cabin’s kitchen. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “I am going to say something that neither of us want to hear or say. I love you, but I am no longer in love with you. I think you feel the same. I think we need to take a break. I have located an apartment and taken out a 3-6 month flexible lease. I can move in when we get home. I think we should use this time to decide what is next for both of us.” Jonathan calmly explained.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I didn’t cry. Not one tear. I reached out and touched his hand before I was ready to speak. Staring at my soup, a rush of emotion flooded me. It was a relief. It was the feeling of hope. It was a release from all the worry. It was needed.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Thank you. For making this decision for us. To be honest, I don’t think I could have done it. But thank you for knowing that we need to do this. Thank you for enabling both of us to take the needed next step in our own lives.” </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Jonathan held my hand firmly and then pulled it to lips and kissed it. “I respect you and myself enough to know that we can’t keep doing this. This silence, this walking on eggshells. And also, there aren’t any great skating ponds back home. I need to skate when I am frustrated. Where am I going to skate back home if we were to stay together?”</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I began to laugh. Not just a giggle, but full on laughter. The tears came quickly as Jonathan began laughing. I was so thankful at that very moment for his awkward sense of humor. Laughing while parting ways wasn’t something that I ever expected to happen. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> We laughed a bit more together as we chatted and finished our lunch. It registered to me that this was the last time we would be at the cabin together. And I was okay with it. We began to pack up our belongings and pick up around the cabin knowing we would be returning home a day early. I wasn’t concerned about what Jonathan would think, but as he drove, I reached out and held his hand for the better part of our drive back to Minneapolis. I knew it was the last time we would hold hands. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Now, ten months out, things are so much better. I enjoy my work again, I have made new friends and I joined a women’s art co-op. I am excited to spend this time with my family at the cabin this winter. When my brother’s kids run amuck, I won’t be overwhelmed and wish I hadn’t come the same weekend, but will welcome the chaos and all that comes with it. My parents were so glad I agreed to a family getaway weekend and even came a day early to prepare the winter cabin and make sure the refrigerator was full to welcome all the hungry mouths that would need to be fed. I am thankful for my family, for the cabin and for blustery winters which bring a thick sheet of ice to the lake. I am also thankful for my mistaken sightings of Jonathan skating his repetitive crazy eights. I know he isn’t there, but I will always love the memories of when he was. </span></p><p><br /><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-87155413163640446242021-11-10T10:02:00.001-06:002021-11-10T15:42:20.703-06:00There Is Hope<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRsGdxF2Ba34Xn8mWtfbk7b36NuvcsvWtAoi3G0Nbe53HIE6ZDPhalVBRk2FbSyFBoo9Ta6tOTQ4K7wOFmSDjtv8Z43E_ogeWuxUaDdTtpYklCteWRGTaLc2hmPQeb9qSrHlsTLXBoqYY/s1080/FB_IMG_1635821087330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRsGdxF2Ba34Xn8mWtfbk7b36NuvcsvWtAoi3G0Nbe53HIE6ZDPhalVBRk2FbSyFBoo9Ta6tOTQ4K7wOFmSDjtv8Z43E_ogeWuxUaDdTtpYklCteWRGTaLc2hmPQeb9qSrHlsTLXBoqYY/s320/FB_IMG_1635821087330.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> On October 29th, shortly after 9 p.m., I had a freak accident in my home. Slipping on water as I entered the bathroom, my leg folded underneath and behind me as I crashed to the floor. I instantly knew my leg was broken, as they were never intended to bend in that direction. I started screaming immediately not only from pain, but also fear set in. I couldn't believe what had happened in a blink of an eye. I summoned the courage to roll and get my bent leg out from underneath me. My family came running towards my screams and entered the bathroom just as I was lifting my leg and placing it on the floor. <p></p><p>All that followed was horrible. An entire night in the ER because a bed wasn't available. 4 mega doses of narcotics and the pain was so intense, I questioned if anything had been administered. Poor communication among nurses, doctors and x-ray techs. No one really knew what had been communicated to me. Information was communicated incorrectly. And I was still writhing in pain for nearly 8 hours. I wanted to go home and attempt to sleep in my own bed.</p><p>With an immobilization brace that stretches the entire length of my left leg, I have been instructed to not bear weight even if I can, to always use my crutches, conserve my strength and focus on swelling reduction and healing. All of this without pain meds due to GI issues and the fact that they rarely help me.</p><p>Last Wednesday, I saw the Orthopedic Specialist and was thrilled to find out that my tibia plateau fracture is broken with a indentation next to it rather than broken with shattered bone. Shattered bone would mean surgery with two long pins and a plate that would stay in my leg forever. Indentation of the bone means no weight, immobile, tons of rest and hopefully slowly transitioning to a hinged brace by 6-8 weeks and hopefully off crutches by 12 weeks with a hinged brace and then I would begin physical therapy. Yes, arthritis will set in. Yes, I will need a knee replacement in the future. But not now. When I questioned the Orthopedic Specialist about how many patients spend these next 6-8 weeks and don't improve significantly and then he ends up having to do surgery anyway. He explained it has never happened and he wouldn't make the recommendation to avoid surgery now if it wouldn't benefit me in the long run. And he heard me when I said I need to get myself back to a point where I can take two walks a day with my dog swim whenever I want. </p><p>So what do I do now until I see the specialist again on the 17th of November? Exactly what he said. Nothing. I move from couch to bed to chair and back again. I am not a patient patient. I hate sitting and laying all day when I see so many things that need to be taken care of. Being completely helpless is completely humbling. </p><p>I unfortunately have also developed a severe allergic reaction to something and my body is covered in hives. It makes me miserable and am dealing with itchy, burning skin and and many bloody sores. I look like a pin cushion and have tried every over the counter and prescription med under the sun. Two more meds were called in today to the pharmacy from a TeleMed Doctor. It is painful, disheartening and frustrating as the broken leg was already more than I can handle. </p><p>But what have I discovered in the throes of misery? Kindness, beautiful servant hearts and that my local community is ready to serve others at a moment's notice. Jessica started a meal train and countless friends have signed up to bring meals into the month of December. Dawn brought me a desperately needed wheelchair. Sharon and Emily have come to my home midday for the last 6 weekdays to care for me. Cassie has come every day for the last 6 weekdays to let my dog outside at 10 a.m. Michele jumped out of her car to walk with Josh and I on my first walk this past Sunday in the wheelchair. Alice asked me about my favorite foods from Trader Joes. And Jennifer picked up grocery essentials. Each of these dear people helped me and I am eternally grateful.</p><p>Was this all by chance? No. Never. It was orchestrated by a God who cares about the details. He cares about dogs needing to go outside. He cares about loneliness setting in and sending friends at the right time. He cares about nourishment and blessing a family when everything seems to be too much. And He cares about physical safety and provides help to walk on stairs and move pillows and adjust painful brace straps. God cares about each and every detail, because he loves and cares for us. He enables people to bless someone during their time of need.</p><p>While I am so grateful, I hope to also encourage you as the reader. If you are ever given the opportunity to help someone in need, do it. Without hesitation. Make that meal, hold someone's hand and pray with them, help with children and car rides. Be the one that selflessly fills in the gaps. </p><p>I have a long road ahead of me, but I am so happy to know that help is there. My needs are great. I can not shower or dress on my own and I can't reach all of my wounds which need medication and bandages applied. But I also know that these needs will not always be present. And I look forward to a day when the pain is less, I am more mobile and everyday life becomes a bit less challenging. I am hopeful as I know how faithful God has been and will always be.</p><ul class="verses" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 400; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><li class="b3" style="margin: 1.25em;"><span class="v2" style="font-size: 1.125em;">Why, my soul, are you downcast?<br />Why so disturbed within me?<br />Put your hope in God,<br />for I will yet praise him,<br />my Savior and my God.</span><div class="vr" style="font-weight: bold; height: 1.4em; overflow: hidden; padding-top: 0.5em;"><a class="vc" href="https://dailyverses.net/psalms/42/11" style="color: #336699; margin: 0px 0.5em 0px 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: middle;">Psalm 42:11</a></div></li><li class="b2" style="background: rgb(245, 248, 251); margin-bottom: 0.4em; padding: 1.25em;"><span class="v2" style="font-size: 1.125em;">May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.</span><div class="vr" style="font-weight: bold; height: 1.4em; overflow: hidden; padding-top: 0.5em;"><a class="vc" href="https://dailyverses.net/romans/15/13" style="color: #336699; margin: 0px 0.5em 0px 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: middle;">Romans 15:</a></div></li><li class="b3" style="margin: 1.25em;"><span class="v2" style="font-size: 1.125em;">Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.</span><div class="vr" style="font-weight: bold; height: 1.4em; overflow: hidden; padding-top: 0.5em;"><a class="vc" href="https://dailyverses.net/matthew/11/28" style="color: #336699; margin: 0px 0.5em 0px 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: middle;">Matthew 11:28</a></div></li></ul>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-64621287594112635372021-08-31T21:33:00.003-05:002022-01-14T15:04:03.890-06:00Some Assembly Required<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctOZA6bM1oCyQt_mDwbG78pXjQFOUvqCbWvaLHrzcQSEo_5PPRx5JTBeBZEZMzccub0jM3-LTj0I9Q9iX7IliIBPVlPYPyw-5aKTSiPizpYyfgUarbqz0_KJeY7zWRDZxfJO_jdgJRYuE/s1080/Ferris+wheel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctOZA6bM1oCyQt_mDwbG78pXjQFOUvqCbWvaLHrzcQSEo_5PPRx5JTBeBZEZMzccub0jM3-LTj0I9Q9iX7IliIBPVlPYPyw-5aKTSiPizpYyfgUarbqz0_KJeY7zWRDZxfJO_jdgJRYuE/s320/Ferris+wheel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> The Minnesota State Fair is in full swing. Our family is excited to attend this Thursday. Covid-19 made life come to a complete standstill. One of the events that was cancelled last year was the fair. Most people would understand that it was essential that the fair was canceled along with so many other activities. As a parent of a special needs young man, the fair cancelation was one of the hardest things for me to explain to our son. Every summer, our son looks forward to four main activities. A destination vacation with our friends, a trip to the cabin, a long weekend at Madden's and a day well spent at The Minnesota State Fair. Zach has been tuning in to the local news daily and watching intently as the Great Minnesota Get Back Together took shape.</p><p> Zach yelled to me early last week from the living room. I came hustling up from the laundry room in the basement and found Zach standing face to face in front of the T.V. smiling ear to ear. He pushed play on the Tivo remote and there was a story about the assembly of the Ferris wheel at fair. Zach exclaimed, "Wait a minute! Where did it go? Where is the Ferris wheel?"</p><p> "Zach, some of the rides aren't at the fair all year long. When they close down when the fair is done, they take some of the rides down. The Ferris wheel needs to put together so that you can ride it next week." I attempted to explain to him.</p><p> "Some assembly is required." Zach responded. </p><p> I was shell shocked. How did he know what that meant? I was so confused. I asked him to hand me the remote and I pushed rewind for about a minute back in the story. Sure enough, one of the news anchors stated, "Some assembly is required on most rides at The Minnesota State Fair...."</p><p> My amazing son was able to grasp a concept that he may have not heard before and then articulate it appropriately to describe what we were seeing on the T.V..</p><p> His beautiful mind is an amazing thing to witness. Zach may not understand everything, he may not be able to talk about everything, but he takes pride in the new things he learns each and every day. </p><p> The statement- Some Assembly Required- stayed with me for the next few days. We have been working a lot in our home, and have found so many things that require assembly. Shelves, curtain rods, furniture. The list is endless. Things are purchased, assembled and replaced. </p><p> I thought of all that we encounter in life that comes in pieces. Usually people. Broken, busted edges, wounded from life, from prior relationships, depleted and even diminished people who struggle even with the concept of unrealized dreams. Not sure where to go, what to do first, or even how to take the first step forward, many of the people are discovered by others when they are in such a state. And sometimes, that broken person is actually us. </p><p> It isn't our job to fix anyone. We aren't the ones that can do it. To pick up the pieces they have toted along with them. We can love them, we can encourage them and we can be the light when darkness seems to take over. But we can't fix. Sometimes leading by example and modeling what taking the next step looks like is essential. Even showing why when life presses in, doing the next best thing is of the utmost importance. But not fix. </p><p> But what do we do when we are the broken one? The one that hurts, and grieves and mourns, the one that feels aimless and just needs something, anything to change? Often, time heals. Piece by piece is restored and placed back appropriately. A factory reset per se. The assembly required is essential and necessary. </p><p> Life has been challenging for me during Covid, this summer, and these past few weeks seem to have provided food for fodder. I know what it feels like to be dismantled, but I also know what it feels like to built up. Restored and stronger than I was to begin with. I sit with wise counsel, I am encouraged and prayed for, I am loved and able to hear and apply truth. </p><p> The assembly required in me has made me hopeful. It has enabled me to take a step forward into these fall months not only ready, but excited for what is next. </p><p> When I see the Ferris wheel at The Minnesota State Fair this Thursday, I think I will appreciate it more than I ever have. Yes, I find a story to share in just about everything. But now I understand how important it is to accept that some assembly is required. The outcome is worth it. Every time. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-3912651733163583882021-08-04T19:42:00.001-05:002021-08-04T19:47:20.452-05:00Happy Birthday, Mom<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_D2fRxuiI7lPWFsnd097Dd4U0rzJAXhYe2WoD6OcaB3I3bY9xsQbeBmCzwMCrYvbJZ22xZBP9SHgOM1h0_yeXVXtPz3FRF_Xi0N4hBMaxBJ26N-rm3qMiOibkNNA2bZEUZyCFk_mIc0pu/s1145/FB_IMG_1557680710118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1145" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_D2fRxuiI7lPWFsnd097Dd4U0rzJAXhYe2WoD6OcaB3I3bY9xsQbeBmCzwMCrYvbJZ22xZBP9SHgOM1h0_yeXVXtPz3FRF_Xi0N4hBMaxBJ26N-rm3qMiOibkNNA2bZEUZyCFk_mIc0pu/w200-h168/FB_IMG_1557680710118.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today would have been my mom’s 76th birthday. She passed away at the young age of 67. Liver Cancer was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the diagnosis</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and it claimed her in just a few short months. I say</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the diagnosis</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and not </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">her diagnosis</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for a reason. A diagnosis is defined as “The process of identifying a disease, condition, or injury from its signs and symptoms”. My mom didn’t have any signs or symptoms of the Stage 4 Cholangiocarcinoma (Cancer of the Liver Bile Ducts). There weren’t symptoms to help diagnose. It was a fluke discovery when something was picked up on a blood test. Additional tests were run to figure out what was so confusing on the blood tests. She was given a diagnosis that was unheard of. At least we thought so. Stage 4, radiation and chemo wouldn’t help as it may cause more harm than good, surgery was impossible and the goal would be to make her as comfortable as possible focusing on Palliative Care in her final months. Months. They gave her only months. This diagnosis was confusing and hard to accept for my sister and I. Our mom smiled and held our hands and said she was always ready to meet Jesus. </span></p><p><b id="docs-internal-guid-15f17b42-7fff-5292-c48a-142a6ca7f7dd" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When you look at someone who possessed as much pep and joy as my mom did, Cancer didn’t fit into that picture of who she was. There was no room. She had someone who needed help, a phone call with words of encouragement that needed to be made, a plant for a friend that needed to be watered. She had bread that needed to be baked as a gift and pretzels and chocolates that needed to be made and packed for the next wedding reception that she would attend. Cancer simply needed to take a number and get in line. Because our mom didn't ask for it, didn’t need it, and had places to go and people to see.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I reminded her that to be absent from the body meant she would be in the presence of her King. She smiled and patted my hand and drifted back to sleep. Our mom loved deeply right up until her final moments here on this earth. She prayed for others, held other people’s hands and made sure that everyone knew they were loved and she was thankful for them. She was ready to be in the presence of her Savior. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, I miss my mom, but the joy that sweeps over me when I know she isn’t in any pain, and she is where she was ready to be. I will always miss her. That will never change. But today, I have shed only a few tears remembering her. I walked a back alley in Minneapolis this afternoon on the way to a client’s home and thought how if she were to be walking with me, she would have noted how pretty the grass was growing in each crack. She would have pointed out the overgrown trees and how she loved the wood-paneled Datsun sitting in a driveway. She would have talked about all the things she saw and what she was thinking about. She surely would have spoken about Jesus. Because how could she ever contain and not talk about the Love that she has for the lover of her soul?</span></p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy Birthday, Mom. You are missed, you are treasured and I take joy today in remembering you. </span></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-22014470919099832782021-08-01T20:45:00.001-05:002021-08-01T20:45:48.084-05:00When the Smoke Fades<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35BxAiK7Ultjdcgdti8f0u-21YcoJLc30KE43PGiRZbv2Qu2PhXz88D1Jqh7FbBH-mZ9qR0OipEyij5btWM0TmFcsNEJ-YBWnbyQt0Xb5gRf7NY_L1gQUkIfrdgMe8pjMmIFig_QSyH_H/s2048/20210801_190143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35BxAiK7Ultjdcgdti8f0u-21YcoJLc30KE43PGiRZbv2Qu2PhXz88D1Jqh7FbBH-mZ9qR0OipEyij5btWM0TmFcsNEJ-YBWnbyQt0Xb5gRf7NY_L1gQUkIfrdgMe8pjMmIFig_QSyH_H/s320/20210801_190143.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I know it is just a bit of break, but today in Minnesota, we could see the sun. The blue sky and the clouds look prettier than ever before. I know that it won't last, but the beauty was welcomed today.</p><p>Minnesota is experiencing thick smoke and severe air quality alerts daily due to the epic amount of fires near the Canadian border. For days, we have left our car windows closed and prayed we could get enough fresh air in our homes. We cough the second we go outside and know that our clothing can not be worn again without washing it first because of the strong smokey smell. </p><p>Sometime after midnight tonight, another wave of extreme smoke will arrive and drive us indoors until late Tuesday, possibly Wednesday. We made the most of today know that Wednesday of this week will be the soonest extended outdoor activity is deemed as safe for those with asthma and allergy issues. </p><p>This evening after dinner and a few rounds of cards, Zach, Josh, Murray and I headed out for a walk. I didn't think I would be able to go the full circle since I have been nursing a bad ankle and knee. But I found that stretching my limbs out was exactly what I needed to feel better. </p><p>And it wasn't just my knee and ankle that felt better, my heart seemed mended a bit more also. To see my son walk Murray with Josh's direction and encouragement is something I could watch all day. Josh is so patient and kind and uses constant affirmation and reminders to help Zach as he is learning how to keep Murray walking and responsive the whole way. I allowed myself to fall back and watch my three boys enjoying an evening walk on a beautiful 80 degree day. </p><p>When the smoke fades a bit, I see it all so clearly. Some days are challenging, some a bit easier like today. And the days that are challenging, I will remember this evening and savor it. I will remember that not all days are good days, but there is always something good that can be found in each day. </p><p>Today, the goodness is treasured. </p><p><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-3399413616146541072021-07-27T20:04:00.011-05:002021-07-27T20:11:20.727-05:00Miserable Cows and Disgruntled Pelicans<p><span> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVmzHZ6UzetvOXcj5HGNWNRq2mywDr_45WpQYWPDtmqXmhjghT33ET9cHRH1ea7hXGhadio3e_E8IwriuFCj4KNoCkwBWACRk70EIeLPoq9INS9WLY8S5rQHsWhDL9R6yJ5UuB1hyphenhyphenVS0C/s1080/20210727_200901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="539" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVmzHZ6UzetvOXcj5HGNWNRq2mywDr_45WpQYWPDtmqXmhjghT33ET9cHRH1ea7hXGhadio3e_E8IwriuFCj4KNoCkwBWACRk70EIeLPoq9INS9WLY8S5rQHsWhDL9R6yJ5UuB1hyphenhyphenVS0C/s320/20210727_200901.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />My children have decided to make it as difficult for me as possible each and every day. Well, not really. But they complain about everything. And I mean everything. They start in just as their eyes open when sunlight enters their bedrooms, and sometimes they do not cease complaining until sleep overtakes them each night. At this point in the summer, I firmly believe that they may master a way of complaining while they actually sleep if possible. The sun, the heat, the bugs, chores, being told no, chores again, the heat, mom having to go to work, not being able to entertain themselves, the list goes on and on. You would think that with a summer curriculum and suggested reading, a swimming pool, bikes and scooters, chores and media time, that their days would be so compressed and full, that they would simply run out time and the ability to complain. Unfortunately, this is not the case. <p></p><p><span> </span>Most of their complaints can be easily solved. Get out of the sun, remember deodorant, bring a water bottle. Or - go in the house, grab the bug spray, go for a swim. Here is a popsicle, I am making your favorite dinner, here are your clean clothes. I feel like these are the things that easily solve my every day woes. I am overheated and need to get out of the sun. I make a habit of wearing deodorant daily as to remain as comfortable as possible in the heat. I always pack a water bottle, if not two. When I am too warm, I go back inside to the air conditioning. When the bugs are retched, I locate the bug spray. When the heat threatens to overtake me or I need to relax, the pool will always call my name. When I need a little sugar boost in the late afternoon sun, a popsicle puts a smile on my face. An excellent dinner that fills my stomach and clean clothes for the next day so I can do it all again. These are the easy problems to solve in the heat of the summer. Why can't my children problem solve and remedy their own woes? Why must they perpetually complain and then also make it my issue? </p><p><span> </span>It took me awhile to figure out why this bothers me so much. My children voice all of their complaints. Everything from an underwear problem to a grudge held far too long. I, as an adult, as a mom and wife, have a tendency to figure out a way to solve my own problems. And sometimes, I just bottle them up. I push them down, ignore them, stew over them, and even reach for them when I want to make sure that other people know even if I feel mildly inconvenienced. </p><p><span> </span>My mother always quoted from Philippians 2:14- "Do everything without complaining or grumbling." I frequently find myself reciting this verse to my children in the throes of a complaint laden day. Yes, they know it is from the bible, but the eye rolling still commences. </p><p><span> </span>I also have asked them to stop being miserable cows and disgruntled pelicans. They already believe me to be on the ridiculous side, these comments cement that idea in their minds. </p><p><span> </span>When I feel complaints arising within, I often remind myself of my mother's beloved verse. But it isn't my favorite. It reminds me that there is no place for my complaining and grumbling. That I need to figure out what the root issue is, deal with it, or solve the problem at hand. Stewing and throwing around scenarios in my brain over and over again only drag me down. The heft and the weight of the complaint or grievance only affect me. I can't hold on to what hurts me, what ails me, or what plagues my memory. I can't use my upset as an excuse to treat other people poorly and lash out at them. Even when my complaints and grumblings of the heart are because of things so much bigger than heat and sun and hunger, I still owe my children, my husband, and even myself more than choosing to continue to complain. </p><p><span> </span>It is daily for me. Daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. But the joy that I ultimately feel when make the choice to not complain, is indescribable. This choice is what changes my day and even the trajectory of my life. When there is upset and hurt and my heart seems to be a mess of broken pieces and busted edges, God is always the one that hears my prayers. He bends low to hear when I can not voice the prayers that so desperately need to be spoken. </p><p><span> </span>It really isn't as confusing as I think it is - the <i>why</i> my children complain. They complain because they have yet to realize that usually what they need or desire has already been provided for them. The how, the what, the information to solve their own problems. But that takes time and maturity. And until then, I will continue to remind them of what they need to do so that the minor issues of life do not seem so big each and every time they feel assailed. And sometimes, I will just hand them a second popsicle, pull them in close and love them until things don't seem so out of control and complaint worthy. </p><p><span> </span>No wonder my kids struggle each and every day. They are my children and they are human. Trying to solve it all on their own. I will remind them that prayer should always be the first choice. Because complaining is futile. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyp9o3__b45sfCjJgTyY9qSwWCe-ihKOL4dL-FCDZMiYC2uVY0V-R5Mmayq9oUGarRFnixtQqsMwds8p7KIoVCsTGkCNjc4zgrdROtMPU1WlaOMSGoWsRC25Eb8cNWBzs6pNJ8E9MpQz3/s1080/20210727_200846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyp9o3__b45sfCjJgTyY9qSwWCe-ihKOL4dL-FCDZMiYC2uVY0V-R5Mmayq9oUGarRFnixtQqsMwds8p7KIoVCsTGkCNjc4zgrdROtMPU1WlaOMSGoWsRC25Eb8cNWBzs6pNJ8E9MpQz3/s320/20210727_200846.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-39696494836313380562021-06-16T08:48:00.068-05:002021-06-19T12:35:56.842-05:00Tired Muscles and Tanned Faces<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Finally, the kids have both finished school for the summer. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Zach has graduated from High School, and is excited for </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">summer school to start in a few weeks and Lily is relishing </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">the summer ahead of fun including Valley Fair, JAM Camp </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and spending time with her friends. I always look forward to </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">summer, not only because of the warm weather and the ability </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">to swim every day, but because everything slows down a bit. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">No longer concerned about getting up at the crack of dawn </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">each day to get the kids off to school and get ready for work, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I am able to rest a bit each morning, actually savor a cup of </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">hot coffee and put together a day that everyone will enjoy. I </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">am able to decrease my summer hours spent with clients </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and focus more on having fun.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> We recently finished a bunch of home repairs and updates </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">including painting 1/2 of our walls, garage doors, garage trim </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and shutters. We will be patient until next month and then possibly </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">replace the carpet on our main floor and then paint 3 of the 4 </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">bedrooms. Later this summer, our backyard fence will be installed </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and modifications made to enable a suite creation for Zach for his </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">long term at home living needs. Still quite a bit to be done, but we </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">are thrilled to have a peaceful month or so with nothing to focus on </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">in our home. (We have lived here almost 19 years and these updates </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">are needed!)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-f8fd1f48-7fff-d8cd-e5c4-3cd416642fe3" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> Both of our kids work on a summer curriculum that is only meant </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">to keep their minds working during the summer months. Not hours </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">a day, and they are both usually done in about an hour to an hour </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">an half. Zach's focus is usually everyday math skills and vocabulary </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and Lily's is reading comprehension and math. Sure they complain </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">sometimes about doing work in the summer, but then there are the </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">days where a new concept is grasped or a conversation about a </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">heavy and important subject matter takes place because of the </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">reading that was accomplished that day. When I see my daughter's </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">eyes light up after having an edifying conversation and realizing she </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">did understand a text and is ready to write about it and put into her </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">own words. Those are the times I know it is worth it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> But how do we spend most of our days? We walk and swim and </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">enjoy popsicles on the deck. We explore new trails, find new thrift </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">shops and tackle home projects that are long overdue. We travel to </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">meet friends </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">and family and relax lakeside until the mosquitoes </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">drive </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">us </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">indoors. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We enjoy s'mores from the bonfire, tending to </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">vegetable </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">and flower </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">gardens, and playing fetch with our </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">beloved dog, Murray. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We drive ridiculous distances to try new </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">restaurants and pack up the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">golf clubs to head to the driving </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">range. But mostly, we enjoy being home. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pool and the deck </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">have become an extension of our home and we </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">are grateful to </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">be able to take advantage of them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> The part of summer that I enjoy most is spending time with friends </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and family. During Covid-19, I felt as if there was a permeating sense </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">of loss. Loss of close friendships, the ability to see and spend time with </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">family and friends and go to all the places and do all the things that we </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">usually do during the summer months. I missed seeing people's faces </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">and hugging them heart to heart. This summer has already shown me </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">that there is so much hope on the horizon. Plans to spend time with </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">treasured friends. And sometimes, those plans really don't include </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">anything at all. Just the idea that time has been set aside to enjoy </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">each other's company and catch up face-to-face, thrills my heart. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sharing a meal of delicious foods and beverages and laughing </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">together is something that I will never take for granted again. And </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">to see my children enjoying the company of their peers and acting </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">like children, fills this mom's heart. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> Yes, we will all travel a bit this summer. But most of the time, you </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">can find us here at home or spending time with friends in the local </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">community. Doing the things we love. The things we have missed </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">doing. The things that we enjoy as a family. I pray that each of you </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">reading this, finds something to do this summer that you maybe </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">haven't done in awhile. A trek up a mountain that was once too </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">steep to climb. The exploration of an abandoned but never forgotten </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">property. Early morning fishing with grandchildren and being able to </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">teach each young child how to bait a hook. Rediscovering your love </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">of poolside reading. May we all sleep well with tired muscles and </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">tanned faces at the end of each summer day.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-right: 108pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><br /><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-32021111492487131452021-06-16T08:02:00.000-05:002021-06-16T08:02:20.373-05:00Graduation 2021<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuoEo7FZdQKhUprFvtEgJ-oqNuCz3P-Nuwvoq0eSCOwlcsiyxFoJ1yp-032n0YFbbeSZhiMj05cnewiZTEZ0-bzWyCeqw7SLUCTDnNXBfhCl4g6KRKx4FC-H-NE3oKV2vEP96qPDoeToX/s1418/20210607_170929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1418" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuoEo7FZdQKhUprFvtEgJ-oqNuCz3P-Nuwvoq0eSCOwlcsiyxFoJ1yp-032n0YFbbeSZhiMj05cnewiZTEZ0-bzWyCeqw7SLUCTDnNXBfhCl4g6KRKx4FC-H-NE3oKV2vEP96qPDoeToX/s320/20210607_170929.jpg" /></a></div><p>When a senior graduates from high school, conversations and congratulations occur about the awards they have won, the teams they have played on, and the scholarships that have been granted for higher education. Excited by a bright future, parents, family and friends congratulate and celebrate all that is to come. Friends circle the wagons and enjoy their last days together before a summer of jobs and planning and eventually moving on to adulthood occurs. </p><p>But what about the students that have just barely crossed the finish line? And the students that have struggled and toiled and felt it might not happen? The students that won't be getting a job or moving on to college or additional higher education? Those graduates also deserve all of the encouragement, kindness and well wishes. </p><p>Our 18 year old son Zach has Autism. He is graduating this week from the Autism In Motion program at his high school in Minnesota. Zach can speak, have his needs met and adores school. However, he will never drive a car, hold a typical job, go to college or marry. Zach is funny and silly, has an infectious smile, loves heart to heart hugs, his dog Murray and his family and friends. He also loves the idea of graduating. </p><p>Zach will continue this fall in the STAR Program for the next three years. The program focuses on job skills, on the job training, personal care, kitchen skills, social skills, communication skills, money math skills and community interactions. Zach is so excited to know that two of his graduating classmates will be seen everyday. He is sad to leave his teachers and helpers and younger friends at his school, but states, "I am getting so old", and finds graduating pretty amazing.</p><p>Zach will continue living with us as for long as possible. We are in the process of modifying our home to create a large suite for him where he can spread out and continue to grow and explore new hobbies. He is a fantastic artist and needs additional room for art supplies and paper storage and artistic creation displays. This summer, he is looking forward to playing with his dog, traveling to meet friends at Lake of the Ozarks and going to Madden's Resort to play some golf in August. He is excited to swim and go to the driving range and spend a weekend at Grandma's cabin. His summer is well planned and much anticipated. </p><p>As his parents, we won't be preparing to pack him up and say goodbye as summer comes to a close, but we will be in full on summer fun mode. Seeking out new trails and beaches, discovering new coffee shops, running after ice cream trucks, and finding ways to stay cool in the sun as the pool beckons us numerous times each day. We will take all the small things that produce much joy and savor each moment.</p><p>Surround those kids that have IEP's. Love on the graduates who will start working full-time to help support their families. And always be at the ready to provide an encouraging word for the one that will tackle adulthood full on starting the day after they graduate. </p><p>Congratulations to the High School Graduating Class of 2021! You have done well, and I as a parent, a friend and an advocate are so very proud of all that you have accomplished. Well done. Well done. Well done. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_xrzKY-t4euP5EMEBdsNGN3nejxHoqpE_8NqaykwcCYUmAK6rMxCBKj6cgLbu8TdVZjLSHF6APdgEI4qWRAzdIPOMVWq-DOd6XsZs39x_ZlJ3Dz64UwbxiNs3AVNeRnX6KCbJzu4Gju4/s2048/20210607_170840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_xrzKY-t4euP5EMEBdsNGN3nejxHoqpE_8NqaykwcCYUmAK6rMxCBKj6cgLbu8TdVZjLSHF6APdgEI4qWRAzdIPOMVWq-DOd6XsZs39x_ZlJ3Dz64UwbxiNs3AVNeRnX6KCbJzu4Gju4/s320/20210607_170840.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-48028998889075629112021-04-29T16:56:00.004-05:002021-04-29T19:13:46.835-05:004 New Journals- Available Today!<p>Excited to announce that the first four of seven journals that I have designed have been published by KDP and are available on Amazon today! </p><p> A Prayer Journal </p><p>A Bible Study Journal </p><p>I Have To Write It All Down- A Journal </p><p>There Goes My Heart- A Journal </p><p>Paperback 6x9 and designed as a paperback book rather than in a notebook format.
All available just in time for Mother's Day Gifts and Year End Gifts for Teachers, Paras, Bus Drivers, etc.
Thank you for your continued support. Enjoy!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4L75ymhq87XEnziLT_yD1K8U81BQyQ4mRcpd7w0HqbY0ZO0gWe06kV6FgtJCMk3Mens3New_QWGK23jx-QtYr8G8FkUM2CUKlBNvn4IEQiuWAH8mIvWN6vX0XbpFiKTApYJPvWtoXVCX/s1545/20210429_073202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1545" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4L75ymhq87XEnziLT_yD1K8U81BQyQ4mRcpd7w0HqbY0ZO0gWe06kV6FgtJCMk3Mens3New_QWGK23jx-QtYr8G8FkUM2CUKlBNvn4IEQiuWAH8mIvWN6vX0XbpFiKTApYJPvWtoXVCX/s320/20210429_073202.jpg" /></a></div><p>https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093RWX3TY/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=kelli+j+gavin&qid=1619699324&sr=8-3</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mcMpkxS2d12swxRgfYkrWINPrSZmbN1Hk2ShwZCCoNVxrhJ7dpfG8jPCrNDKyqjfLW9sUHhZCEjU1nRZQkqs2abmtHQqr7Uj7mw9UcGRtJ0WkFQJUv0Nn1TfPdVsnCquSFuWcKZJiFdn/s1538/20210429_073151.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mcMpkxS2d12swxRgfYkrWINPrSZmbN1Hk2ShwZCCoNVxrhJ7dpfG8jPCrNDKyqjfLW9sUHhZCEjU1nRZQkqs2abmtHQqr7Uj7mw9UcGRtJ0WkFQJUv0Nn1TfPdVsnCquSFuWcKZJiFdn/s320/20210429_073151.jpg" /></a></div><br /> https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093RP1VKZ/ref=sr_1_5?dchild=1&keywords=kelli+j+gavin&qid=1619699388&sr=8-5 <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4A2m1Sg2zxTqCX1MzrJjD1NSGj_SERi6Ls5b-XZHsPKPpu2xzjL_rhv5tSCjfHEOrD8t-38V-pNx50_rbpraZ6EU07SVWzRLJ8EFnJ-7u4fjdcVgWJcslnQHyPIETH-7AaZtPOXM_Ye2g/s1556/20210429_073214.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1556" data-original-width="1076" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4A2m1Sg2zxTqCX1MzrJjD1NSGj_SERi6Ls5b-XZHsPKPpu2xzjL_rhv5tSCjfHEOrD8t-38V-pNx50_rbpraZ6EU07SVWzRLJ8EFnJ-7u4fjdcVgWJcslnQHyPIETH-7AaZtPOXM_Ye2g/s320/20210429_073214.jpg" /></a></div><p>https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093RHMFP6/ref=sr_1_6?dchild=1&keywords=kelli+j+gavin&qid=1619699388&sr=8-6</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NSzr1NaosLEU6UlbgRktjxDj11ufmBFkLQTznE65FLvBvocpU8g97XRWOIzbrtCB8lUUtLh268c2OLOUXlIxZuUdgViM1M4e7DmbCJhwv-JvSOdukXwoVNg_I-98bGRZnoAn1B-7AxcB/s1580/20210429_073227.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1580" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NSzr1NaosLEU6UlbgRktjxDj11ufmBFkLQTznE65FLvBvocpU8g97XRWOIzbrtCB8lUUtLh268c2OLOUXlIxZuUdgViM1M4e7DmbCJhwv-JvSOdukXwoVNg_I-98bGRZnoAn1B-7AxcB/s320/20210429_073227.jpg" /></a></div><p>https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093RV4RY7/ref=sr_1_4?dchild=1&keywords=kelli+j+gavin&qid=1619699388&sr=8-4 </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>-copy and past into your browser</p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-2962168248565366502021-04-07T10:26:00.000-05:002021-04-07T10:26:11.874-05:00Murray the Good Dog Loves Distance Learning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC0ONZyYRIxG2_1nWCGcIDZpCj5LsC505UzIJiUkbNSj8l843vYA1dxU3Q-Rg-MMKcODnFkdm8w37g3OTKLJ5hNJSRNxTiq72AWIf6WpspNalSSiD9hNI7dYDyJmBumz6rwhJ22R-osnB5/s2048/20210407_080521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC0ONZyYRIxG2_1nWCGcIDZpCj5LsC505UzIJiUkbNSj8l843vYA1dxU3Q-Rg-MMKcODnFkdm8w37g3OTKLJ5hNJSRNxTiq72AWIf6WpspNalSSiD9hNI7dYDyJmBumz6rwhJ22R-osnB5/s320/20210407_080521.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Zach is back to school 4 days a week and he participates in distance learning at home each Wednesday. Today, was his first day of DL that he has with his new dog at home. Murray knew right away that being near Zach at the dining room table would be the best place to camp out today. So when Zach sat down at 8 a.m., Murray laid right down next to him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Occasionally, he would rise and place his head on Zach's lap for a morning pet and lots of good boy affirmation. When Zach's first class began at 9 a.m., Zach was so excited to participate in sharing time because he knew he could talk about his new dog and show the class. </div><div><br /></div><div>When it was Zach's turn, his smile could have lit up the room. He spoke a bit about the things he knew were required of him and he was immediately interrupted by multiple people who desperately wanted a peak at Zach's new dog. </div><div>Zach gingerly maneuvered his laptop towards the sleeping dog on the floor. Everyone was so excited to see the dog that Zach had raved about for the last two days. They asked questions about what breed he was, how old he is and if he is a rescue. </div><div><br /></div><div>To be honest, I loved every minute of it. Zach was so excited and he wasn't nervous, even when Murray woke and stuck his head in between his elbow and lap.</div><div><br /></div><div>Zach is getting used to Murray and learning about petting with both hands, commands such as Stay and Sit, and that it is okay if he runs and plays. What seems chaotic to Zach is normal for a dog while playing. When he barks, Zach reminds himself that Murray is just talking. It is wonderful to see Zach learn and grow each day with his pup by his side. Is it easy? No. Is it worth it? Yes. </div><div><br /></div><div>We still have a lot to work on with Murray the good boy. He pulls on the leash, he jumps at people's faces for kisses and he plays rough. Yesterday we worked on sit, lay down and drop the ball. This morning, I am so thankful for this amazing dog that has brought us all so much joy. That we waited until we found the right dog and we weren't hasty in finding one out too soon. Because Murray is the dog for us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Murray the good dog is the dog for Zach.</div><div><br /></div>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-13417354205770636392021-03-26T20:06:00.000-05:002021-03-26T20:06:43.159-05:00Submission Request- Guest Editor for the April 2021 Flash Fiction Section of Setu<p><span style="background-color: #0084ff; color: white; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 31.875px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Call for Submissions for Setu April 2021 Flash Fiction Section
I am the Guest Editor for Setu for the month of April 2021. Please submit your Flash Fiction submissions of 500 words or less. Flash fiction stories should be in English, and not include excessive language, sex, or any derogatory racial terms. The selected pieces will be featured in the April Edition of Setu and posted to the website after the first of May. No fee to submit and no pay is offered at this time. Anyone can submit and I love reading stories from new writers who have yet to be published. All submissions are due by April 15, 2021. Please also include a bio (150 words or less) prior to listing the story in the body of your email. Please do not send any attachments. Feel free to contact me with any questions. Email your submission to kelli.gavin@gmail.com.
I look forward to reading your Flash Fiction stories!
Thank you!
Kelli J Gavin</span></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-52056324247922868472021-02-27T20:07:00.001-06:002021-02-27T20:07:28.538-06:00Eight Years Seems Like a Lifetime<p>Eight years seems like a lifetime. But it also seems like you were just here. Your passing becomes a bit easier each day, but it doesn't enable me to miss you any less. I still desire to talk with you, to sing with you and share a meal with you. I want to go to garage sales and thrift stores together and walk on the paved paths with the kids. There are new movies and books I know you would adore. But mostly, I just want to hold your hand. To see you smile. To spend time in the same room with you. </p><p>Sometimes when the pain of your absence is so heavy, I have caught myself creating a story or tale that makes it just a bit easier. You are away. Maybe on a trip. To a cabin up north or even another cruise. Someplace you loved. A place that made you smile. Maybe Hawaii one last time. By pretending you are away, it helps me imagine you happy and content and creating new memories.</p><p>I will never not miss you. Even when I am old and gray. I will still long for you to be here. But when I am old and gray, we would have more in common. By then, I may be a grandma just like you. And I know that is what you loved the most. Being a grandma is what made you shine. Being a grandma is where you found your groove. You were the perfect example of how to love your children by loving your grandchildren well. I hope some day to carry on that role.</p><p>How thankful I am that you are no longer in pain. To be absent from the body is to be present with our King. And remembering this, makes me jealous that you are able to dwell in your eternal home. I long for heaven. I love you, mom. Always.</p><p><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-87346385078991573782021-01-12T20:01:00.003-06:002021-01-12T20:01:54.765-06:00My Soul Finds Rest<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My heart hurts a bit today. Well, actually a lot. I have been working through something that is weighing heavy on me. It is something that I don't feel the need to share with others, but have spent so much time in prayer over it. When I was young, I used to wonder if God ever got irritated or sick of hearing that my prayers were often about the same things. As my relationship with the Lord grew, not only did I realize that He never gets sick of me or irritated with me, but bends low to hear my prayers. He cares enough to lean in and listen.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, in that time of growth, I also learned that God wants me to pray according to His will and not my own. My prayers need to reflect the fact that God will always know what is best for me. God is able to bring Himself glory by working in and through me. I am able to bring God glory by serving Him, serving others and aligning my heart with what He loves and what His heart aches for. But also, I need to understand that what I want, and what I pray for, will not always be granted or given to me. And I should love that! Because what I want and what I pray for, isn't always good for me or what God wants for me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gifts or prayers granted by God are because they are deemed necessary and given because of God's grace and mercy. I don't deserve it, but God loves me so much that He answers my prayers. He hears, and answers. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And sometimes the answer is No or even Not Yet. I still struggle in the firm no or in the waiting. My will, wants, my own desires internally scream to get their way, yet God firmly answers prayer, quiets my restless heart and continues to tell me to Follow Him. He never leaves me nor forsakes me. He is constant and true and never changing. He is kind and gracious in His forgiveness. And when I continue to pray for what hurts or what I want and it He doesn't deem it fit or necessary, His gentle hand guides me in the direction He wishes for me to go. Not always easy or what I want, I have learned by His faithfulness to abide in Him and rest in Him as He works out everything my good and His glory. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Will this heart hurt last forever? No. Will I continue to pray for the Lord to take it from me? Yes. But I also will pray that the Lord would satisfy the desire of my heart with something better. Not a distraction or something temporary. But something good, and pure and necessary. My soul satisfaction comes from God and God alone. He is my Rock, and my Salvation. A fortress strong, and I will not be shaken. </span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-332e9312-7fff-525c-9ff2-b0fece110342"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Soul Finds Rest- By: Stuart Townsend</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My soul finds rest in God alone,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Rock and my salvation;</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A fortress strong against my foes,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I will not be shaken.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though lips may bless and hearts may curse,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And lies like arrows pierce me,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll fix my heart on righteousness,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll look to Him who hears me.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">O praise Him, hallelujah,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Delight and my reward;</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everlasting, never failing,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Redeemer, my God.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Find rest, my soul, in God alone</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amid the world's temptations;</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When evil seeks to take a hold</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll cling to my salvation.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though riches come and riches go,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't set your heart upon them;</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The fields of hope in which I sow</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are harvested in heaven.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll set my gaze on God alone</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And trust in Him completely;</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With every day pour out my soul</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And He will prove His mercy.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though life is but a fleeting breath,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A sigh too brief to measure,</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My King has crushed the curse of death</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I am His forever.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-17659914434048701842021-01-09T20:40:00.001-06:002021-01-09T20:40:25.778-06:00Indecipherable<div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpsz6AWXXcDlGPwq6BzLMuGhiLOxbuvbjgbPvgiq0efQGmkU-4wIscqIdZqMIXrpeuBgGtESz3t9oY6NB3PHKCfA1z3vo-b-0fG6jLoztpSCR6NJ040qhoK4mse6VCyCGrDyffGcw4bwM/s1576/20210109_203801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1576" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpsz6AWXXcDlGPwq6BzLMuGhiLOxbuvbjgbPvgiq0efQGmkU-4wIscqIdZqMIXrpeuBgGtESz3t9oY6NB3PHKCfA1z3vo-b-0fG6jLoztpSCR6NJ040qhoK4mse6VCyCGrDyffGcw4bwM/s320/20210109_203801.jpg" /></a></div><br />When I sit down to write, whether it be an article for a newspaper, magazine or website or even a short story or poem for an anthology, I really never know what is going to find its way onto the page. Sometimes, I even surprise myself. Most times, it is crap and I end up deleting the whole thing. Other times, it strikes me as halfway decent and I know after making harsh cuts and editing that it will be a worthwhile piece that has merit and I should be proud if other people read it. </span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-ba9b2cb3-7fff-4a73-fd1d-d0b5657487f1"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have also noticed that as of late, a lot of what I write, ends up being just for myself or maybe one other person. A memory of something I have been trying to process. A poem written about a day I wish I could experience again for the first time. A letter written to a friend that is meant to bring comfort and encouragement. And even an apology that should have been sent a long time ago if I hadn't been so stubborn. Finding that it happens in waves, a lot of this compulsive writing tends to pour out of me. Fast and furious and at all hours of the day. The notes app on my phone advised me that it was near full. I used three notebooks in the last three months. When notes are made in the dead of night, I write down what I think I want to say. And then by morning, my chicken scratches end up being lone words or short phrases with an indecipherable word here and there. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Day Luke Died</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realized days later that I was talking about Luke Perry. This story is still formulating itself in my mind as the first draft was a weird emotional tale of a man I never had the pleasure of meeting. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">M.L.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Initials without any additional information can be a dangerous thing. It took me a week to flesh this story out. Then realized that I wasn't going to ever even post it on my blog. I shared the story with my friend Ali and she to this day has consistently teased me about it. Proof that this story should never be shared with the masses. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">#blessed</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My husband hates hashtags and he hates #blessed the most. Not only is it overused, the meaning has been lost because of the constant use on social media platforms as a way of somehow justifying a humble brag. I wrote a short quip about obnoxious hashtags and a first year magazine used the story as a sub-story about the American Housewife and the curse of obscurity. Um. That is not what I was hoping for.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Alarm Connection</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was young, my dad worked for 3M Alarm Corp. He would do these weird things like connect wires downstairs that would then light up something upstairs. He even figured out a way to rig the loudest alarm I have ever heard in our home. Keep in mind, we lived in the country, often left our doors unlocked and when it was really hot in the summer, we would leave the front door open with just the small latch lock on the screen door. Was the alarm necessary? No. But it was my dad's love of all things science and technology and his ability to create and fix most things on full display. When I left the house, I used to touch the wall where the alarm panel was located in the front entryway. I missed my dad after he left and moved out of state. That was my one connection to him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Find out the names of the games-</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was a note to ask my sister about the names of the games that we had on the basement shelves when we were young. There was one with all these light and dark brown wooden beads. I don't remember if there was a board or cups that went with the game, but I remember enjoying the game. I also remember a long wooden plank with two metal rods at a slight angle that could be moved side to side. A large metal ball rolled down the middle of the metal bars and the goal was to drop it in one of the holes below where the points totals were written. I don't remember if this was an actual game or if it was a game our dad made. A lot of my fond childhood memories revolve around playing games as a family.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Find the letters-</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I found them. They were in my mom's cedar chest which is located in my bedroom. But the letters weren't where I thought they were and they didn't contain information that I needed. They made me more sad than anything else. I felt bad for my great grandmother after reading them. I did some digging online and am grateful for some history sleuths who quickly joined in my information quest to find the census records for St. Paul. But the letters still break my heart a bit. I am in the process of trying to figure out how to tell the story as it is not a personal story, but a family one that it isn't pretty or fun to share with others. But it is true and real and speaks volumes about the long lineage of triumphant women who knew about dignity, perseverance and the love of children. I will tell this story in its entirety someday.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Read all the books</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About 3 weeks before my mom passed away, her speech slowed and she became more deliberate about what she wanted to talk about. She slept most of the time, wasn't really ambulatory and couldn't read or understand what was happening on the TV. One afternoon after work, I drove to see her, and arrived as she was sleeping. Her TV was on full blast. I hit the mute button, used her bathroom and turned on some music. When I reached to touch her hand she opened her eyes and smiled.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Ah, Kelli. I hoped to see you today. Take those books on the end table and read them. I really liked them and I think you will too." I held her hand as she drifted off. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I read the four books. And I know exactly why it was important to her that I read those four books. Someday I will share the truths that I found on those pages with anyone who cares to read about it. Because those truths weren't just stories or fanciful tales. They were my mom's way telling me what she needed me to know before her passing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zipper bags and stamps</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mom had a red zipper bag that was filled with rubber stamps and stamp pads. She rarely used them but enjoyed having them and liked to place one strategically on the back of an envelope or the bottom of a letter. When she passed, I gave the stamps and ink to Lily. She loved having them. After using all the ink and the inexpensive stamps dried up, we disposed of them, but not until they were also well loved by Lily. Now Lily uses that red zipper bag as a large travel bathroom bag. Every time I see her take it out from underneath her sink, I smile and think of my mom and her favorite red zipper bag.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will always continue writing down odd duck statements that have little to no meaning when later discovered in a notebook on top the side table or in one of my many notes apps. But I also have learned to date them, occasionally draw a picture next to them and even leave more information for future use. The one that I finished writing tonight was a poem called No Longer Welcome. It surveys the pain of a declined text and a deletion of a phone number. My heart hurt quite a bit when it happened. But after writing about it, not only did my heart feel a bit more mended, I was able to move on from a 30 relationship and know that it will all be fine in the end. Because there will always be something new and important that nudges at me until I write it down.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><div><br /></div></div>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-55299007123598102942020-12-05T20:19:00.002-06:002020-12-05T20:19:23.709-06:00Mom's Luggage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wjdH0JwzT7MReMjjE5LQdjrgipF0oJcyOCI18IkJfMpI6BtdTexy4xbVXwBCz5V9olqlHkFNEJRBn_RrJaWopF3PI9Zjre1koxIP_NiGKPWfaIWA17nBWMUYwc6j8QOYGmiPdbwSe4-8/s2048/20201205_201358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1516" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wjdH0JwzT7MReMjjE5LQdjrgipF0oJcyOCI18IkJfMpI6BtdTexy4xbVXwBCz5V9olqlHkFNEJRBn_RrJaWopF3PI9Zjre1koxIP_NiGKPWfaIWA17nBWMUYwc6j8QOYGmiPdbwSe4-8/s320/20201205_201358.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From a very young age, my sister Angela and I were regaled with stories from our mom about her travels. And when I say travels, I mean one European tour working with the Billy Graham Crusades through all of Europe and two trips to Hawaii in the mid to late 60s. My mother never traveled much as an adult, but she enjoyed every moment of it when she did. She spoke of trips to New York and the mountains with her parents when she was young and then of trips to Arizona as an adult to visit and stay with an old boss (some car mogul) with my dad after she was married. She also enjoyed trips to California for the Rose Bowl Parade and to New York for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with the high school band when my sister and I were teens. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were always challenged when it came to finances. Money was used for mortgage payments, gas, insurance, food and utilities. Money was always in short supply when it came to clothes and any extra spending or even travel. But my mom always went out of her way to make sure that we applied for grants for summer camp and that we participated in every fundraiser possible to make sure that travel was possible when it came to band trips for my sister and missions trips for myself. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When my mom packed, even if it was for an overnight or two up north, she had it down to a science. She knew exactly what would be needed, what to anticipate and what to pack for the just in case moments that were always evident when it came to kids. Falling in mud and needing an extra set of clothes, or an extra sweatshirt and jeans even when the weather forecaster said it would be 80F degrees. She had this amazing ability to plan, pack and then repack before heading home. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I always admired her small zippered bags that she still had from when she was a teenager and young adult. But what I enjoyed most, was her beautiful luggage. She had two suitcases and a carry-on bag that she had purchased when she worked at a hospital in downtown St. Paul and was planning on traveling. She told my sister and I that she had to save up to afford the three piece set from the department store, but knew that she was making a wise purchase. She also felt that the unique pattern encouraged future travel. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our mom took very good care of her three piece set. Before the days of wheeled suitcases, she said she loved carrying her matching set through an airport, or unloading it from the trunk of a car. She felt like a real adult when she carried them for the first few years. Reflecting, she knew that this luggage could quite possibly last her the rest of her life. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unfortunately, a flood of water seeping in the basement of her old rambler home ruined the luggage set and they had to be thrown in the trash. She was sorry to see them go. (My sister may still have the carry- bag. I will have to check with her.) When our mom traveled for the last time 17 years ago with friends from church on a cruise, she treated herself for only the second time in life to a new set of luggage. This time in her favorite color purple. Two wheeled suitcases with push down handles and a carry on bag. She adored her travel gear and showed them to me numerous times. She also continued to regale me with stories of travel memories. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When my mom passed away, her purple luggage set came to live at my house. No, it wasn't the original set that she loved with the travel signs and passport information printed all over them, but the purple set was what she used on her last trip. Now, my daughter packs one suitcase with her clothes and the other with her art supplies and books. She uses the carry-on as a bathroom/ toiletry bag. And each time, the purple luggage makes an appearance, I remember my dearly missed mother and the stories she told. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, I came across a beautiful suitcase at a thrift store. Tears flooded my eyes before it even registered what I was looking at. The beautiful pattern of the town names, plane tickets and passport stamps was sitting on a lower shelf, almost out of view. I wiped a few stray tears and leaned down very slowly for a closer look. Not quite the same, but so very similar. I considered purchasing the suitcase, but then realized it possessed a bit of a smell like cigarette smoke and knew it couldn't live at my home. I paused, positioned it on the floor at my feet, smiled and pulled out my cell phone to take a picture. </span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d11b2303-7fff-fdc7-04d2-c8b35ecf1f0e"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This beautiful piece made me smile today. Not only did it make me smile, it lightened my mood and made me miss my mom just a little bit less today. This time of year is challenging for me because of how much I miss my mom. She loved Thanksgiving and Christmas, decorating and cooking, hosting and feasting so very much. Even the sight of this unique piece made today a special day to remember. I shared with Lily a few stories of my mom's travels. I told her about the pictures she turned into slides from her travels and how she shared them with the seniors at the nursing home in Forest Lake. I also told Lily about the suitcase that she carried the slides in as she entertained the residents. My mom would greet each of the residents as she unpacked her treasures, and would say, "Tonight, we are traveling to Hawaii! Pack your bags and grab your sun hats and enjoy!"</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513331266667496649.post-67867624005416600182020-11-28T20:03:00.001-06:002020-11-28T20:03:28.675-06:00Welcomed <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0zbJtVv5Cd_ZH83WXXeF2_KiF6_kHSWagpT-Vco_ApC57bSh4o0CwPDHS5Q8Fph5m5aiHBmYJxW4S1ttuHXadMJkZ_-85_9RGGgHSQvYb-6hLo1qhsZmuGosqWidmH93Wo06zhsYTn7K/s2746/20201128_194952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2746" data-original-width="1145" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0zbJtVv5Cd_ZH83WXXeF2_KiF6_kHSWagpT-Vco_ApC57bSh4o0CwPDHS5Q8Fph5m5aiHBmYJxW4S1ttuHXadMJkZ_-85_9RGGgHSQvYb-6hLo1qhsZmuGosqWidmH93Wo06zhsYTn7K/w227-h457/20201128_194952.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have welcomed these four days off from work over the Thanksgiving holiday. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and had been working too much during the day and staying up even later at night to complete additional work for other clients. Needing a break, Thanksgiving has provided just that. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I planned ahead and started cooking Thanksgiving dinner the day before so that our meal, even though it was just for the four of us, wasn't going to keep me in the kitchen all day. We had a lovely meal at around 1 p.m. and we had the dishwasher loaded and the kitchen cleaned up by 2:15 p.m. Josh and Zach carried all of the Christmas decorations bins upstairs from the storage room and we as a family assembled and decorated the tree. I had 12 bins ready to be returned to the storage room that evening, with only 5 left to sort and unpack. 3 to fill with normal house decor that I put away once I put all of the Christmas items out and two that still need to be sorted and purged. Yes, I have 17 bins of just Christmas stuff. What can I say? We love Christmas! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I loved looking at all of my table and serving items, towels for both the kitchen and bathroom and going through many decorations that have been passed down through our families. Disappointed that a crystal platter had shattered in its box, but then I realized I still have two more that I love. I placed three plastic platters in with the two remaining crystal ones, and found all of my Christmas goblets and place settings were ready to be consolidated. Quickly, I got rid of a few plates and small bowls that I do not use and got rid of a few mugs that just don't hold a cup of coffee the size that I need to be able to function on a daily basis. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I placed all of the platters, service items and towel bins in the stacks to be sent back downstairs. I actually found myself to be a bit sad. The tears came quickly and there was no hiding them. Christmas won't look the way we are used to this year. Christmas will probably look the same way that Thanksgiving did. Just the four of us. There won't be any need to pull the service for 20 out, the goblets and other stemware. There won't be a need for 5 platters and 10 bowls. Because it will just be the four of us. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Covid weighs heavy on my heart. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss being able to host large get togethers and feed lots of people at once. I miss celebrating with the people that I love. And it took downsizing and repacking all the Christmas glassware for me to realize it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, I like the quiet. Yes, I like being home. Yes, I like not having to run everywhere on holidays when I am already a bit worn out already. But I will still miss hosting in my home. Covid is here for the long haul, this I know. It will take quite some time for a new normal to be established. And that new normal may not include large numbers of people for some time. But in the meantime, I will be more intentional. I will text frequently. I will knock on neighbors' doors and leave plates of cookies and pumpkin and banana bread. I will make more cards than I normally do. Not just Christmas cards, but Thinking of You cards. I Miss Your Beautiful Face cards. I Can't Wait to See You cards.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many of those cards will also include dinner invitations that will let the recipient know that when we can be together again, I can't wait to set the table with platters and goblets and fold the napkins just like my mom taught me so many years ago. They will be invitations back into my home where we can share a meal, enjoy a beverage and revel in the storytelling we have all missed. </span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-f4dfd5cc-7fff-f65a-f7cc-c7166e228292"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 26pt; margin-top: 26pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Until that time occurs, I have made the decision to use all the napkins and towels in the kitchen and the bathroom. I will light all of the great smelling seasonal candles. I will set the table and enjoy the winter berry centerpiece. I will use the beautiful hosting items that have mostly been gifted to me, even if no one other than the four of us are here to enjoy them. Because they are too beautiful and hold too many precious memories of meals shared with the people we love to be boxed and stored for the season. </span></p>Kelli j Gavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14591751132009101175noreply@blogger.com0