Pre-Parenting Tips 101

Commit yourself to instruction; listen carefully to words of knowledge.  (Proverbs 23:12 NLT)

I know the title is stopping people dead in their tracks (all five of you).  You know it's true, you're thinking there is no way this gal should be giving pre-parenting or parenting tips of any kind.  But it is my blog, I can write what I want, and today I'm going to pretend like I know something important enough to share here.

#1 DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SAY THE FOLLOWING, "My kid will never..." and you can fill in the blanks with whatever you would like.  I'm telling you this is just opening you up to a world filled with whatever you just said your kid would never do.  It is like an invitation for this to be the theme of your parenting years.  Because whatever it is that you said your kid would never say, do or be WILL HAPPEN.  You are cursing yourself and your child.  Just erase this statement from your memory bank...forever.
#2 DO NOT TELL GOD, "I don't know what I would do if..." Fill in the blank there, but mine was "I have a girl."  Ha, joke is on me.  I can't be a girl mom.  I hate pink and girlie things.  I was always sort of a tomboy.  What am I going to do with a girl and all that drama?  Well, hello, guess what?  I had a girl and so far we have survived.  I love her, wouldn't trade her for another boy and am so thankful that I got a girl!  (She is part tomboy too, no surprise!)  The thing is that none of know what we will do if...in any circumstance...

#3 DO NOT SAY TO OTHERS, "Well when I have kids..." and, you guessed it, fill in the blank.  Again, this is somewhat similar to #1.  When I heard this for the first time from someone else, who shall remain nameless, I had to laugh because I knew good and well how that was going to go. Sorry, but I had no clue what parenting was going to be like before I was a parent and you probably don't either...just sayin'.

#4 DO NOT UTTER THESE WORDS, "If that were my kid, I would..." Shame on me, I have said this many times and still do.  Hello, what am I thinking?!  That probably will be my kid now that I have sealed their fate by making that stupid, stupid statement.  Also, I don't know what is going on behind the scenes with another family situation.  Sometimes what appears on the outside is not at all what it really is inside the home...you know what I mean?

#5 DO NOT SAY THESE WORDS EVEN IF IT'S JUST TO YOURSELF, "If only they would just..."Oh yeah, I have said it and still say it.  Yikes.  When will I learn?  First it was if only they would just come out already...Then please, please if they would just stop crying, I would be happy.  Uh-huh, how about this, If only they would just sleep, eat, poop, sit up, talk, stand, walk, stop talking, stand still, sit down, SHUT UP.  I could go on and on.  Even at 11 and 7, I am repeating this mantra...Stop it I say!

#6 THIS IS A TRICKY ONE BECAUSE YOU WILL WANT TO SAY THIS OVER AND OVER, BUT DON'T FALL VICTIM TO THE "If I could just have some me time..."  Oh yeah, been there, done that.  Guess what?  When I finally get it, it's weird.  I am lonely.  I don't know what to do with myself.  I can sometimes find something to do, but it's not what I imagined it would be.  I just want someone back to keep me company. And you know, tell that to someone who has lost a child or is unable to have one...ugh...yeah, better just keep my mouth shut there.

I liked the scripture I found that I posted above.  I am certain the scripture text wasn't referring to my wisdom on parenting, but you can, you know, at least take my advice and store it for future reference.  And then when and if it becomes necessary, for crying outloud, re-read it.   You may also want to refer to the Bible during tough parenting times for support, guidance, encouragement, hope and peace, you will need it. 

All joking aside, I do love my kiddos, cannot imagine my world without them (how boring it would be) and wonder what on earth I did with all my time before they came along.  I remember thinking I had it all figured out and then realized I was completely and totally clueless.  We live and we learn.  It's fun to sit around and joke with other parents about this kind of stuff.  And I know that these don't apply to everyone out there...because I know there are some really perfect, top-of-the-line, parent-of-the-year award contenders out there...Hey, maybe I should go sign up.

Never satisfied...

Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart.   (Psalms 37:4 NKJV)

I am never satisfied.  I admit it.  When I'm hungry, you might as well get out of my way.  I will shove you over to get to the kitchen, fridge or buffet line.  Yes, I will take candy from my children or the last roll out of your hand. I get the shakes, have the sweats and my head starts spinning.  It's so funny if Jay is working days and the kids and I are waiting to eat supper with him, I will literally set the table and pace.  Then as soon as he walks in, I pounce.  I practically drag him to the table so we can pray and I can start eating...I don't even care if he needs to feed the animals, go to the bathroom, change his clothes.  Sit down now and let's pray a beautiful peaceful prayer of thanksgiving over this food...so Sarah can shove it in her face because we know she is starving to death.  Truly.

When I am full, same thing, you might as well get out of my way.  Do not touch me, do not bump me, leave me alone.  I feel like a stuffed pig and I probably need to unbutton my pants...or change into something with elastic, or maybe take a nap.  It will take hours to recover, and still I will not learn and may return to the kitchen for leftovers.  I know it is sickening, but it tastes so good today and tomorrow it won't.

Temperature, where do I start?  When I am cold, I am cold.  I am sorry you are hot.  I am sorry you are sweating.  I am not.  I am freezing.  See those goosebumps on my arms, they are real.  My hands are ice-like.  I am shaking and shivering.  My body is tense because I am so cold.  I know that you cannot understand how I can be cold when you are so hot, but it is what it is.  I have had my thyroid checked, it is fine.  I wear a sweater every day at work and almost always have a sweatshirt in the car just in case we go some place that is absolutely freezing.  I drink hot cocoa every morning and night, even if it is 100 degrees outside.  I like heat and warmth...unless I am hot. 

When I am hot, I am hot.  Get out of my way, I may even be sweating.  This does not happen very often, but if it does, seriously, stand back.  I could combust...especially if it's because I am hungry.  The worst part is that I mostly sweat in two places...my butt and my chest (I was nice, thank you).  So although I may look like I'm not hot, drops of sweat are soaking my undergarments.  When I stand up from sitting on that plastic bleacher, there will be wet spots on the seat or my pants.  It is awful, I really do not like to be miserably hot.  At night I'm like a fire ball.  I begin the night with a blanket and socks on...only to be kicking them both off around midnight because I am so stinkin' hot.

Take the Midwest, we're always ready for another season.  Fall hits and everyone loves the leaves changing and the cool night air.  Fall fades into Winter and we're excited for SNOW, but when it's snowing (too much) and there is ice and maybe the electricity is out for, oh, I don't know, let's say six days, and we've had enough, we are just praying for Spring to come.  When Spring comes, we just wish it would stop raining so that everything wouldn't be so sloppy and the farmers could plant, the kids are dying for school to be out and wanting Summer to hit. Then, when we finally hit Summer, we are begging for the cooler temperatures of Fall.

Last Sunday during church there was a lot of talk about needing rain.  Of course, the need for rain was mentioned in prayer, but we also praised God for the sunshine and even the warm temperatures.  He knows what we need, which unfortunately, isn't always what we want.  When I walked out to my car after church, there were rain clouds to the north.  Amazing, it was going to rain...and it did.  Praise the Lord. 

I suppose it is just our human nature.  Eve could've refused the bite of the apple, but she didn't.  It was just the beginning.  I'm a lot like Eve at times, I am never satisfied.  I always want something else; then when I get it, sometimes I wish I hadn't.  I realize though it is because I am trying to 'satisfy' myself with things of this earth.  That is my mistake.  I know these are silly examples, but my point is that if I want to be fully satisfied, I must first delight myself in the Lord.  I must first be thankful for what I do have, what He has given me and fill myself with His word. 

I'm thankful that God will provide for me, in whatever circumstance, what it is that I need.  He knows the desires of my heart and He knows what is really important.  Am I going to starve to death if it's 6:35 pm and Jay is running late?  Probably not.  I may be a tad grouchy until I get food in my system, but I'm not suffering by any means.  I don't even know what real suffering is.  Thankfully, someone else took care of that for me.

Part II, the rest of the story...

‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.  (Mark 12:31 NLT)
So here is the really cool part of yesterday's post.  Last November we lost two of our goats, Sandy, Madolyn's precious pet, and Gidget, the goat that Lane & Jay had driven to Tennessee the year before to buy.  Those two and our two others, Pearl & Dottie, were pregnant.  We were preparing for lots of babies in February.  Unfortunately, there was a meeting of sorts between Sandy, Gidget and our neighbors' dogs.  We didn't realize it at first and were blaming the coyotes.  When the second time came around, we figured it out.

Needless to say it was not a good situation.  Sandy & Gidget did not survive.  Everyone was upset and angry.  There were no major blow-ups, no harsh words, nothing that even left hard feelings between us.  Our neighbors were gracious.  They made several offers.  We declined.  We are neighbors, we told them, our kids go to school together, we now attend church together.  We can't have this coming between us, and these things do just happen sometimes (shush, I know they happen way more at our house than others, but still...)  We have to work this out.

I have lived in the same spot, sorta, almost my entire life.  I was born and raised there, moved away for about four years, built a house and moved back.  When I saw that my previous neighbors put the For Sale sign in their yard, I was bummed.  Who on earth will move in?  What if they're awful?  What if they do this or that?  What if they are hard to get along with?  What if...  We were so thankful when someone finally bought the house next to us, and even more thankful when we discovered who it was because we already knew them and they had kids about the age of ours.  How awesome to live seven miles from town, out in the middle of nowhere and actually have neighbor kids, within walking distance, that you can play with!

So back with my original story, we came to an agreement with our neighbors, they would get rid of their dogs and we would just forget the whole thing.  We were good.  We moved on.  Fastfoward to the 4H livestock auction.  As I was saying in the previous post, I was struggling to get a good picture of Madolyn and Dude in the show arena, but for some reason, (ugh) this young man would not let go of Dude's tail.  Apparently, he thought Madolyn could not handle her little Dude and was trying to "help" out by hanging onto his tail.  It was annoying the heck out of me.  My mind was screaming, "LET GO OF THE GOAT.  SHE CAN HANDLE THE GOAT.  YOU ARE MAKING HER LOOK LIKE SHE CANNOT HANDLE HER GOAT!"  Outside appearance, however, I was zooming in, zooming out, reaching here and stretching there with my camera, muttering "get out of the way."  No picture.

And then it was over.  I had no idea who bought the goat, but I saw the smile come across my very anxious daughter's beautiful face and knew all was well.  My mom leaned over and told me that our neighbors had bought the goat and given it back.  Oh, the joy that filled my soul...(you know the song...sing it.)  Seriously, if I were a crier, the tears would've flowed.  I stood up and looked at them and mouthed "Thank you" with a smile.  They knew, I knew, we all knew why they had bid on Dude.  It was precious. 

4H teaches many lessons, but so does life.  What was just several months ago a very upsetting ordeal had resolved with a very happy and surprise ending.  We offered forgiveness and had let it go many months ago; they offered love and have hopefully received the peace they needed from the situation.  We are to love our neighbor as ourselves.  It is the greatest of His commandments.  We love our neighbors, and they love us (I think). 

If you didn't read yesterday's post, I mentioned that at one point during the auction, Madolyn told me something about God working things out and how things happen for a reason...funny how things come full circle, huh?

Off to the market...

Shout to the Lord, all the earth; break out in praise and sing for joy!  (Psalm 98:4 NLT)
Last night was the livestock auction at our county 4H fair.  It was the first time I had been since I was a senior in highschool when I auctioned off Bud, my hereford steer.  Of course, Madolyn was on the second-to-last-page so we had a long night of waiting and watching, but it wasn't that bad.  Madolyn was a nervous wreck because choosing to auction your livestock means you no longer own the animal, and unless the buyer gives it back, it goes home with someone else...or on a trailer to MARKET.

Now, the whole point of raising animals on the farm is for them to go to market, right?  God created animals for us to eat.  We are meat eaters and are not afraid to eat the beef from the cows that graze the pasture next to our house (or even our yard if they get out of the fence).  We do not, however, eat goat.  So I suppose we are sending our kids the wrong message.  "Yes, honey, it's all part of the 4H experience, you raise the animal, you show it and you sell it.  You are paid for your hard work and efforts.  If they end up going to slaughter, so be it.  They are an animal.  It is life."  But we are not eating goat.

This is Madolyn's third year of 4H.  The first year we went out and bought $50 goats, Sandy & Patrick (Sponge Bob...ha).  Patrick didn't last long...go figure.  Sandy, however, survived us and Mad showed her the first year and got several awards for her.  Awesome.  Fast foward to last year.  We prepare her to sell her goat at the auction...we get to the fair and realize we screwed up and she cannot be in the auction.  Madolyn is praising the Lord because she did not want to sell her dear friend, Sandy...who was simply a dog in goat's clothing.  (Sandy was a pet, visits in the house, roamed the yard, etc.)

This year we explain to her that if she wants to get any money from her projects, she will have to be in the auction, plain and simple.  Okay, she says, I'll do it.  We sign Dude up for the sale.  Fair week comes.  The little comments start.  "So now what happens to Dude after the auction?"  "Do they always give the goats back?"  "Do you think there's a chance I'll get Dude back?"  "No one wants a goat, right?"  And again, we are replying as neutrally as possible, "Sweetie, there is no way to know." "It's just the risk you take."  "You want the money, right?" (Sounds awful, but that's what it comes down to, you know.)

By last night she was a nervouswreck.  Like I mentioned earlier, Mad was near the end of the list.  I think that turned out to be a good thing because as she watched, over and over, 4Her's were allowed to keep their chickens, rabbits, sheep and goats.  There were a few that weren't returned, but very few.  She would leave my side where we were watching the auction, go back and "love on" Dude, come back for a while and repeat the process.  Then she says "Well, all things happen for a reason, right?  God does things for a reason so it's okay, it'll work out."  Oh boy, this is not going to be good.

Finally, the time comes for Madolyn and Dude to take their turn in the arena.  Madolyn and Dude circle the arena several times...I'm trying to get a decent picture, but I couldn't (don't even get me started) I can't keep track of who is bidding...and then it's over, just like that and I hear it...the sound of the angels and their trumpets...our dear neighbors bought Dude, the goat, and gave her back.  Madolyn was elated...I was elated.  Dude was not going to market, all is well in goat land, although Dude didn't seem to care one way or the other...Get this collar off of me and where is the hay...was what I gathered from Dude's expression.

It was a good night.  It's amazing the amount of generosity in the community for these kids and their projects.  The night before at the food auction, $10,000 was generated by the bids.  That seems incredible to me.  Thank you, Clark County.  And thank you to our neighbors for saving Dude from the market!! There is a part II to this story, but it will have to wait until tomorrow...

Hi, my name is Sarah and I'm an addict...

As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his foolishness.  (Proverbs 26:11 NLT)

Yes, it's true, I have addictions.  Let me just summarize a few that seem to really have a hold on me currently.  #1  Diet Pepsi...not just any Diet Pepsi either.  I need a 32 oz. Styrofoam cup with lots of ice and very sweet fountain Diet Pepsi.  I can tell you just about anywhere (I travel on a regular basis) where you can get the best D.P., and if they do not have the right cup (Casey's-just sayin'), then it does not warrant a purchase.  Seriously.  Sometimes if I'm desperate, I can use a smaller Styrofoam coffee cup there, but it's just not the same...and it's only about half the normal size.  Bummer.  I can tell if the CO2 is not right and/or if they have adjusted how much syrup is released.  I have learned these things.  If the gas station owner is super greedy and doesn't care about my business, he will be chinsy on the syrup and I will not return.  Thankfully, our local gas station understands my addiction and feeds it...to their benefit, I may add.

#2   Sweets, in general.  My daughter was baking cupcakes when I started.  Lord, help me, please.  She is my enabler.  I know I created her to be a little Betty Crocker because I used to make "junk" constantly...until I hit about 30 and then the junk went in the trunk, if you know what I mean.  I like a good 'ole box cake mix...even just a plain one, without icing...We (oh, yeah, Jay too at times, I'm not in this alone) will eat an entire cake in one evening, one small slice at a time.  It's pitiful.  Oatmeal cookies...hello, it's fiber, right?  Most of the time when we make oatmeal cookie batter, it doesn't even make it to the oven.  No joke...we stick it in the fridge and eat it out of the bowl.  Literally, there will be three spoons sticking out of it...What an example, huh?

#3   Scrapbooking supplies.  Note I didn't say scrapbooking, I said scrapbooking supplies... That's right, I collect supplies.  I have the cutest scrapbooking totes and materials, scissors, stickers, stamps, pages, markers, pens, glass cutter, paper cutter (two sizes)...I could go on and on.  And I have oh, about 4000 pictures sitting in piles and/or boxes...Catch that?  I didn't say they were in scrapbooks...they're waiting to be put in the scrapbooks with all the cute supplies and materials I collect.  It is really sick.  Madolyn has picked up the scrapbooking bug and completed her first scrapbook for 4H so maybe, just maybe I can collect the materials and she will put them to use.  Man, I hope so.  It's going to get the best of me!!

I know these few that I have mentioned seem harmless, I know in the big picture, they're not necessarily going to kill me or hurt someone else.  I realize I may not be arrested and thrown in jail because of them or lose my kids.  But because of the work I do, and because of a lot of the people and situations that I come in contact with, I think a lot about addiction and how hard it is to overcome them.  You know we've all thought it, Why can't they see what this is doing to them?  Don't they see they are losing everything, including their children?  Why can't they just stop?  Don't they think more of themselves than that?  How hard can it be?  What is it going to take?  How far do they have to go?

My point being is this...I, myself, have my own little addictions.  They may be harmless now, but what if they progressed?  What if they did take over my life?  Do I want to go without my Diet Pepsi every morning?  No...and why should I?  It's not hurting anything, right?  What if my collection of scrapbook supplies got to the point of hoarding or got in the way of buying my kids' clothes or school supplies?  What if my eating habits got so bad I was unable to function as the parent of young children or put my health in jeopardy?  In fact, whenever I try to quit something and I feel like it's just too hard, I think of other addicts who battle drug or alcohol addiction and think, no wonder, they have such a hard time, I can't even give up caffeine or chocolate or TV or whatever it may be, geesh, who am I kidding?

I have come to learn that before judging an addiction of someone else, I have to look at my own.  Even harmless addictions can become a problem if we let them take over our lives.  At times I am no better than a drug addict.  My morning can take a nose dive if the gas station is out of D.P., no joke. In a nutshell, I think moderation is the key.  It's when we go overboard and become dependent on things that is the problem.  Really our dependence should come from the one and only God.  But as long as I can get Madolyn to quit baking junk and instead finish my scrapbooking projects, I should be okay, that would take care of at least two of my problems, but I am so not ready to let go of that 32 oz Styrofoam fountain Diet Pepsi just yet... 

I am not kidding...

Sunday afternoon I sent Madolyn over to my mom's and my aunt's house with her cheerleading fundraiser.  She drove our ridiculously over-sized four-wheeler (can you tell I think it is too big?) over.  She is somewhat crazy when driving ATV's and other motorized vehicles.  We are always telling her to slow down, watch what you're doing, wear your helmet, etc.  Every time she heads out on that humongous beast of an ATV, I whisper a prayer for safety...

So she comes back and tells me of her fundraising success and that is the end of it, I thought...until we are rolling down the driveway after delivering her goats to the 4H fair on Sunday night.  It was around 10:30 pm and we had had a small storm, wind, hard rainfall, etc. earlier that afternoon.  We come down the drive, we are all exhausted and Madolyn says "oh, is that a pine tree laying over?"  Jay stops the truck, rolls down the window and lo and behold there is a pine tree from our windbreak laying over. 

Jay asks the question, "And how did that happen?"  Madolyn, of course, stumbles and stammers and then starts with "Well, grandma's dog was chasing me on the fourwheeler and crossed my path..."  I started cracking up because I had just posted about my pine tree woes and I had to share this.  I suppose like mother, like daughter...

Heart, head, hands & health...

The Clark County 4H fair is in full swing.  We have been preparing for this for several months now...mostly.  Up until Saturday morning around 9:20, Madolyn was still putting final touches on her scrapbook which was to be judged around 10:15 (you know, in less than an hour)...but that is how we roll around here.  That is the only general project for Mad this year, thank heavens, and she got an A with a blue ribbon!

Then there's the horse, Woody.  Woody is a big, beautiful guy in his mid-teens.  He & Mad hit it off the first time they met, and minus a rough patch last year, have done very well together.  Thankfully, Woody has come to his senses and returned to his old self.  He was for sale for a while (which is better than the alternative around here, nothing intentional, just seems to be the norm) but we couldn't get rid of him and now I'm glad that we didn't.  Woody and Madolyn will be showing off in the horse ring later this morning.  It was priceless last year during the horse show when Madolyn & Woody were doing barrels, everyone was cheering for Woody (as in hurry up, you old horse) and clapping and yelling for them.  I loved it.  I just laughed because I knew why they were cheering.  He's not exactly known for his speed, but he carries on.  They did great, especially for it being their first time in a real competition.  No awards, but they completed the classes and there were no major mishaps.  I'm looking forward to another performance today.

Tomorrow is the goat show.  We lost our beloved, Sandy, this year so it will be a little different without her in the ring.  Madolyn showed her the first year of 4H and received Grand Champions on her; showed her last year and got another Grand Champion with her.  She was so gentle and sweet.  This year the main attraction will be Dude.  Dude, twin to Dodger the blind and somewhat retarded goat, is looking pretty good so far.  He is very friendly and doesn't mind Madolyn pulling him around to and fro.  I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it goes.

Madolyn does such a good job in the ring.  She takes it seriously and tries so hard to do everything right.  It makes my heart swell with pride when I watch her maintain her composure as an unruly goat tries to pull away.  Last year right when the judge looked her way, she walked in front of the goat during the showmanship competition.  You could just see her facial expression, it told the story.  'Oh crud, I just screwed up.'  The judge kinda laughed as he told her, "Young lady, you knew what you did wrong as soon as you did it, didn't you?"  He couldn't give her Junior Showmanship, she received the Reserve.  It's okay, she did a great job and we were proud of her, of course.  The key was that she knew what she had done wrong when she did it and I bet she doesn't do it again.

4H is such a great program.  It's not just about animals and farm life.  There are lots and lots of general projects to choose from.  This year I was a judge's helper and I learned a lot about the various project choices available to kids.  I really had no idea.  It's awesome to see these kids' work and hear them describe what they did, why they did it and see their confidence.  I believe it really does help prepare kids for their futures and I encourage you to support your local 4H program if possible.  With our great state's financial situation, programs like these are having their budgets cut in many ways.

Ask me, oh, about Wednesday morning how I feel about my heart, head, hands and health...I bet I won't be so chipper...but we'll relax, regroup and start planning for the next year.  Lane has another year to wait and then he would like to show pigs...Heaven help us!

Maybe it's not the flu

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  (James 1:17 NIV)

 

Just around Christmas of 1999, I got sick.  Jay & I were living in Lawrenceville with Gunner, Macey & the Meepie.  It was a terrible stomach flu.  I remember going to basketball games and just feeling like total death.  It was just awful.  I missed a couple days of work.  Then the new year came, man alive, that flu bug would just not go away.  I could not seem to get over whatever was ailing me.

Finally about mid-January, my circuit clerk (and dear friend ML) says to me, Sarah, honey, maybe it's not the flu.  Maybe you're pregnant.  Hhhhm, I suppose I could be.  So for whatever reason, I waited until the next morning to drive to Wal-Mart before work and buy the test.  I don't know why, but it is so embarrassing to buy a pregnancy test.  I was married, I was 24 (going on 25), but I was still mortified to have to buy the silly test...I'm guessing, now that I think about it, that is probably why I waited until 6:00 a.m. to go shopping.

Well, without all the gory details, the test indicated that, yes, as a matter of fact, I didn't have the flu, I was only pregnant.  Only pregnant.  Well, good...at least it's not the flu.  Pregnant?!!  I remember yelling at Jay, we are going to have a baby...and then I remember him not responding for what seemed like forever.  Jay finally muttered, "We are going to be parents,"  I'm not sure if that was a statement, question or cry for help.

So I went to the doctor and figured out that I was about ten weeks along.  Thought maybe that flu bug would go away, but it didn't.  That 'flu' stuck with me for what seemed like FOREVER.  At one point, I had a countdown going and I would report in to the State's Atty's office in Lawrenceville every morning.  I know it went on for three months, every day.  I'm sure they appreciated all of my whining and details.

I wasn't one of those happy pregnant people.  I was more like the grouchy, when-is-this-going-to-end pregnant person.  Only to realize that it doesn't end, the symptoms just change.    After the sickies passed, I progressed from the oh-crap-this-is-what-heartburn-is to the what-is-that-pain-in-my-lower-abdomen phase, and finally onto the I-just-want-this-to-end-so-I-can-sleep-again phase (boy, was I clueless:). Some enjoy being pregnant and love how they feel; if you are that person, good for you, really, that is so great, honest, but excuse me, while I find the nearest toilet...again.  Ha!

Miss Madolyn aka Stinky arrived on August 11, 2000.  Although she was a handful as a baby, we love her and are grateful that God blessed our lives with her.  She's still a handful, and although I know I NEVER acted like that, we'll keep her.  Even though it seems like so long ago, I will never forget my friend, ML, laughing and teasing me about the time she told me, Sarah, honey, maybe it's not the flu...

Try it, you just might like it!

O, come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.  (Psalm 95:1 KJV)


I can't tell you when it happened or how, but it did.  Five years ago, maybe, I fell in love with Contemporary Christian Music.  I'm a music lover anyway.  I took piano lessons for a few years when I was young, but I refused to practice, so I gave that up.  Then in fifth grade when you're eligible to start band, and almost everyone gives it a shot, I learned to play the clarinet.  But again, refusing to practice, that didn't last long.  So instead I prefer to listen to music and sing like I'm Mandisa or Carrie Underwood, you know, just belt it out in the privacy of my own car.  Sometimes others are with me, sometimes they're not. 

So I started liking this music that our local Christian radio station played...then I got my kids liking it, then I converted Jay.  Don't get me wrong, I love to pop in my ABBA, a good old Beatles album or something from my highschool era, but on a regular basis, currently I prefer to hear the Christian music.  It is amazing what listening to this music has uncovered for me...like Scripture.  So many song lyrics are from THE book.  They are taken right out of the Bible, word-for-word, depending upon the version you read.  It almost makes me feel like a total idiot when I find a scripture in the Bible and think, hhhm, I didn't realize that was scripture, I just thought it was from that song!

My heart swelled with joy when my kids realized that the end of one of TobyMac's songs was the very scripture on our living room wall.  "Hey, mom, that's the scripture on our wall, isn't it?"  OH YEAH.  Kids are so observant.  They do notice things.  It is good and it is scary.  Good in the sense that, yeah, they saw that scripture and remembered it enough to recognize it on a song later.  Scary in the sense that when you don't think they are watching or listening, they are...loud and clear.  Something to think about if you listen to some real questionable or graphic secular music.

Last year on the way home from town, my little boy (six yrs old at the time) asked me what "conquered the grave" meant because Mighty to Save was playing and the kids and I were singing along.  That discussion led to my little guy telling me, "I want to go to Heaven."  Yee-haw.  All from just singing along with a song in the car driving down the road.  Can you sing Hallelujah, Hal-le-lu-jah!?

Our church now has a praise band.  It is unbelievable to me that we have a praise band at our little country church.  I know many others are amazed too, in favor and against somewhat, although they accept it.  We have some awesome and very talented young people who have stepped up to the plate and shared their talents with us.  We still play traditional hymns in addition to our contemporary music to keep everyone happy.  Fine with me, I don't mind sharing.  There's always room for compromise.  I like some old hymnals, but sometimes I just need a toe-tapping upbeat praise song to sing along with.

Thursday night, our family attended a free Christian music concert in Mattoon with some friends.  When we heard our new favorite group was performing, we were giddy, or at least I was.  Building 429 is awesome.  The words to several of the songs on their new album are just amazing. There are lots of different types of Christian music out there.  If you are curious, let me know and I'll give you a whole list of my favorites.  You should give it a chance, you just might like it!!

The dog did it.

And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.  (John 8:32 NLT)

When I was about five years old, give or take a year, my parents planted a wind break just to the west of our house, one row of Russian Olive trees or bushes (I think that was the name) and two rows of pine trees.  There is a picture somewhere of me standing out there (in my classy late 70's or early 80's attire) watching dad dig a hole for a tree. We watered those trees and trimmed around them and took special care of those trees because we wanted them to grow up good and strong.  They were my dad's pride and joy.

I am guessing when I was about eight, my parents decided to let me try out the lawnmower.  I had begged and begged to learn how to mow.  I had learned how to drive the three-wheeler, and surely if I could drive a three-wheeler, I could drive a four-wheeled lawnmower.  I think it was a Cub Cadet, maybe that was later, I can't remember.  I know it wasn't a Snapper.  My grandparents loved those Snappers and those things cracked me up.  They were so goofy looking.  Anyway...

I don't recall how many times I had actually mowed the yard before the little incident with the tree and the mower occurred.  Oh, I should say we had a lab at the time.  I'm not sure if that was Ozzie, our yellow lab, or if it was the one right before that, Nellie, maybe.   Oh well, it's hard to remember so many pets, you know.  Getting back to my story, I was zipping along with the big mighty mower mowing the grass around the growing, but somewhat powerless wind break, when I accidentally, of course, ran over a poor defenseless little pine tree.  Zip, zip, and it was gone.  When I say little, I mean little as in comparison to a full-size tree.  These had been growing probably at least three years so they were a couple feet tall.  I plowed that thing over, chewed it up and spit it out. 

Oh, crap I thought...I'm dead.  My dad is gonna kill me. I'll never be able to mow again.  I remember thinking I've got to come up with some story, a logical one, something he'll believe, you know, because I love to mow and he finally had trusted me to mow.  So I thought it over and mustered up the courage to tell dad the one and only explanation I could think of...The dog did it.

If you've had a Labrador, you know that a Lab can destroy just about anything...even if it seems unbelievable... well, I guess, maybe not slicing a pine tree.  Trying to convince my father that the dog had laid on the tree, and as a result, had cut, with razor-like perfection, the stem off at the base didn't work.  And of course, I crumbled like a stale cookie but, thankfully, he got over it and let me mow again...many times.

I tried this little story one other time, about 12 months ago.  I love to mow.  I find it peaceful and relaxing.  We planted a wind break several years ago and have continued to plant and replant trees thanks to the animals that graze our pasture...I mean, yard.  I got on our tractor one day last summer and was cruising right along when it happened AGAIN...somehow that little bush-hog just crept over a little too far and, whack, took down a tree.  I didn't say a word until Jay noticed and inquired...and only then did I confess, hey, don't blame me, I guess the dog did it...

The Sole Survivor

And now for the Felines...When we got married we had two kittens, Snoopy & Rowdy.  They were adorable black and white kittens.  Rowdy (aka the Meower) made it through the first year and moved with us to Lawrenceville.  He and Gunner-rooski were best buds.  We lived in town the first year we lived in Lawrenceville, and we are pretty sure our neighbors set some anti-freeze out for our sweet pets because they both developed kidney failure within the same timeframe.  The Meower just wasn't as strong as Gunner-roski and he died shortly after the diagnosis. 

As Gunner-roski needed a friend while we were gone during the day, off we went to the humane society in Vincennes.  (If you continue to follow my blog, you will learn the importance of the visit to the humane society and their allowing us to adopt an animal from them.)  We picked out the most adorable little kitten.  He was in a litter of kittens that had an extra "thumb" on their paw.  We decided to take one without the extra digit as we were not sure if that was a genetic disorder that could lead to further problems down the road.  (Again, kinda funny that we are being sooo particular about this kitten's future...)

Wylie came home with us that day.  He was soooo tiny.  He never made a sound the entire day.  He ended up sleeping right between our pillows that night and thereafter for a very long time.  The second day we had him, still had not heard a peep out of him, when I caught the faintest little "meep" coming from the living room.  It was Wyle and he was meeping...thus his nickname, Meepie!!

The Meepie has been with us for 13 years, 2 months.  (Again, you will figure out the import of the length of time this animal has been in our care over time.)  We have dragged that silly cat through all our moves.  When we would go home on the weekends, we loaded he and Gunner-roski up and they both went back home for the weekend.  He has been pegged Satan because of his very sneaky nature.  He is always lurking around, is fearless and mighty and somewhat of an annoyance to those who do not appreciate his behavior.  I, for one, love that dern cat, but he is, after all, a cat and they know how to push buttons!

For about two years now, we've been saying he was at death's door and then he perks right back up.  After Little Black Sambo's demise in November, Meepie has never been better.  I suppose the only way he could've been happier is if he could've actually had a hand in Sambo's passing...not to say he hadn't tried a time or two.  But he has really livened up.  I suppose we didn't realize how bringing the Little Black Sambo into his already perfect life did indeed ruin it.

And so we have dubbed Wylie, aka the Meepie, aka Satan, our Sole Survivor.  He has outlived everyone in our family, including our children, minus Jay & I.  I'm hoping I didn't just jinx the poor guy...

And that is what we did...

In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths.  (Proverbs 3:6 NKJV)


Jay and I were married in 1995 when I had a few months left of court reporting school.  I completed school and worked as a freelance court reporter in 1996.  Early in 1997, I got a letter in the mail announcing a job opening for the Second Judicial Circuit, State of Illinois, in Lawrence County.  Hhhmm.  Let me digress a moment.  In court reporting school, we were told to not even think about a career in the court system, they were too hard to come by; you better just get it out of your mind.  So I really didn't give it a lot of serious thought...until that day. 

Lawrenceville was only about 45-50 miles away.  I was already driving an average of 90 miles one-way to my freelance work.  This came with a steady salary, benefits, regular hours...Okay, I'll give it a shot, never thinking for a million years that they would hire me.  So I applied and interviewed and they offered me the job.  If I took the job, we would have to move.  Jay and I never had any desire to move away from home.  This is where we wanted to stay forever.  But we developed a plan.  We would take the job, move to Lawrenceville, save our money, come home, build a house and start our family.  And that is what we did. 

We moved to Lawrenceville in February of 1997 and moved home December of 2000.  We had spent the four years we were living in Lawrenceville driving home almost every weekend, sometimes twice a week, staying the whole weekend or part of the weekend.  It was constant.  I decided to ask if I had to live in the circuit.  Nope.  So once our daughter Madolyn was born in August of 2000, we figured out what we were going to do. When our house sold, we would pack up and head home.  And that is what we did.

You know how some people put their house up for sale and it is for sale forever?  Well, we were not one of those people.  I can't remember now how many days our house was listed, but we sold it almost immediately.  It was crazy, and we got a really good deal.  The kind of deal that would help us build our 'dream' home in that spot we picked out when we were 18 years old.  And that is what we did.  Moving home was a whirlwind.  If you only knew our parents and our friend's parents that helped us...Picture for a moment a coffee table with things on it in your living room.  Now picture that on a trailer strapped down.  And that is what we did.

The work on our new home began in the spring of 2001.  After a lot of hard work from family and friends, we moved into the house in September.  It is so funny to look back on things and reflect, realizing how God has prepared you for things.  You know, he really knows what He is doing if we let Him lead our paths.  We never wanted to leave the safety and comfort of our hometown, even if only for a few years, but it seems to have worked out the way it was supposed to.  Jay and I have always tried our best to pray about things and follow what we think God's plan is for our lives, and in this particular instance, that is what we did.

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I heard a few were having trouble posting comments...I think I have fixed the problem.  We'll see.  Maybe they're just trying to get out of posting nice things...We'll see :)

Meet my extended family...

Tell your children about it in the years to come, and let your children tell their children. Pass the story down from generation to generation.  (Joel 1:3 NLT)

My life has always included my church family.  I have attended the same church since about birth, except for a few months when we lived in Lawrenceville (so has Jay, which is pretty handy).  Some of the best memories of my childhood come from church activities.  Our church was always known for their vacation bible school program.  We (Willow Creek) are way out in the middle of nowhere, actually just a couple miles from Moonshine, which is even further out in the middle of nowhere, but we had the best VBS programs.  Back then, they were held during the day because most women didn't work outside the home.  Loads and loads of kids were able to come because a parent or grandparent could give them a ride down to the middle of nowhere.  We had the best cookies around.  It is so funny for me to hear others talk about how awesome Willow Creek's VBS was back in the day.  I didn't realize it at the time because I thought everyone's VBS was like ours.  We just finished a week of VBS at Willow Creek.  I wouldn't say our numbers compare to what they were in the '80s, but I can tell you this, we still have some of the best cookies ever and we had fun. 

August would come and we would have our annual church camping trip at Sherwood Forest north of Martinsville.  Almost the entire congregation, that was able, came out camping.  Some had campers, some had a tent, but the rest of us slept under a very large canvas tent.  Yes, we all slept under this huge tent.  Just set up our beds/cots down each side of the tent wall and that's where we slept that weekend.  It was the best time.  The food was delicious and the fellowship was fun.  I realize now how much hard work it was for the adults, but I have to say it was worth it because I treasure those memories.  Later on, I may expand on some of our church camping stories because there are some good ones!!

Our youth group, when there were enough to have one, had monthly meetings, went on fun outings, attended church camps and convocations.  As I've mentioned in an earlier post, some of the friendships I developed at church camp are still as strong and as precious as ever.  Way back when I was really young (ha), the teenagers in our church would have a Haunted House in the old church basement, complete with brains and eyeballs and all that good stuff.  I'm guessing if we tried that now, we would probably get some hate mail!

Since the mid-1980s our CPW (Cumberland Presbyterian Women) has made and sold nutty bars at our local fair.  I can still picture that very first nutty bar t-shirt I had.  It was bright yellow with a big brown nutty bar on it.  It wasn't the prettiest thing now that I think about it, but I can picture it vividly.  We still make those nutty bars today, every June, and sell them at the fair. 

There's also the church birthday party, the potlucks, the fashion show, Mother/Daughter Banquets, Sweets-for-Sweets Auction, our Easter Sunrise breakfast, our delicious Thanksgiving meal, the Hanging of the Greens, I could go on and on.  The church has started some new traditions that are hopefully creating lasting memories with the children of the church now.  That is our job, isn't it?  To pass things down from one generation to the next.  Sometimes it's necessary for traditions to change or even stop, but I hope some day when my kids reflect on their childhood, they will have great memories of the times they spent with their extended family.

Gunner-rooski

In March of 1995, Jay & I decided to get our first dog.  It had to be a Labrador as that was the only type of dog I had ever had and/or ever thought existed.  We found an ad in the newspaper and drove to Charleston to pick him up.  He was about 12 weeks old when we brought him home.  He was a big fat chocolate lab pup, adorable, of course.  He was spoiled from the beginning.  Jay and I weren't married until August of that year so he lived as a city dog for a few months, and then when we bought our trailer and set it up out in the country, he and Jay moved there, and after August, I joined them.  And this is where it begins...

I was in court reporting school.  Jay was working full time.  So our sweet, Gunner-rooski (as we called him) would be by himself for long periods of time during the day.  If there ever was a loyal dog, it was Gunner.  We could leave him outside for the entire day, and he would be sitting on the step when we got home.  People would tell us that they would drive by and that dog would just be sitting on that step waiting.  As he got a little older, we started letting him stay inside while we were gone.  Yikes.  Have you seen or read Marley & Me?  You can imagine...It was always a surprise to open the door at the end of the day to see what he destroyed while we were gone.  He had his own couch so-to-speak and he would sit/lay on that couch all day.  Once we forgot to leave the miniblinds open to see he could watch the cars drive by.  He chewed the perfect square out of the blind so he could see out.  He would drag only Jay's laundry or shoes out of our bedroom and lay on them or chew on them, according to whatever mood he was in.  When friends would come over and sit on his couch...he would circle the coffee table and couch over and over staring at them until they moved. 

We took Gunner-rooski everywhere.  He was our first child.  And everywhere we went, people treated him like one.  Jay's Grandpa Truman was still alive then and he would babysit Gunner whenever we needed him too.  Truman spoiled him with hot dogs...Gunner liked them heated in the microwave and cut into small pieces on a paper plate.  He learned if he would stand in the kitchen and hit the microwave button with his nose, Grandpa Truman would come in and fix him a hot dog.  One time Truman let Gunner out to use the bathroom, and when Truman went to let him in, he couldn't find him.  Gunner was a block away in the neighbor's swimming pool.  Truman heard screaming kids and headed that direction.

We moved to Lawrenceville in 1997, and of course, Gunner-rooski went with us.  He and I would take walks every morning and every evening.  I could walk to the grocery store, leave him sitting at the front door with his leash just dangling, and he would be right there waiting for me when I came out.  He was truly loyal.  Sometime in late 1999 or early 2000, Gunner developed kidney problems.  We had him at the vet all the time, he was on special dog food, which was very expensive, but he was our baby and that's what you do.  In December of 2000, actually on his 6th birthday, we put our sweet Gunner-rooski to sleep.  He had gotten really bad and we felt it was no longer fair to him to keep him alive.   Right before taking him to the vet, Jay & Gunner played fetch in the empty lot across from our house just like they did every day.  He was happy.  It was a perfect last game.  Good or bad, we compare every dog we've had since then to our precious Gunner...and unfortunately, there have been several.

Yes, I realize it's corny...

"For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh."  (Ephesians 5:31 NKJV)



I met my husband Jay in kindergarten.  I can remember thinking of him as a friend by fourth grade.  In sixth grade, our teacher, Ed Orrell, had us write on a piece of paper who we thought we'd marry and put it in an envelope...yep, I put Jay's name down.  I don't know who he put down, he's probably afraid to tell me!  I think by our freshman year, we decided to try being girlfriend and boyfriend...then decided it was kinda weird....then decided it wasn't.  I think we have been together ever since...yes, I realize it's corny. 

We got married at age 20.  I know people probably assumed I was pregnant as we had only been engaged three months...but why wait?  We didn't have a fancy wedding, we just threw together whatever we could afford.  Thankfully, either we didn't care that we weren't spending ridiculous amounts of money or it wasn't as big of a deal as it is now.  My mother-in-law made my dress (which I dearly loved) and my bridesmaid's dresses.  We made all the flowers.  We did have our invitations printed up professionally and the napkins for the reception, but I think that was just about the only thing we "hired out."  Jay's Uncle Doug took the pictures; afterwards he gave us the rolls of film and we had them developed at Wal-Mart for $36.  My Aunt Mary performed the ceremony and we were the very first wedding in our new church...in fact, instead of bird seed, grass seed was pelted at us as we left the church (that is hard to pick out of your hair) because we needed grass to grow!!!  I remember setting chairs up because we ran out of room in the church pews.  Our presbyterial meetings were going on in other parts of the church, and they came to watch too!

Our reception was at my parent's house and was a very casual event.  I think my dad traded some painting work for the hog and we asked the ladies of our church (the CPW) to serve the food.  Oh, wait, how could I forget one of the most exciting parts?  We had a "Lee Cake" for our wedding cake.  A Lee Cake was and is the most delicious cake on this planet.  (I could write a whole post on that subject alone.)  Our old church tent was set up in the yard and thinking of that alone makes me laugh.  That thing was in shambles, but we threw it up for shade.  Who cares, it was August and we needed shade.  Croquet was set up on the west side of mom and dad's house and I believe there were straw bales for people to sit on.

I have no idea if people had a good time or not, I was busy.  It was a very simple ordeal.   (Seems like weddings have gotten so out of hand.  The focus has been taken off the new life beginning together and redirected at all the fancy stuff.  Maybe that's part of the problem today.)  When I look back at the wedding pictures, we look like children.  I can't believe we were 20 years old.  It's so hard to believe that was 16 years ago.  We were childhood friends, high school sweethearts and Homecoming king and queen.  He's been my best friend most of my life, and yes, I realize it's corny...

Good grief, would you put your hand down?

If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.  (Romans 10:9 NLT)


Several years ago, and I do mean several, I was at church camp down south of Oblong with several other youth from my church and other churches, and in fact, one of my very best friends...we'll call her Susan :)  If I recall correctly, I was in fifth grade and she was in sixth, or we had just finished those grades...anyway we're going along having a great week, making friends, staying up late, checking out the boys, etc, when IT happened.  It was at vespers (I think that is what we called it, or maybe that was later on), which was our nightly church service.  There was an altar call.  My friend, who we're calling Susan, starts crying.

Let me stop for a moment and say this...I'm not a crier, or at least I didn't used to be.  I show little emotion through tears.  I laugh a lot when I really should be crying (just ask my kids, they get so mad when I start laughing at something totally not funny).  I am/was embarrassed by other people showing emotion at times too.  (I know, I sound heartless, I am getting better.)  So here I am, sitting at the end of this pew, about six rows back, next to my friend "Susan" and she's crying...and she wants to go forward.  "With every head bowed and every eye closed, just raise your hand and someone will come to you..." You know the drill (hopefully).  I'm sitting there with my head down and eyes closed of course, whispering NO, would you put your hand down and please stop crying...when all of a sudden, my hand went up.  And the tears came down.

Billy Ray came and talked/prayed with us.  I think we cried the rest of the night.  (At least I know my friend "Susan" did.)  But oh, what a feeling.  I can close my eyes, picture this scene and remember vividly how my hand just went up, on its own.  Of course, I will never forget it.  That was the night that I/we changed our lives forever, for better.  I am so thankful for my friend "Susan" and for Billy Ray and for those that made it possible for kids like us to go to church camp.  I have so many fond memories of church camp...I know sometimes I wasn't there for the right reasons, but the friendships that developed there and still exist are beautiful.

And that is the story of how I became a C!

Down on the farm...

Then God said, “Let the earth produce every sort of animal, each producing offspring of the same kind—livestock, small animals that scurry along the ground, and wild animals.” And that is what happened.  Genesis 1:24

When I was thinking of a name for the blog, I had the whole "F" thing going...so I chose Farm, although really we tease ourselves by calling it a ranch most of the time.  While we would love to be known as a pet sanctuary, in actuality, our little "farm" is better known as a pet cemetery.   We have had lots and lots of animals.  We love animals.  We try very hard to take care of them...but we have become somewhat of a danger zone for living creatures, well, minus the human kind.  It is bizarre.

We are the type of people that choose an animal, research it, scramble up the money to pay for it, drive ridiculous distances to purchase it and bring it home to join the family, for what we hope is a very long time.  We buy new collars, toys, beds, food bowls, etc.  You know, we want that animal to become part of the Wilhoit's, to grow with our children, to go everywhere with us and be well-behaved, to come out of that annoying baby stage and calm down...but we never seem to get that far.

Our local vet absolutely has to love us.  We keep his business booming.  One of these days he's going to build a house and I'm pretty certain he could name a wing of that house after us.  I'm not going to get into any specific details yet, but you will soon understand what I'm talking about.  Let's just say if Bob Barker returned to show business, he might change up his send-off to be something like this, "To control the pet population, have your pets sent to the Wilhoit's..."

I am a C!!

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."  Proverbs 22:6
First thing's first...I am a C, I am a C-H, I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N.  (I do love that fun camp song!)  I was fortunate enough to be raised in a Christian household.  My parents were married in 1970, and for better or worse, they're still together.  I have one Christian (older) brother who lives nearby with his family.  I had two sets of Christian grandparents.  Most of my aunts, uncles, cousins and friends were Christians.  I had a great church family.  I married my best friend who was and is a Christian.  My in-laws are Christians. Basically, I was/am spoiled.  (Are you still humming that song in your head?)

Now that I have grown up (or am trying to) and have become a youth leader and parent, I realize that I truly have NO idea what it must be like to NOT be surrounded by strong Christian influences.  I have taken that for granted my whole life.  Getting a glimpse into the lives of our young people and the family influences they have to live with has totally opened my sheltered eyes. 

So my hope and prayer is that I will be that strong Christian influence in my children's lives, in their friend's lives, in our youth's lives, in my friend's lives, in my co-worker's lives.  Little by little, I'm drawing closer and closer to God.  This doesn't mean that I'm becoming a better behaved Christian, it just means that I'm trying more and more every day.  I'm not sure I'll ever be well-behaved.  I sometimes wonder if I even have it in me, but I am working on it...

Here goes...

Well, here we go.  I'm going to try my hand at this blogging thing.  Several of my "friends" on Facebook have commented about the fact that I should write a book.  Well, as you will soon learn, my thoughts are not very organized.  I live day-by-day and moment-by-moment at times.  To try and put my stories and thoughts into some sort of a book would be disasterous and cause myself a lot of unnecessary stress!!  So maybe a blog is the answer. 

The final straw, so-to-speak, was my prayer with prophetic speaker, Dale Gentry, at Elevate Martinsville 2011.  I've never really been into prophecy and prophetic speakers, to be honest, but a couple dear friends begged me to give it a try.  Boy, was I quite surprised at the prayer.  First of all, he started out by simply knowing my first name and asking me if I had any specific prayer concern.  Hmm, I wish I would've known, he had caught me on the spot.  So I pulled out the only thing I could think of...I run nonstop at times; for my family and myself, do I need to slow down?  (Sidetrack for a moment with me, it is the night of Elevate, I was on the Elevate committee, the fair was to begin the next day and my family is totally absorbed with various fair responsibilities, not to mention I had an appeal due at work four days later that was about 800+ pages.   Basically, I was nearing the end of my rope and the fair hadn't even begun.)

And so he begins his prayer...and in a nutshell, my answer was no.  Wow, could I possibly be hearing this guy right?  Here I am thinking that he's going to tell me, yes, absolutely, you're spread too thin, your family needs you, etc., and he says to me, "You have the heart of a champion. Do not stop. Keep doing what you're doing."  I won't go through his entire prayer, but you get the gist of it.  As he is nearing the end of my "peptalk" prayer he says, "Put your words and thoughts on paper.  People want to hear what you have to say."  So, my friends, if you do not think this is a good idea, blame it on Dale Gentry...