tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376417492024-03-19T12:18:29.189-04:00Julie SmiesPieces of my lifeJulie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-5826324074708933342011-02-01T20:23:00.002-05:002011-02-01T22:42:27.028-05:00My Blizzard of 78 Adventure<span class="Apple-style-span" >I was 18 years old when the biggest snowstorm in my memory thundered through this area. I've never written about this adventure but I guess it's time!</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >In June of 1977, I accepted a job at the now-defunct Ries' Furniture Co. It was there that I met the most <i>gorgeous</i> man in the world! Jim was a salesman and, while you may not believe in this, it was love at first sight. Unfortunately, it was totally one sided. I fell for him like the proverbial ton of bricks and he barely knew I was alive. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Yet another impediment to my dreams of happy-ever-after with the gorgeous furniture salesman was my boyfriend, Dick. Yes, that was really his name. Dick was a minor celebrity in South Bend, a disc jockey for <i>the </i>teen radio station in the late 70s. Things had been cooling off in our relationship, at least on my part, and I was ready to end things with him and turn my future toward the man of my dreams. Dick had other ideas. When I tried to end things on the phone, which was the medium by which the majority of our relationship took place, he insisted that we go out to dinner. He needed to see me face to face. I agreed and so begins my blizzard adventure...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Now remember, this is 1978. It was before there was a Weather Channel, before the local news channel could afford a real meteorologist whose job it is to scare the crap out of the citizenry with dire predictions of doom and gloom falling from the sky so that every man, woman and child in the county was stocking up on milk, eggs and bread like it was the apocalypse and they better be able to make breakfast when it was over. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >It was January in northern Indiana. Of <i>course</i> it was snowing. It never occurred to me that it might do something <i>else</i> in January. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >By the time dinner was over I felt I'd been very clear about my intentions. It wasn't him, it was me. (Yes, we used that one back then too). I was sad that I'd hurt him but my decision was final. We got into his conversion van with Aladdin's Magic Carpet scene painted on the side and started driving. I say driving but mostly what we did was buck through snow drifts and do donuts on the mostly empty streets. I began to realize that this was more than just a little January storm. We made it as far as the parking lot across the street from his house in Mishawaka before he decided it would be suicide to try to drive me all the way home to South Bend. How convenient was that? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Once inside, Dick began the campaign to win back my heart. I was trapped in his house by the storm and I was under siege. I retreated, he advanced. Finally, I just had to get really mean. My knee came a fraction away from a very sensitive area before he realized I was <i>not</i> going to resume our previous relationship. Now he was angry but he wisely kept a safe distance.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >He had two large dogs who lived primarily in the basement. They were down there whining, needing to go out to do their thing. To my relief, Dick stomped down the basement stairs to let them out into the back yard. This was my chance to escape. I opened the front door, intending to sneak out and make a run for it and met with a solid wall of snow. The snow had drifted up to the gutters of his one-story house. I pushed my arm in and pulled it back. Nothing. It might have been ten feet thick for all I knew. Then I heard Dick screaming and running up the basement stairs. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >He reached the kitchen, still screaming. I couldn't see what the problem was till he turned from the sink and I could see that his arm was gashed open from his wrist to his elbow and blood was spurting everywhere! In his anger he'd gone downstairs to let the dogs out the door of his walkout basement and shoved hard on the glass of the storm door not realizing that the snow was piled up against it. His arm went straight through the glass.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I was paralyzed. I couldn't move. He was screaming at me to <i>do</i> something! I turned and looked at the wall of white outside his front door and just panicked. He was going to bleed to death right there in front of me and, to make matters worse, I'd just broken up with him! I was convinced I'd go to hell for this. <i>Think, think think! </i>What should I do? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Did I call 911? No 911 in use in Indiana. Did I call the operator to tell her to send an ambulance? No. Wouldn't have mattered anyway, the ambulances weren't able to move in the storm. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I called the <i>radio station</i> where he worked! Come on, I was only 18 and confronted with a never before seen snow anomaly and what appeared to be about a gallon of blood gushing out of my ex-boyfriend's arm. What would YOU do? Besides, it turned out to be the right thing. The disc jockey went on air with Dick's address saying anyone who could get there would be saving a life. In the meantime, I wrapped up his arm with a kitchen towel and waited for him to die or start trying to kiss me again, neither of which was appealing to me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What seemed like moments later, a giant of a man wearing a ski mask over his face, crashed through the drift in front of Dick's door, strode into the house without a word, hiked Dick over his shoulder and ran out the door with him. No kidding. I grabbed our coats and followed him through the snow to a giant vehicle idling on the front lawn, or where the lawn would have been if it wasn't buried in three feet of snow. The Abominable, as I thought of him, never spoke a word. He drove us to the hospital emergency entrance, opened the door of the truck, hauled the now barely conscious Dick out and into the ER. He plopped him in a chair and went back out the door. To this day, I have no idea who he was or what he looked like. He may have rescued hundreds that night. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >By the time the hospital physicians pumped a few pints of blood back into Dick and sewed up the gash in his arm and filled him full of drugs, the Civil Defense had gotten their act together. They took us back home where I led Dick to his bed, covered him with blankets and left him to sleep it off. I thought about cleaning up the blood in the kitchen but one look convinced me that my stomach was <i>never</i> going to stand still for that. It was nearly 6 a.m. and I wanted nothing more than to be at home. So, I put on my boots and my coat and my gloves and my hat and proceeded to do the stupidest thing in my life, oh alright, the second stupidest. I decided I was going to walk to my home, seven miles away. I know it was seven miles because I drove the route I took later that spring. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >At first, it wasn't so bad. It was starting to get light out and the snow had stopped for awhile. The wind was still blowing hard but it was behind me. On the side street where he lived, no plow had been through but there were some vehicle tracks, maybe from the Abominable, so I was able to walk without too much effort. It didn't take long to realize I'd made a big mistake. I reached the corner and the wind hit me in the face like a train. I had to lean forward to keep from falling over backward. The wind had erased any tracks and I was walking through snow up to my hips. I was also frozen. The temperature was dropping and it was snowing hard again. There was no traffic moving anywhere. I was on Mishawaka Avenue, just crossing Logan Street, when I saw the first vehicle. I tried to flag it down but they just drove past like they didn't see me. Actually, they probably didn't see me. I'm sure I was completely snow covered.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I finally made it to Ironwood. A single path had been plowed and I walked it. The snow on either side of the road was well over my head and it was almost perfectly silent. I couldn't see the houses I knew were there. It was like being on another planet. I don't know how else to describe it. One good thing, the height of the snow blocked the wind and I was fairly certain I was actually going to make it home alive. I turned onto Pleasant Street, which had no path plowed through it but at least I knew I could make it one more block to home. What I wasn't prepared for was the drift that completely covered my car parked in front of the house. I climbed over it without even realizing it was there. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I made it inside where I collapsed on the floor, much to my mom's surprise. She didn't know I was walking home. It was one of the nicest things I ever did for her.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Oh yea, I got the guy. It took some serious effort on my part but Jim finally realized I was the girl of his dreams. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-23759935621080962862010-08-17T17:31:00.002-04:002010-08-17T18:04:14.414-04:00Conversation OverheardI was in Walmart last night to buy a ball for Aidan to replace the one that got dead last week and overheard a conversation in the same aisle. It was a father talking to his young son who looked to be about 5 years old. Dad was holding out a toy to his son and said he'd buy it for him if he would "be good" from now on. "You have to listen and do what grandma tells you or I won't buy it for you". Not a word from the boy. Then grandma chimes in with "no more sass and saying 'no' when I tell you what to do" and more in a hostile, angry voice that I can't remember word for word and then she said this to her grandson: "<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">I haven't liked you since you started talking</span>". <br /><br />I turned in time to see the boy turn away from his grandma looking down at the toy in his hand with his lip trembling. I'm not a violent person but in that moment I wanted to grab her by her bleached blond hair and punch her face in. <br /><br />This conversation has dogged me all day today. I hurt so much for that little boy. I pray he has someone in his life who loves him without conditions attached, even when he acts naughty or mean. I pray that, somehow, he learns how to love unconditionally.<br /><br />I've worried at times about Aidan's less-than-conventional life. He doesn't have the traditional "two parent household" that some kids have. But what he does have are people who love him unconditionally. Two families who delight in him, enjoy him and spend time with him. Two sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, as well as his parents, who love him without boundaries, even when his behavior is less than loveable. And that is how <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">he</span></span> loves us. <br /><br />How will that little boy from Walmart learn to love?Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-26536993299197791532010-07-30T21:16:00.003-04:002010-07-30T21:20:54.559-04:00Tony's Engaged!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_QGLy2SztbFpz30W9zM_TaeElLBsF6kew95Sioj7fSCHJcVaycZsdZgX-MYDQ90ur5UnfRbrklJzJRS3mQd9F6ksbrHoNpP7FtR2fSxw_ScOpgukPiVjCsecvxs0eeeOfiza/s1600/100_1841.JPG"></a>Tony and his girlfriend, Paige, are getting married! We're so delighted to welcome her to our family. She's just as beautiful inside as out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_QGLy2SztbFpz30W9zM_TaeElLBsF6kew95Sioj7fSCHJcVaycZsdZgX-MYDQ90ur5UnfRbrklJzJRS3mQd9F6ksbrHoNpP7FtR2fSxw_ScOpgukPiVjCsecvxs0eeeOfiza/s1600/100_1841.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_QGLy2SztbFpz30W9zM_TaeElLBsF6kew95Sioj7fSCHJcVaycZsdZgX-MYDQ90ur5UnfRbrklJzJRS3mQd9F6ksbrHoNpP7FtR2fSxw_ScOpgukPiVjCsecvxs0eeeOfiza/s400/100_1841.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499873448281078338" border="0" /></a>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-63338986575279808392010-07-30T20:53:00.003-04:002010-07-30T21:15:46.921-04:00My Baby Turned 25......back on June 22. Better late than never I guess. I have some catching up to do on this blog! We celebrated with dinner at Soho with Lily, Aidan and Jake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwa58ngpiw-I2r2_HUtFYcZrm6Or3cqA2Eg_ZSQ6xXSjCx8azOp7J4JAn3EsibMPzpumOfs8pkut6OR1xO9l1jOBRjm65G87PxCzTuCXjvEqDLQFNAvJYPWhc9GjVGteA3xo_/s1600/100_1807.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwa58ngpiw-I2r2_HUtFYcZrm6Or3cqA2Eg_ZSQ6xXSjCx8azOp7J4JAn3EsibMPzpumOfs8pkut6OR1xO9l1jOBRjm65G87PxCzTuCXjvEqDLQFNAvJYPWhc9GjVGteA3xo_/s400/100_1807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499872344984636130" border="0" /></a>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-43799751762270752692009-11-19T14:46:00.000-05:002009-11-19T14:46:27.604-05:00Paranormal ActivityThis is the scariest movie I've ever seen.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/dor/objects/32013/paranormal_activity/videos/paranormal_trlr_091709.html">Trailers & Clips: Paranormal Activity - Trailer</a>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-62063275273030672342009-06-03T09:32:00.004-04:002009-06-03T10:43:09.790-04:00A Grandmother's Privilege<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I can't help being completely enamored of this boy. I don't remember what I did for entertainment before he came into our lives.<br /><br /><object width="576" height="432"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/108680359814"><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/108680359814" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="576" height="432"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="576" height="432"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/108675889814"><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/108675889814" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="576" height="432"></embed></object><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-45553431320595663152008-10-31T09:11:00.003-04:002010-07-30T13:05:37.478-04:00Happy Halloween!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnZ2jkerUmiJKaXy9ZChVrTMXdqWGbJnUp_xkNCGTgRkNDGjWKo0i4XfdXFsxxogwxRNRM34Bnu9YLgrZj98wQ6Mv-zEGoS8VPbi0-GNtAFmdyi4tHNn0QFgclS5nos1L6A45/s1600/2008+10+Aidan+pumpkins.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnZ2jkerUmiJKaXy9ZChVrTMXdqWGbJnUp_xkNCGTgRkNDGjWKo0i4XfdXFsxxogwxRNRM34Bnu9YLgrZj98wQ6Mv-zEGoS8VPbi0-GNtAFmdyi4tHNn0QFgclS5nos1L6A45/s400/2008+10+Aidan+pumpkins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499746430395865218" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SQsEeCSwHFI/AAAAAAAAANs/ZEchbC27eoQ/s1600-h/100_0965.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div></div>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-60327836409129192482008-10-30T23:28:00.011-04:002010-07-30T13:07:58.300-04:00Wondering...<div align="left">I saw this headline in the South Bend Tribune this morning and laughed out loud:<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.southbendtribune.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20081030/News01/810300282/1052/News01">Potato Creek goose hunt set</a><br /></div><div align="left">Isn't "goose hunt" an oxymoron? I mean, seriously, is it necessary to <em>hunt </em>a goose? From what I've seen they kind of just waddle around. They barely move from in front of my car even if I honk the horn at them. How much stealth would be required to take out a goose?</div><p>Just wondering...</p>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-66780640889109662202008-10-30T09:15:00.007-04:002010-07-30T13:11:19.099-04:00CreatorI'm reading <strong><em>The Case for A Creator</em></strong> by Lee Strobel and while much of it it way over my head parts of it ring a bell deep in my soul. Like this passage:<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"...the fine-tuning for simplicity, beauty, and elegance does make sense under the God hypothesis. Think of the classical conception of God - he is the greatest possible being, and therefore a being with perfect aesthetic sensibility. It wouldn't be surprising at all for God to want to create a world of great subtlety and beauty at its most fundamental level."</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:0pt;"><span style="font-size:0pt;"><span style="font-size:0pt;"></span></span></span><br /><br />For me, nature remains one of the strongest pathways for my interaction with God. My response to the beauty of creation is complete and utter gratitude for the love he demonstrates by the giving of this gift. Whether I'm standing at the edge of the ocean or flying over a lake with the power of the wind in the sails or standing on my backyard deck, my soul vibrates with joy in response to the glory of his work.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh80yy74HBrGQRAZTZddm2TVaghoFyg1WEZMc86H6l5O6na2qgkaZyC5YtxwKEvaFvhNtvVdy5qoEC0VW2qA5dR1gqCVRs086euWi6Ym1sVC2QwgibF1I5MEGtkRna9oK2r-Bs/s1600/100_1459.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh80yy74HBrGQRAZTZddm2TVaghoFyg1WEZMc86H6l5O6na2qgkaZyC5YtxwKEvaFvhNtvVdy5qoEC0VW2qA5dR1gqCVRs086euWi6Ym1sVC2QwgibF1I5MEGtkRna9oK2r-Bs/s400/100_1459.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499747846144381314" border="0" /></a>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-51801067795738563642008-10-12T17:58:00.009-04:002010-07-30T13:22:19.557-04:00SpiderBoy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtHne9XOy1ahq3q13DLQunvXpReC4W15sz_dq6mVijPDptAxE1FQQEbW0NlqJcNjog9c8GQ5bquh6UObAchUBMZKqDQzu3ABQh_Htjvgci_pyaTwsaXdFqiad6Mgg64w_2n6d/s1600/100_0928.jpg"><br /></a><br />We had fun at <a href="http://www.jollayorchards.com/">Jollay Orchard </a>in Coloma today. The highlights for Aidan included having a spider painted on his face...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBvwqU80DO8UEAmosH14OjcjpWnj3HJvGQfyAypBkwfBHk0bIUuwEVCnsCXlsWDBBfBTx1RXbgw0gDYYRxUMBPCPOX0E2TbT9daJwVJT6sV4pTemH9xtfjjhzm7qnNv9-zTSc/s1600/SpiderBoy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBvwqU80DO8UEAmosH14OjcjpWnj3HJvGQfyAypBkwfBHk0bIUuwEVCnsCXlsWDBBfBTx1RXbgw0gDYYRxUMBPCPOX0E2TbT9daJwVJT6sV4pTemH9xtfjjhzm7qnNv9-zTSc/s400/SpiderBoy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499749317991299362" border="0" /></a><br />...fishing for mutants using Niblets corn for bait...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQfLg6RA8w0MwiB4eDXstwHlAwnZ8ZHqoDhonRs_EpsHJdNa58OQstN10iaNm9oFb1qvHrGj41Reyrt68oTWE6m_L7ELhXN14tDTcd8boRGQugrbjBlKPfYixgnbn2asYjbMn/s1600/100_0895.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQfLg6RA8w0MwiB4eDXstwHlAwnZ8ZHqoDhonRs_EpsHJdNa58OQstN10iaNm9oFb1qvHrGj41Reyrt68oTWE6m_L7ELhXN14tDTcd8boRGQugrbjBlKPfYixgnbn2asYjbMn/s400/100_0895.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499749756138906770" border="0" /></a><br />...visiting with witches...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3CLguv5MjrVN1_l2gD3Mna_tndGn6uUKfEWse5TFtY0a9EWgUXzb7K3a7WQ-lGe-ayuEjT1XoIud2nirai5LXefU6HEZpliCGMrj6ay_4tWJrDu65oDftqQoiI7bqQQ2AncL/s1600/100_0900.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3CLguv5MjrVN1_l2gD3Mna_tndGn6uUKfEWse5TFtY0a9EWgUXzb7K3a7WQ-lGe-ayuEjT1XoIud2nirai5LXefU6HEZpliCGMrj6ay_4tWJrDu65oDftqQoiI7bqQQ2AncL/s400/100_0900.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499750139518802050" border="0" /></a><br />...petting a less than enthusiastic sheep...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6VsUGHWQasrsi-0taz9nThqiJCjlZBDDbj7TUiTrPOTcAmEBsqtPMNeWoDh0D0-ehc3Bepvd-Ih5g-6w1G6DnNI2-EjrClnsqA4QUEh_SBjT7a4hc8_lCxAbuiXf5tfJlVV4/s1600/100_0908.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6VsUGHWQasrsi-0taz9nThqiJCjlZBDDbj7TUiTrPOTcAmEBsqtPMNeWoDh0D0-ehc3Bepvd-Ih5g-6w1G6DnNI2-EjrClnsqA4QUEh_SBjT7a4hc8_lCxAbuiXf5tfJlVV4/s400/100_0908.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499750459527485778" border="0" /></a><br />...and "push me HIGHER Grandpa"!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtHne9XOy1ahq3q13DLQunvXpReC4W15sz_dq6mVijPDptAxE1FQQEbW0NlqJcNjog9c8GQ5bquh6UObAchUBMZKqDQzu3ABQh_Htjvgci_pyaTwsaXdFqiad6Mgg64w_2n6d/s1600/100_0928.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtHne9XOy1ahq3q13DLQunvXpReC4W15sz_dq6mVijPDptAxE1FQQEbW0NlqJcNjog9c8GQ5bquh6UObAchUBMZKqDQzu3ABQh_Htjvgci_pyaTwsaXdFqiad6Mgg64w_2n6d/s400/100_0928.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499750695465334642" border="0" /></a>Thanks to <a href="http://jeannamichelle.blogspot.com/">Jeanna</a> and <a href="http://lindsaywasik.blogspot.com/">Linz</a> for the tip on this fun place!Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-73880320326771082202008-10-10T22:21:00.003-04:002008-10-10T22:25:32.780-04:00Wondering...As Jim and I finished our delicious Mexican food at La Esperanza this evening he interrupted whatever it was I was blathering about and asked most seriously "what is it about ethnic restaurants and accordian music"? I was shocked for a moment and then had to laugh as I realized that the music playing low in the background was indeed accompanied by an accordian. The same is true in some of the Italian restaurants we visit. Just wait till the Germans open a restaurant! More accordian music.Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-26913582591317228852008-09-29T20:53:00.004-04:002010-07-30T13:30:40.290-04:00Happy Birthday Shelley!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3v6lk6D-QtKmQTWfGTqU-Q2rkbDAi46wRB1UfBcFJNZdkpl302ofD9rsYRtaFTo0FaSIj0SSW8gq5TyM7N3EUG9885RNPQtUaRZUVSx8T53AD1cACbzdr6TIpCayR-h0EocI/s1600/Shelley+7.08.JPG"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3v6lk6D-QtKmQTWfGTqU-Q2rkbDAi46wRB1UfBcFJNZdkpl302ofD9rsYRtaFTo0FaSIj0SSW8gq5TyM7N3EUG9885RNPQtUaRZUVSx8T53AD1cACbzdr6TIpCayR-h0EocI/s1600/Shelley+7.08.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3v6lk6D-QtKmQTWfGTqU-Q2rkbDAi46wRB1UfBcFJNZdkpl302ofD9rsYRtaFTo0FaSIj0SSW8gq5TyM7N3EUG9885RNPQtUaRZUVSx8T53AD1cACbzdr6TIpCayR-h0EocI/s400/Shelley+7.08.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499752918060233778" border="0" /></a>So hard to believe I didn't even know this incredible woman 5 years ago and now I feel like I've known her all my life. She can see through roadblocks to the beauty beyond. She has boundless compassion and I can't imagine life without her! She's my friend and I love her.<br /><div></div>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-58290393436861096892008-09-27T20:25:00.005-04:002010-07-30T20:16:09.360-04:00Friend or Enemy?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3rL2I1Pex1gWQKETFUyl_ObVn0ravSm0iY2uIFB9poRmChimm2SdMCoYHG_RupTqIE3ZDwyzWP9gs2pch5g3WfxsFP6Fc8tenV_SyhNZeDl_CJ7b7oirWiy3fFzwNSPOY9Jv/s1600/100_0868.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3rL2I1Pex1gWQKETFUyl_ObVn0ravSm0iY2uIFB9poRmChimm2SdMCoYHG_RupTqIE3ZDwyzWP9gs2pch5g3WfxsFP6Fc8tenV_SyhNZeDl_CJ7b7oirWiy3fFzwNSPOY9Jv/s400/100_0868.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499857365254557714" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SN7TrPNy0vI/AAAAAAAAALo/vcZaR0G2ye4/s1600-h/100_0868.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250866955332801266" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SN7TrPNy0vI/AAAAAAAAALo/vcZaR0G2ye4/s400/100_0868.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>These 88 cent plastic Walmart creatures are some of Aidan's favorite toys. He has a game that we've played over and over again. He never gets tired of it. He calls it the <em>dinosaur game</em> in spite of the fact that many of the animals are not dinosaurs. It goes like this: I am the Raptor (that mean looking guy in front). Aidan lines up all of the other animals on the floor. One by one, they climb up my leg and are confronted by the snarling Raptor who asks, in a mean growly voice, </div><br /><div>"Are you a friend or an enemy"?</div><br /><div>The response is always the same: "I'm a friend". </div><br /><div>Then the Raptor says "Ok, you can stay". </div><br /><div>The welcomed animal then rests in my lap until all of the animals have been welcomed. No script ad libs allowed. Changing the sequence or the words is grounds for a tantrum. I can't figure out why this game is so engaging for him. He'd play it forever if I'd agree. I'm good for about three rounds. Anyone have ideas?</div>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-26858174072298795912008-09-19T20:26:00.007-04:002010-07-30T20:19:54.332-04:00What's Next?Two weeks ago almost 400 people went public with their faith by choosing to be baptized on the lawn at GCC. Last week over 1600 people came to the launch of the Journey classes and today we wrapped up the two day Innovate08 conference on our campus. Church leaders from all over the country came and allowed us two days to pour into them the best of how we do what we do. God continues to be glorified.<br /><br />The most amazing thing to me is that I've been allowed to have a part in each of these events. I've had some sleepless nights lately wondering what in the world I'm doing here. I know God doesn't make mistakes but I have to ask, <em>"what are You thinking"?</em> Not that long ago I was living a life very far from Him. And tonight I'm basking in the glow of His favor. I didn't do anything to deserve this kind of privilege. For me, accepting grace is a truly humbling experience.<br /><br />I enjoyed the conference today so much more because I could share it with Jim. This is the first year he's been able to attend. He volunteered to serve as a greeter which surprised me. He's usually not very comfortable in a role that means he has to talk to people he doesn't know but, wow! He was incredible! Almost every time I saw him he was engaged in earnest conversation with guests. And he <em>loved</em> it. Who knew?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCQHXV-mR-naeoDpESkoM_Iw66mc313Rzz3TBmr_KiAwAaOc7T2R3sSRDJpAQ8yHBUBFBAKYpMMdo_xSdVoOrIzBk6LjCEBQfby3cHacTyTCCyr3Id6XCMnwJ3bHAcPpKludL/s1600/100_0809.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCQHXV-mR-naeoDpESkoM_Iw66mc313Rzz3TBmr_KiAwAaOc7T2R3sSRDJpAQ8yHBUBFBAKYpMMdo_xSdVoOrIzBk6LjCEBQfby3cHacTyTCCyr3Id6XCMnwJ3bHAcPpKludL/s400/100_0809.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499857908065139138" border="0" /></a>He's been talking all evening about the people he interacted with for the past two days. He couldn't sleep last night remembering everything he saw and heard. For an introvert who's also kind of shy this much stimulus can be exhilarating. I'm so proud of him! <p>Another great feature for me was that I got to spend some time with my friends from <a href="http://sunsetbaychapel.com/">Sunset Bay Chapel.</a> </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248071276386094706" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SNTlBTjsjnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/g2HNwFJJ_84/s320/100_0825.jpg" border="0" /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzJ3M5_q66sOlAPtNr9WX3vlN7VKxcX1AMwbSNZbf4QWUcNyRXFJRAAIQl1SuqzV6VBsl4Fwz5SCLlSzslR5vQjK9uLMaUYc7nEdrPH3XmCa5ygOQBKQAWoqdJslMb7UyXN6j/s1600/100_0826.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzJ3M5_q66sOlAPtNr9WX3vlN7VKxcX1AMwbSNZbf4QWUcNyRXFJRAAIQl1SuqzV6VBsl4Fwz5SCLlSzslR5vQjK9uLMaUYc7nEdrPH3XmCa5ygOQBKQAWoqdJslMb7UyXN6j/s400/100_0826.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499858287413615714" border="0" /></a>I've talked with Julie Siefert (front row next to her cowboy) for the last few years about her role as the <em>Front Door Connections</em> director, Sunset's version of our <em>First Impressions.</em> Julie's passion for people is evident after about 2 seconds in her company and the whole team is just a blast to hang out with. <p>I also got to sit in on my <a href="http://markwaltz.typepad.com/">boss's </a>breakout of his new book, <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lasting-Impressions-Belonging-Mark-Waltz/dp/076443747X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1221912654&sr=1-1">Lasting Impressions</a>.</em> I'm hoping I can persuade him to autograph my copy when it's released later this year. </p><p>The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity but through it all the evidence of God's blessing is pervasive. I've stopped running many times to just wonder at how great He is to me, to all of us. I don't ever want to forget, even for a moment, to be grateful to the Author of all of this.</p><p>Next month we launch <a href="http://www.elkhartpastor.com/">GCC Elkhart </a>. The holiday season is just around the corner. I can't wait to see what's next!</p>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-22256514721207829332008-09-15T08:19:00.004-04:002010-07-30T20:22:48.303-04:00Conversations<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiju90uVrEer27UkmplpP_leHSgUvnj_rgz2Dw3oho8BXwM6qKOw62Panz-1BhKKlWmPMr8a12hSjsiIaoahVUic3VgV78kP576F9P2KEWX4SM1SI5niHk_lmUcP0zmrtSglZcU/s1600/100_0978.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiju90uVrEer27UkmplpP_leHSgUvnj_rgz2Dw3oho8BXwM6qKOw62Panz-1BhKKlWmPMr8a12hSjsiIaoahVUic3VgV78kP576F9P2KEWX4SM1SI5niHk_lmUcP0zmrtSglZcU/s400/100_0978.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499859117515499618" border="0" /></a>In our ongoing attempt to teach Aidan the basic courtesies such as "please" and "thank you" the following exchange took place last night while we were watching Toy Story:<br /><div></div><br /><div>Aidan: "Grandma, get me some juice and chippies"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Me: "Aidan, that's not how you ask for something. Ask again, nicely"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Aidan: "GRANDMA PLEASE do what I TELL you PLEASE!"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><em>Sigh</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div></div>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-13558408632641730512008-09-12T22:02:00.008-04:002008-09-20T08:51:04.571-04:00Movies<span style="color:#999999;">What follows is a list of movies I've seen in the theatre for the past year. The movies in</span> <span style="color:#3366ff;">blue</span> <span style="color:#999999;">were engaging enough to keep me from dozing off, the ones in</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">red </span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#999999;">are the ones that really made an <strong>impact</strong> and the</span> </span><span style="color:#ffff00;">yellow </span><span style="color:#999999;">ones were just not worth the bucks. Not even Raisinets and movie popcorn could help those dogs.<br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff33;">Transformers </span><span style="color:#999999;">- so awful we walked out midway through.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Hairspray</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">No Reservations</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff33;">The Simpsons Movie</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The Bourne Ultimatum</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Superbad</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Across the Universe</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- bought this one as soon as it was released on DVD.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Brave One</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff33;">Into the Wild </span><span style="color:#999999;">- hard to feel bad for a self indulgent rich kid.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Feast of Love</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Dan in Real Life</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff33;">No Country </span><span style="color:#3366ff;">for </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Old Men </span><span style="color:#000000;">- </span><span style="color:#999999;">still can't decide how I feel about this one and I saw it twice.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">August Rush</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Enchanted</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Juno</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Golden Compass</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">I Am Legend </span><span style="color:#999999;">- saw this one twice.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">27 Dresses</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Spiderwick Chronicles</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff33;">Be Kind Rewind</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Penelope</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">21</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Run, Fat Boy, Run</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- sophomoric but made me laugh, a LOT.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Smart People</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Forgetting Sarah Marshall</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Baby Mama</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Iron Man</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Made of Honor</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">What Happens </span><span style="color:#ffff33;">in Vegas</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- borderline awful.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Sex and the City: the Movie</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Kung Fu Panda</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Happening</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">WALL-E</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Hancock</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- Will Smith is always fun to watch.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The Dark Knight</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- saw this one thrice!!</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Mama Mia</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff33;">Swing Vote </span><span style="color:#999999;">- unbelievably bad, left halfway through. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- the scenes in Greece brought this one up from yellow, just barely.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Vicky Cristina Barcelona</span><span style="color:#000000;"> </span><span style="color:#999999;">- MUST visit Barcelona one day.</span></strong><span style="color:#999999;"><br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></strong>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-25834725468652943742008-09-03T07:49:00.006-04:002010-07-30T20:24:34.391-04:00Wondering...why, after cleaning up my house for a party, the cat (aka the Thug)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UlTSE5Y6DsqrkZQGj72lU2bhkml69cbrhwrFCNRZ-tCMkFeQ5YCy2GgOwWVDVgEzx51kO9h9Otxzm9Y2R1aw6w4cc9biVN-YFX0AyYhfrVAXhKaa8m-oU8T5LRrCSbg-VHu9/s1600/thug.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UlTSE5Y6DsqrkZQGj72lU2bhkml69cbrhwrFCNRZ-tCMkFeQ5YCy2GgOwWVDVgEzx51kO9h9Otxzm9Y2R1aw6w4cc9biVN-YFX0AyYhfrVAXhKaa8m-oU8T5LRrCSbg-VHu9/s400/thug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499859572059389250" border="0" /></a>feels it necessary to yack up a hairball in the middle of the floor moments before guests arrive?Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-65476207424539506292008-08-31T19:00:00.008-04:002010-07-30T20:33:41.860-04:00HeartWhen I was the parent of young children I thought I could never love anyone as much as I loved these two:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-pIMm2yU2iIsSSMByoZfOdRvSaSJFDdAbuqckKxNN_uw0o_P8yykDqnelHKGC14uYbvo9cxFYvw1SYuLXihUczLeFthPUwhzKT1Z1TK6pjJ1kTHJT91fSjKGgzWWzES-3VIi/s1600/image.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 329px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-pIMm2yU2iIsSSMByoZfOdRvSaSJFDdAbuqckKxNN_uw0o_P8yykDqnelHKGC14uYbvo9cxFYvw1SYuLXihUczLeFthPUwhzKT1Z1TK6pjJ1kTHJT91fSjKGgzWWzES-3VIi/s400/image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499860380626389586" border="0" /></a>And then came Aidan:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf0l5iGHFgxO6fPG7macYvXjUa175sHBjVkdACOeMAkWwvcinIyCSgl87BcnZE0ojGH8PM67_pTFuDm50q988pcvVdb7L_ENwzr2-2STGs2v1WGR-CYV4-8g-mugDiwYMdzTby/s1600/100_1296.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf0l5iGHFgxO6fPG7macYvXjUa175sHBjVkdACOeMAkWwvcinIyCSgl87BcnZE0ojGH8PM67_pTFuDm50q988pcvVdb7L_ENwzr2-2STGs2v1WGR-CYV4-8g-mugDiwYMdzTby/s400/100_1296.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499861885514258018" border="0" /></a>And I realized there was a part of my heart that was fallow until he came into my life. Then that part was awakened. Lately, I've wondered if there are other pieces of my heart that are sleeping, just waiting for something or someone to come and breathe life into them. I look at Aidan and what I feel is so fierce and enormous it's almost frightening. And then I realize that's just how God feels about me, about every one of us, only infinitely magnified.<br /><br />Could our capacity to love ever be exhausted? I don't think so. Think about God's heart. We're made in his image. I believe he gives each of us a heart with no boundaries except those we put in place ourselves.<br /><br />God, keep me from putting any boundaries on my capacity to love.Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-64573616871579341542008-08-30T09:39:00.005-04:002008-08-30T16:38:15.583-04:00A Hidden DiamondUPDATE: Got the last 7 bottles at Meijer - we won't have to buy wine for awhile!<br /><br /><br />Jim and I enjoy wines, not just any wines, but a very specific type. We've found that the Germans make the most perfect white wines from the Mosel-Saar-Ruhr vineyards. The wines from that region are crisp and light and don't leave the tongue feeling "dusty" which is the only way I can describe what it feels like to drink Pinot Gris or Chardonnay. <br /><br />Every now and then we find a diamond in the rough like this one from Meijer:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SLlPRT_Ld1I/AAAAAAAAAHs/HZM6KiN0z9M/s1600-h/100_0754.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SLlPRT_Ld1I/AAAAAAAAAHs/HZM6KiN0z9M/s400/100_0754.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240306800263919442" /></a><br /><br />The region was right (Mosel) and the grape (Spatlese) is one of our favorites and extremely hard to find around here, so I grabbed one bottle. The price ($9.99) was a little higher than we normally like to spend, especially on an untested variety. (Yes, I can hear you rolling your eyes; Jim is Dutch). But when it rang up at $3.99 I sent Jim back for 2 more bottles. Turns out this bottle of wine is one of the absolute best we've ever tasted at <em>any</em> price! We're heading back to Meijer to grab what's left on the shelf.Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-73881841833679411952008-08-29T07:47:00.000-04:002008-08-29T10:51:34.646-04:00Wondering...why is it that when I lose weight my chest measurement is the <span style="font-weight:bold;">first</span> thing to decrease and when I gain weight it's the <span style="font-weight:bold;">last</span> place to increase?Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-15704575232108349742008-08-02T10:52:00.003-04:002008-08-02T10:56:17.318-04:00Strange CritterHave you ever seen a white toad? The insides of his rear legs are fluorescent yellow. He was less than cooperative when Jim tried to get him to show that part of his anatomy for a photo.<br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SJR1R02TsvI/AAAAAAAAAHM/xFLuJwvc5u4/s1600-h/100_0695.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SJR1R02TsvI/AAAAAAAAAHM/xFLuJwvc5u4/s400/100_0695.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229934016388641522" /></a>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-27814920900428756902008-07-22T22:40:00.000-04:002008-07-22T22:45:27.202-04:00Do I Really Have to Ask?I read <a href="http://www.leadingsmart.com/leadingsmart/2008/07/thinking-about.html">this</a> post tonight and it set off a firestorm of emotion inside me as posts like this often do. First comes regret that's so powerful it makes me feel like I've just been kicked in the stomach. On the heels of that I usually feel deeply sad for awhile. And if I let the cycle continue I start to get angry and ask "why, God, couldn't I have <em>heard</em> this advice when it might have done some good?". You see, this wonderful advice comes too late for my children who are 25 and 23 years old. Don't misunderstand; my kids are wonderful people. Nor do I believe that my influence on them, now and in the future, is immaterial. Unfortunately they seem destined to follow the same path I had to follow before I found my way to the Light. <br /><br />Almost nine years ago in October of 1999, just before I met Jesus, I reached the end of my proverbial rope. I didn't think I wanted to live anymore. Things within my family had become unendurable. My relationship with my daughter had completely disintegrated. I'd lost her to drinking, drug using, violent "friends" who completely usurped my influence with her. You might think I'm exaggerating but it's true. For weeks, months really, I had been living in a constant state of fear. Sometimes it was fear that I could live with and still function. Other times it was overpowering. Near the end, after my husband would leave for work, I locked myself inside my bedroom and stayed there until he came home. I was afraid <em>for</em> her but I was also afraid <em>of</em> her. Physically afraid of her and the people she'd become involved with. I didn't realize how sick I was. <br /><br />One night I reached a point of mental and physical exhaustion. I hadn't slept more than a few hours at a stretch in weeks. I decided that I simply couldn't go on. I had a handful of pills that I knew would kill me if I swallowed them. I felt bad that I'd be leaving my husband alone with this mess but my irrational thought was that maybe, if I was gone, my daughter might straighten out her life. Really, I felt that everything that was wrong was all my fault. I sat and stared at those pills for a very long time, wanting to go through with it but afraid. Finally I spoke these words: <strong>"God, please help me"</strong>. I'd said those words before. If asked I would even have said I <em>believed</em> in God but I had never opened my heart enough to experience <strong>who He is</strong>. Not until that night. But that night my heart, so badly mangled, cracked open enough to let Him in. <br /><br />It's nearly impossible to describe with words the very tangible presence of God. I'd never felt anything like it before that night and never so powerfully since. I <em>felt arms come around me</em>, enfold me. So strong was the sensation that, confused, I looked to where my husband lay sleeping on our bed. I thought he'd gotten up without me noticing and that he was holding me. It was in that moment that I <em>knew</em> and felt peace rush through me. The feeling was so foreign and such an intense relief that I began to cry silently. I stood up and walked to my bed over the pills I'd dropped without realizing. I laid down and fell asleep almost instantly and slept, long and deep. <br /><br />That was the start of the amazing journey on which I find myself. Things didn't magically become perfect afterwards. The two years that followed were intensely painful but, at the same time, full of wonder and discovery. The difference was that I wasn't afraid anymore. I had found a solid place to plant my feet and a direction to follow that was clearly defined for me, week after week, by the teachers at <a href="http://gccwired.com/">Granger Community Church</a>. Soon after, I discovered that the Bible was a great source of information too and I began to read it with eyes that saw everything new. <br /><br />So, when I read posts like <a href="http://www.leadingsmart.com/leadingsmart/">Tim's</a>, it seems I still have much to process through but I've also come to the understanding that <em>this is His plan</em> for my life and for my children's lives. Would I feel this amazing gratitude and joy for the life I have if I hadn't experienced all the pain? Would I be a "casual Christian", just going through the motions of faith, without that incredible "before and after?" Or would I have any relationship with Him at all without that crack in my heart? Would anything less than total devastation have caused me to realize <strong>how much I need Him</strong>?<br /><br />Do I really have to ask?Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-7363079787803941782008-06-08T14:39:00.002-04:002008-06-08T14:45:21.959-04:00Simple PleasuresNothing could have made Aidan happier than this inexpensive inflatable pool. He played baseball in the pool, put all of his plastic dinosaurs around the edge and made up complicated scenarios that only a 3 year old could understand and just generally had a great time. Simplicity is key. I'm learning!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SEwok4pDdPI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ZA5LogrbC8Q/s1600-h/Scenic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SEwok4pDdPI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ZA5LogrbC8Q/s400/Scenic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209583483105801458" /></a>Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-85074059433912229972008-05-29T12:08:00.002-04:002008-05-29T12:22:09.621-04:00Which Mom Are You?I found this <a href="http://web.tickle.com/tests/tvmom/">amusing test</a> on <a href="http://www.michellewegner.typepad.com/">Michelle's</a> blog. These are my results:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">You are Claire Huxtable from The Cosby Show. You have high expectations for your children, just like you have high expectations for yourself. You've probably got your own life and your own career, but nothing is more fun than spending time with your family. You may be a professional woman, but you enjoy getting silly with the kids sometimes.<br /><br />You want good kids, but you also want them to be successful, smart individuals who can speak their minds — as long as they do so respectfully. While you enjoy being the kind of mom that your kids can come to with a problem, you are not afraid to set them straight when they're acting badly. When it comes to discipline, you try treat your kids like adults, talking calmly and coolly. And that's ultimately why they're going to grow up with such unwavering respect for you — as both a mother and a successful person.</span><br /><br />Better than being Roseanne! (Sorry Michelle :))Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37641749.post-17781917944820061862008-05-22T20:30:00.006-04:002008-05-22T21:11:54.958-04:00Accident?For the past few years I've been in the habit of sitting on our back deck every morning to read my bible. Rain or shine, summer or winter, it's time for me to listen to what God might want me to know that day. In this season of rebirth I often wonder how anyone could believe that creation could be an accident.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYWjgoRMaI/AAAAAAAAAF8/b9yURIedEuM/s1600-h/100_0461.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYWjgoRMaI/AAAAAAAAAF8/b9yURIedEuM/s320/100_0461.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203371218783252898" /></a><br />Look at the detail in the Bleeding Heart. An accident? No.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYXEQoRMbI/AAAAAAAAAGE/aBpBXPIZ_yo/s1600-h/100_0462.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYXEQoRMbI/AAAAAAAAAGE/aBpBXPIZ_yo/s320/100_0462.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203371781423968690" /></a><br />Look at the design on the leaves of this Hosta. An accident? Not a chance.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYXcwoRMcI/AAAAAAAAAGM/oRhFzfD-ubU/s1600-h/100_0463.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYXcwoRMcI/AAAAAAAAAGM/oRhFzfD-ubU/s320/100_0463.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203372202330763714" /></a><br />Could the brilliant color of this Azalea be an accident of nature? I don't think so.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYYMgoRMdI/AAAAAAAAAGU/0A55sBBvZho/s1600-h/100_0467.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S4ZnKLahiuo/SDYYMgoRMdI/AAAAAAAAAGU/0A55sBBvZho/s320/100_0467.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203373022669517266" /></a><br />This Rhododendron flower is closed but in a few days will burst open and will be the size of a dinner plate, each petal in perfect symmetry creating something so beautiful it takes my breath away. <br /><br />How is it possible that someone could look closely at creation and not see it as the sweetest of gifts from our loving Creator?Julie Smieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05107589791333702743noreply@blogger.com0