<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:47:32.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brown-eyed Girl</title><subtitle type='html'>I am as you guessed a brown-eyed girl. I am the wife of an amazing man who still loves me which is at times miraculous.  I am the mother of Jacob who has green eyes and as much gentleness any three year old boy could ever have.  I am also the mother of another brown-eyed girl Aislinn.  She is a determined yet loving girl.  While being a wife and mom, I am a girl searching for more, more meaning and purpose.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-115162853095482443</id><published>2006-06-29T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T17:48:50.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summertime</title><content type='html'>I remember the line from Billie Holiday, "Summertime and the living is easy..."  The days when that was true are for the most part behind me.  As a child in West Virginia, I did not realize the blessings of being you and having those summer days free of schedules, to do list, and never ending house work.  Now, I long for those carefree days:  picking berries, digging up crawl-dads, playing with the neighbors in the "hollar".  That for those who are uneducated is the middle of valley between two large hills.  I would get up, eat breakfast, go play armed with a picnic lunch, and come home when my mom yelled at dark or dinner which ever was first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a parent of two small children , I am striving to shelter them from the rat race pace of our life.  I want them to have fond memories of picking berries, getting dirty, and having fun.  I wouldn't mind doing that myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-115162853095482443?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/115162853095482443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=115162853095482443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/115162853095482443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/115162853095482443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2006/06/summertime.html' title='Summertime'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-114402702197428455</id><published>2006-04-02T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T18:17:01.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed</title><content type='html'>Have you ever woken up one morning and realized how unbelievably blessed you are?  If not, go back to sleep.  Are you healthy? Do you have someone who loves you?  Did the sun shine on you today?  I could go on and on with the random questions but won't.  Sometimes, I feel sorry for myself when I am having a bad day and nothing seems to go right.  I look at the grass in someone else's life and think, "Wow if only I had that..."  I am coming to realize that if I did have that, I would want something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a good life not perfect but very good.  I have two beautiful kids, a loving husband, a job that pays the bills, a wonderful group of friends that inspire me and challenge me to do better.  I have a God that believes in me and loves me for reasons beyond my comprehension. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So before I start the "poor me" speech, I need perspective. When I get that I see that life is good.  I know it is a bit played but it is so true&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-114402702197428455?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/114402702197428455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=114402702197428455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/114402702197428455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/114402702197428455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2006/04/blessed.html' title='Blessed'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-113050657416877303</id><published>2005-10-28T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-28T06:36:14.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time flys no matter what</title><content type='html'>It has been close to three months since my last blog and so many things have changed.  Hopefully, during this time I have grown but it is hard to judge that.   Two people who are ever changing are my two children.  They are always growing and learning from their enviorenment and hopefully from me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake started preschool in September and it is so awesome to watch the evolution of working with others and springing from family into other circles of relationship.  He has grown in many ways and I sometimes pine for the days when he was smaller but as he develops into boyhood, my heart embraces the fact that he is growing.  The question inevitably turns inward, Am I Growing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouch!!!!  I sometime pine for the days when I did not have to watch what I said or monitored what I put into my mind.  I do not want to be challenged and grown from immaturity to maturity.  Watching Jake has made me want to grow not only for myself but for others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-113050657416877303?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/113050657416877303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=113050657416877303' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/113050657416877303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/113050657416877303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/10/time-flys-no-matter-what.html' title='Time flys no matter what'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112346270743795646</id><published>2005-08-07T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T17:58:27.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>My sister Mary gave birth Saturday to a healthy girl named Merilee (or some version of that spelling.  The miracle of life is just that a miracle.  We are not in charge and it is not up to us what happens.  The reason I say that is my sister is 19 and is not fully capable of taking care of a baby on her own.  She has mental challenges and is on medication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some would look at this situation and say, "Why would she have this child?"  It is most certainly not the most ideal situation in the world but Merilee is a miracle and as such I am thankful for her little life and pray that I can be actively involved as she grows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that we decide who the hopeless causes are, who does not deserve the second chance, who is unworthy of life.  It is not our place to determine such things.  God is!  And so on Merilee's first day alive, I say thank you God for this miracle and pray He will bless her life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112346270743795646?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112346270743795646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112346270743795646' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112346270743795646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112346270743795646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/08/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112289825251475714</id><published>2005-08-01T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T05:10:52.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship</title><content type='html'>Who do you call when something great happens?&lt;br /&gt;Who do you call when something terrible happens?&lt;br /&gt;Do you have someone you can call?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are questions that I know the answer to for myself but made me think of Friendship.  I am thankful for a handful of friends that I have that I can truly be myself with and share joys and sorrows.  Right after I gave birth to my son, I felt isolated and disconnected.  That was a lonely year.  I remember a friend that said I needed to start investing in friendships.  She was so right.  It was tough at first but I started making a few phone calls, sending a few emails, drinking more than a few cups of coffee at Starbucks, eating breakfast at unbelievably early hours,  and investing in my close relationships.  As I think of my friends, I thank God for blessing me with people who love me, encourage me, correct me, challenge me, pray for me, make me laugh, make me cry, and all the things that come from sharing life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I thought about what a blessing it would be if I started investing in someone who is not necessarily one of my close friends and encouraging them not be isolated and inviting them into a circle of friends and family that I would be less than myself without.  I don't know about anyone else, but I am a relational person.  I thrive in a large group of people.  I enjoy making people laugh and feel connected.  I need to branch out of my comfort zone and begin investing in others so they will have an answer to the questions at the beginning of this post.  What about you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112289825251475714?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112289825251475714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112289825251475714' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112289825251475714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112289825251475714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/08/friendship.html' title='Friendship'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112266961476532221</id><published>2005-07-29T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T13:40:14.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>I am one of those people who enjoy being with the people I love.  I love my husband, kids, and family, friends, and my church.  For the most part, work is not a place I associate with love.  I am a hard worker and enjoy being challenged but to me work is a mean to an end.  I would rather hang out and read Runaway Bunny for the tenth time in a day then work on a spreadsheet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to a time when I will be hopping  a plane with the family to go across the country to Seattle to visit my brother and sister-inlaw.  I am excited to recharge the batteries and hang out.  I am trying to stay focused on getting my "work" done and not get distracted with the thought of relaxation.  Time sure drags when you are looking forward to a specific date and speeds up when you have arrived there.  I must say that is not cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112266961476532221?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112266961476532221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112266961476532221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112266961476532221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112266961476532221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/07/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112238494463955872</id><published>2005-07-26T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T06:35:44.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary</title><content type='html'>It is amazing how time flies when you are having fun.  Eight years ago today, I married an amazingly wonderful man.  ALMOST 21 at the time, I did not realize the  many changes we would experience together.  We have shared vision for God and His purposes for our lives.  We have shared friendship that has sustained us through joys and sorrows.  We have shared passion and love for one another.  We now share two children that we cherish.  As I think of the love that we share and the commitment we made eight years ago, I thank God for blessing me with someone who sees me for who I am and does not desire to change me.  A man who is loving, gentle, and very wise.   He is not perfect but he is perfect for me.  In a day where love of a lifetime has been dilluted to flavor of the week, I am thankful for Keith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary Keith.  Thank you for choosing me so long ago and for being a better husband than my silly girlhood fairytales.  I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112238494463955872?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112238494463955872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112238494463955872' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112238494463955872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112238494463955872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/07/happy-anniversary.html' title='Happy Anniversary'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112216247037210252</id><published>2005-07-23T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T18:05:43.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, my husband and I spent a day free of children to celebrate our 8 year anniversary. It is acutally on Tuesday but we decided to hang out on Friday. Anyway, as we were driving to Boston, I was thinking about what we were doing 8 years before on that very day.  It was hard to pinpoint just where we were or what we were doing but I do remember the anticipation for the "Day".  As I sat thinking of the memories that I share with Keith I realized how blessed I am to live my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I occasionally get psycho.  I know it is hard to believe but it is true.  I look at other who may have more STUFF.  Like homes, money, and it seems more time.  I compare myself to that and sometimes think I don't measure up.  Times like that I am not seeing the big picture.  I have the most amazing life.  I have an amazingly wonderful man that chose me to be his wife.  I have awesome kids that I laugh and cry over every day.  I have a circle of friends that help me stay balanced and focused on the BIGGER picture.  I have STUFF that I forgot all about.  When I remember life before all that it helps me realize I am blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you start to get overwhelmed, or start looking at someone elses STUFF, remember what you actually have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112216247037210252?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112216247037210252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112216247037210252' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112216247037210252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112216247037210252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/07/remember.html' title='Remember'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112156059001172836</id><published>2005-07-16T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T04:45:40.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Labels</title><content type='html'>I was stuck in traffic on this hot and steamy day. To distract myself, I read bumperstickers. It is an interesting thing to do when boredom is creeping. I saw bumperstickers that said &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;W!,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;My other car is a broom, God is my Co-Pilot, Get off my tail, Shut up and Drive!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see my reading list was eclectic at least but it did make me pause. LABELS - What do they say about us and are they correct?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when my Dad bought a cheap beater of a car and it had some inappropriate stickers on the back and we had to scrub them off so no one would think we actually put them there. We wouldn't want someone to think that was our label. Are we Democrat, republican, pro-choice, pro-life, for God, against God, do we like Nascar, or football, what about those Red Sox?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting in traffic, I began to wonder who was driving with certain bumperstickers and why. I know I am a boring person but what can I say I was stuck in traffic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been opposed to bumperstickers because they trash your car but I hate labels. I don't want to be put in a box so I will somewhat mysterious.   I want you to get to know me before you judge me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112156059001172836?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112156059001172836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112156059001172836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112156059001172836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112156059001172836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/07/labels.html' title='Labels'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112126581311574423</id><published>2005-07-13T10:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T07:43:33.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear</title><content type='html'>I have just finished reading Harry Potter.  It was a facinating read and I now can see the phenomenon know as Harry Potter mania.  One part that stands out to mean and that I identify with is the boggarts.  These creatures take the form of what you fear the most.  That image itself made me pause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I fear the most? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you fear the most?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question will make you stop and think and question.  In the book, Professor Lupin dismissed the class before Harry could face his boggart.  The reason was that the professor knew Harry feared the "dementors", creatures that take all your joy away and fill you with cold and emptiness.  The professor acknowledged that what Harry feared most was fear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fear traps us into the illusion of life.  We limit our experiences to those we know and feel comfortable with.  We would NEVER take risks, that is too dangerous.  When we allow fear to rule our lives we cannot experience love, joy, peace, or any of the GOOD things that God intends for us to have.  We life a half-life not one of fullness.  It is true if you take risks you could get hurt but if you don't take risks, you will live an empty life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of my children.  They are monkeys and try the most daring things with little fear.  It is scary as a parent watching them try some of these things but if I shelter them from all pain they will be afraid to try anything.  I want to create an enviorement where they can overcome obstacles and realize that fear can be conquered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interestingly, in Harry Potter the way the students overcame the boggart was to imagine something so funny and say "Ridikulus".  When we look at some of our fears for what they really are we can say"ridikulus" too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112126581311574423?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112126581311574423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112126581311574423' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112126581311574423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112126581311574423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/07/fear.html' title='Fear'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-112023803672194678</id><published>2005-07-01T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T10:13:56.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Focus</title><content type='html'>Do you ever notice how hard it is to stay focused?&lt;br /&gt;I watched my husband playing catch with Jake today.  He said, "Focus, keep your eye on the ball."  It was funny watching Jake trying to do just that but then Aislinn would walk by or something else would distract him.  Ultimately, Keith hit Jake in the face with the ball.  It was not intention but it was painful for Jake and enlightening for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying so hard to stay focused on something.  But that something turns into everything.  I am trying to stay focused on being a great Mom, a great wife, a hard worker, a good friend, an asset to God, and the list starts to go on and on and what started as a good objective is now another thing I am not doing well.  Just like Jake I tried to stay focused but I was focusing on too many things.  SIMPLIFY!!! I will not  allow the distractions of bad things but also the good things to cloud my vision.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a good pitcher is throwing the ball, he cannot allow the crowds (whether they are for him or against him), his teammates, the opposition on the field or in the dugouts, or even the managers to distract him.  His focus is the catcher and the man he is facing.  What is the area that I need to focus on?  Whatever that is, I need to whittle the line of vision down to that and ATTACK.  I want to have something to show for this life that I am in in right now.  I do not want to go in twenty different direction but to harness it all in to ONE direction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-112023803672194678?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/112023803672194678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=112023803672194678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112023803672194678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/112023803672194678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/07/focus.html' title='Focus'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-111992518317781298</id><published>2005-06-27T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T19:19:43.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aislinn's second birthday</title><content type='html'>It is amazing how fast time goes when you are busy.  My brown-eyed daughter Aislinn celebrated  her second birthday today.  She is an unbelievable human being.  I am amazed that God would bless me with her.  She is fiercely independant to the point of hurting herself.  She is so loving that she will make you laugh and cry at the same time.  When I look at her, I do not see myself or Keith but a unique and precious child that is and will continue to make her own path.  I see in her such intensity that at times it scares me but also challenges me to be better.  She is trying at times but I am in love with this girl and want her to know that I am proud of who she is today and will love her for who she will be tomorrow.  Aislinn means dream or vision in Gaelic and on this her second birthday, I pray that Aislinn will dream the dreams that God has and live the vision that He has for her.  Happy Birthday my Princess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-111992518317781298?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/111992518317781298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=111992518317781298' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/111992518317781298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/111992518317781298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/06/aislinns-second-birthday.html' title='Aislinn&apos;s second birthday'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13980745.post-111983196624435046</id><published>2005-06-26T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T17:26:06.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First time for everything</title><content type='html'>I swore that I would not get sucked in to "blogging" but it is like the common cold, everyone succumbs to it in a moment of weakness.  It seems that everyone is doing it and I was feeling a bit left out and wanted to experience it for myself.  My husband is a somewhat faithful blogger and I was jealous of the freedom of expression.  Hopefully, this will be a productive venture for myself and anyone who enters here.  I will probably mention my beautiful, enjoyable, lovely, trying, frustating, and amazing children.  Also, I am married to a man who still loves me after almost eight years of marriage.  He is compassionate, wise, and a man of deep beliefs and convictions.  I love him so much.  I am also on a lifelong quest for God and His dream for my life.  I am hoping to use this blog to record this life journey that I am on.  I invite anyone that wants share in this experience to buckle up, my life is a little crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13980745-111983196624435046?l=weusedtosing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/feeds/111983196624435046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13980745&amp;postID=111983196624435046' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/111983196624435046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13980745/posts/default/111983196624435046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weusedtosing.blogspot.com/2005/06/first-time-for-everything.html' title='First time for everything'/><author><name>brown-eyed girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01529263838090062766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
