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Finding My Voice

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***On a blog sabbatical until July 2015***

Keeping secrets, not telling.  The truth was strangled in my throat for so many years.

Once I became strong enough to tell my truth to one, then another, I found increasing healing and empowerment in my words.  Getting the awfulness out in the open helped make the darkness flee.

Over time, telling my truth to safe people strengthened me to be able to speak my truth to anyone -even if they didn’t believe me.

Starting this blog nearly 3 years ago has been such an incredibly important part of me speaking truth in a whole new way.  Recently, I’ve discovered More

Me, and A Lady in France

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It’s satisfying to know I reached my goal of reading 24 books this year.  I like saying goodbye to 2014 with a tidy check-mark on my list.

Some of the books were ones I’d meant to get to over a long period, and others I simply stumbled upon. More

Birthdays of My Dad and My Father

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Dad’s birthday is today; gone now nearly 5 years, he would be turning 92.

He hated Christmas.  Apparently his birthday was forgotten every year in the midst of Christmas preparations when he was growing up.  The pain of being forgotten never seemed to leave him.  He would not allow us to put up a tree until his birthday had passed, and even then did so grudgingly.

I know now Dad’s Christmas experience is only a tiny window into his life story. More

School Days of Yesteryear

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I recently jotted down some memories of my school days in Alaska where the entire school K-12 was about 100 students.  Boys routinely brought guns to school for after-school hunting, the basketball team flew to other villages every weekend to compete, being white meant I was a minority, and so much more that used to seem normal to me.  I thought I’d share some of these memories with you today.  I’d love to hear about your unusual school days, too!

My hometown. Yes that's the whole town.

My hometown. Yes that’s the whole town.

Our kindergarten class went to the community library building and all I remember was watching Sesame Street. Our family didn’t have TV and it was a novelty to me. Big Bird was quite mesmerizing! I also remember going to the ‘big school’ down the street and visiting the first grade class. That was exciting! I couldn’t wait to start school.

Though I was thrilled to be in school, first grade is very vague for me. About all I remember is liking my teacher, Mrs. Randazzo.

Mrs. Knapp entered my life for second grade. She was the most magnificent and wonderful person I knew.  I simply adored her. She always had a smile and she always made me feel special and smart. All these years later, she told me I was one of four second graders in that class that could read. It explained why I remember being called on to read the script below the silent films we watched sometimes.  She had a reading corner with lots of books and cards you could mark off when you finished a book. I couldn’t get enough of reading, I think mostly because she gave me lots of praise and encouragement.

Lynne & Me 2nd grade  July 4th parade

Lynne & Me
2nd grade
July 4th parade

Third and fourth grades were with Mrs. O’Donnell. She was a spitfire and didn’t settle for any nonsense. Tammy was a year older than me and I remember the two of them getting tangled up one time.  It wasn’t pretty.  Tammy bit Mrs. O’Donnell and all hell broke loose.  More

Exposing Skeletons in the Closet

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With Halloween around the corner, ghoulish decorations are beginning to pop up alongside gargantuan pumpkins, bumpy gourds, and colorful leaves.

A plastic skeleton swinging in the wind recently reminded me of the saying about keeping skeletons in the closet.

My closet is no stranger to skeletons. Some have represented things done to me, others symbolized things I’ve done. Shame and fear were the hinges on my closet doors. Strong and secure, they kept my secrets tucked in the dark.

Or so I thought. More

PCT -Bears, Canada & Back to Reality

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My daughter’s epic summer journey on the PCT ended on September 9th.  She hiked from the Columbia River, at the Bridge of the Gods, to Manning Provincial Park in British Columbia.  It was done in sections, two alone, one with her husband, and one with her dad.

At the Columbia River, Oregon/Washington Border

At the Columbia River, Oregon/Washington Border

 

 

 

 

Canada Border 507 miles

Canada Border 507 miles

 

I dropped her and her Dad off at Stevens Pass on August 26th.

They saw 9 bears between there and the next time I resupplied them at Rainy Pass.  More

Throwing Stones

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It would be easy to make a poster-child of Adrian Peterson.

A powerful man hitting a defenseless child?  What a lowlife, coward, and disgrace.  Let’s all throw stones at him.

But wait.

What if…

What if Adrian Peterson was simply parenting the way he’d been parented.

How can we be expected to do the right thing if we’ve never been taught what the right thing is?

I am in no way condoning or excusing this behavior, nor that of any version of domestic violence.

But I believe there’s more to the story.  Much more.
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