tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110618132024-03-19T06:38:26.745-05:00The View From the Front PorchLA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-62156700151351420732017-10-14T14:38:00.004-05:002017-10-14T15:27:06.116-05:00Generational Goals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZAIlYk6K8xUdHoG7IukaNqO6Boa9jyUmiiRhLq8Rjr1yoIpj6MaL8E6n3mQ7bD7jhX2V5yPoMOGXrNSJoDN6aOWCRNw-k_o5-H0PEDXWen9zuKfunYSI_xhohNcXAJ45PS-X0A/s1600/josiah-camper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="2" data-original-height="363" data-original-width="484" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZAIlYk6K8xUdHoG7IukaNqO6Boa9jyUmiiRhLq8Rjr1yoIpj6MaL8E6n3mQ7bD7jhX2V5yPoMOGXrNSJoDN6aOWCRNw-k_o5-H0PEDXWen9zuKfunYSI_xhohNcXAJ45PS-X0A/s320/josiah-camper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I couldn't help but laugh today when my 14 year old came in at lunch time and told me his goals for the rest of his Saturday:<br />
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<li>Paint the outside of his camper.</li>
<li>Try driving the old stick shift pickup again...without hitting a fence this time. (Yup - that happened.)</li>
<li>Make his dad drive him up the road to inspect an 8 acre tract of land for sale - with a seemingly worthless, falling down house on it. His next project, perhaps, after the camper is complete?</li>
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Not the goals of a typical American teenager, perhaps. Yet as I chuckled over it, I couldn't help pondering a bit.</div>
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His Grandpa Kohl passed away a little over a week ago. During all of the reflecting before, during and after the funeral, a common theme occurred. Grandpa Kohl was not a typical American dad/grandpa. Throughout his life, he looked for opportunities. Where others saw a big problem - he wondered if there could be a big opportunity. Opportunities to bless his family, expand his investments, and bless others.</div>
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It's no wonder that Nate caught more than his fair share of his dad's ability to be on the look out for big problems. (Oops, I mean...opportunities.) That camper that our boy is getting ready to paint? Nate drug that thing home about two years ago - coming apart at the seams and a hole in the roof where a tree fell on it. Yet he saw an opportunity that only cost him $200. This summer he passed it onto the boy and said, <i>"Want to turn it into YOUR space - your gaming camper?"</i> You bet he did. He's ripped out ugly carpet, laid new flooring, painted, scrubbed a nasty toilet, etc...all for an opportunity.</div>
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The truck? When Nate's dad could no longer drive, a couple of the sons said, <i>"Who wants this beat up thing?"</i> Nate saw an opportunity to pass onto the boy. Yes - he ran into a fence with it today, but what's one more scratch? He sees potential, and he's learning to drive a manual transmission when most people twice his age have no clue.</div>
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The 8 acre tract of land, with a "house" on it that any appraiser is going to say adds $0 to the value of the property? Remember goal #3 for today? He hasn't seen it yet. But his dad did yesterday - and right away thought it could be an opportunity for his boy to fix up something else. This time, with the idea of re-selling it. Maybe help pay for his college, or help him purchase that house he's determined to buy when he turns 18.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQecVKqjtjfWAKGRwB0SYQW0O1iMgoJC4z2YQVtuKBl_rPZS-MJKuNEGM-MYF4IkINBJhL0d1orPfRjv7qysN3lGSMAkPJ5R-PzZzjmPHi7Ke7XbuyV7RAnlp1U7pHL1E0rf2bDw/s1600/machine+shed+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1071" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQecVKqjtjfWAKGRwB0SYQW0O1iMgoJC4z2YQVtuKBl_rPZS-MJKuNEGM-MYF4IkINBJhL0d1orPfRjv7qysN3lGSMAkPJ5R-PzZzjmPHi7Ke7XbuyV7RAnlp1U7pHL1E0rf2bDw/s200/machine+shed+4.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
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Who knows if anything will come of any of it? Perhaps the boy will just be a gamer for the rest of his life. Yet today, when I heard those goals for his afternoon...yes, I laughed. Then I paused to thank God for this generational value I was witnessing. If he "caught" nothing else from Grandpa Kohl but the fact that huge problems can be great opportunities in the making - he caught a priceless heritage. </div>
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LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-35978398625624171232017-02-11T08:42:00.000-06:002017-02-11T08:54:58.643-06:00Romancin' (It's not what you think...)<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My wanna-be romantic husband decided one evening that he'd like to read some poetry to me. You know, like guys occasionally do in the movies when they're trying to impress a lady. Problem is...we didn't seem to have any romantically inclined poetry books in the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I did find a dusty old copy of James Whitcomb Riley's "Farm Rhymes." You guessed it. Not a romantic, wooing poem to be found within its pages...but we enjoyed it anyway.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The one promising poem, entitled <a href="http://www.poetrycat.com/james-whitcomb-riley/romancin" target="_blank">"Romancin'"</a>, turned out to be my favorite, although it had nothing to do with a boy romancing a girl.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A sixty year old man, apparently raised in the backwoods or the hills judging by his vernacular, reflects on his life:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">"<b><i>You git my idy, do you? - LITTLE tads, you understand -</i></b></span><b><i><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Jest a-wishin' thue and thue you that you on'y wuz a MAN. -</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Yit here I am, this minit, even sixty, to a day,</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">And fergittin' all that's in it, wishm' jest the other way!"</span></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As we struggled to read through all thirteen stanzas (yes, I am from Missouri, but I jest neva use words akin to <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">musin' and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">medder.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The lines that grabbed me were these:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">"Tho' I still kin see the trouble o' the PRESUNT, I kin see -</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Kindo' like my sight wuz double-all the things that UST to be;"</span></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Such a wonderful way to explain this unique view of life I've now obtained in middle-age. Forget the typical mid-life troubles of near or far sightedness. What's truly going on is this: I'm double-sighted.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcveGh9S4SGMlS4HTsUYyrspH0yD_R-LEsIapUnawnKbYpABxN7AYCmjChPqLPG8BS5ePrsuqwU1N-cox7i0Fn2FZLjLflvdy1dX2Pvyc6apw4lGJEW9-zs0WNoPERNrXwRtEGLA/s1600/girls+flowers+1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcveGh9S4SGMlS4HTsUYyrspH0yD_R-LEsIapUnawnKbYpABxN7AYCmjChPqLPG8BS5ePrsuqwU1N-cox7i0Fn2FZLjLflvdy1dX2Pvyc6apw4lGJEW9-zs0WNoPERNrXwRtEGLA/s320/girls+flowers+1997.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">Yes, I'm seeing today. 2017 is here, clear and sharply focused. I'm in my fifties and the parent of adult children. I'm even a grandmother! Yet my past is there, in plain sight almost daily. Rooms empty, yet I still see them full of giggles and youthful energy. A creek gurgles, void of visible life, but my mind's eye sees little feet splashing in delight. Wildflowers adorn the forest floor, undisturbed. Yet I see small hands gathering bouquets, enough to fill a dozen vases. Books on shelves, closed and dusty - yet I picture eager fingers turning pages as wondering eyes soak up the adventures found within.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">No, I'm not living in the past; wishing for days gone by. I'm enjoying the present and attempting to live each day to the fullest, enjoying who, what, and where God has brought me to at this stage, and age. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">Yet the past is always beckoning, right there in plain sight. <b><i>Romancin'</i></b> me and making me realize that this life is a mixed up, lovely jumble of so many events, places, and people that have entangled together to make my life what it is today. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">So pardon me on occasion if my gaze wanders. Know that I'm simply pondering this amazing view.</span></span><br />
<b><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "tahoma" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"...I climb the fence, and set</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "tahoma" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Jest a-thinkin' here, i gravy' tel my eyes is wringin'-wet!"</span></i></b>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-39627280561302906722016-06-10T19:19:00.003-05:002016-06-10T19:19:40.819-05:00These Shoes Were Made for Reassurance<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God moves in mysterious ways. A bit of a cliche, but a fact that I recognize more and more as I advance along through this thing called life.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Those throat-tightening moments when someone you love walks away, receives a dreaded diagnosis or is involved in a life-altering accident. You pray. Beg God to move, to restore, to heal. PLEAD. Cry tears of desperation. Pray more and more...and yet God doesn’t seem to budge. At least, not in the way you want Him to.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then there are other times; times when a teeny-tiny detail thing happens. Something so minute and unimportant that you don’t even think to pray about it. Like a pair of shoes.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She wanted a pair of sneakers. Yet their use for traipsing around the inner city of San Francisco, loving on homeless people, didn’t seem to justify the extravagance of spending money on a new pair. When a sibling invited her to come along to some neighborhood garage sales one morning, she went, on the slim chance that she might find a pair of sneakers she liked.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Not only did she find them. They were at the very first garage sale. Just her size. In one of her favorite colors. The previous owner had already christened them, who knows how many years before, with these words from a worship song written on the side of the sole:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><b>“I wanna be your hands, I wanna be your feet. I’ll go where you send me!”</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And all of that for the bargain price of one buck.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Wow. When God moves - He really does it up right. Yet I can’t help wondering why. Why remain quiet and unmoving at times - times when we’re desperately looking for Him to move? Other times when we least expect it, BOOM, He shows up. I’ll never figure it out.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That’s what makes God...God. His ways higher than our ways and all that stuff. I just have to keep trusting that in those lowest moments, when it FEELS like He’s not budging an inch to help out...He has a different plan that I don’t understand. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Therefore, what is there to do but press on? Expecting that eventually He'll show up with showers of blessings...or shoes, as the case may be.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #021eaa; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>1</i></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i> “Come, let us return to the LORD;</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>for he has torn us, that he may heal us;</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #021eaa; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>2 </i></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>After two days he will revive us;</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>on the third day he will raise us up,</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>that we may live before him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #021eaa; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>3 </i></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD;</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>his going out is sure as the dawn;</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>he will come to us as the showers,</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>as the spring rains that water the earth.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Hosea 6:1-3</span></div>
LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-60955656516834054082016-01-11T08:26:00.000-06:002016-01-11T08:35:34.250-06:002016 - Living and Learning<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz2cFUZUysGsJhxAVAni32E55Lv__PMxZ9R3TmAf4sIrESoDdX8TTujNUmPiZr4WQd6nbRZCwgly-DuEFZe1-al65JzW8bQlAoRyRjTy0Eu10Qz8RoaPklZBeGrfxa8EL7r3H-A/s1600/84+nate+and+I+lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz2cFUZUysGsJhxAVAni32E55Lv__PMxZ9R3TmAf4sIrESoDdX8TTujNUmPiZr4WQd6nbRZCwgly-DuEFZe1-al65JzW8bQlAoRyRjTy0Eu10Qz8RoaPklZBeGrfxa8EL7r3H-A/s200/84+nate+and+I+lake.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Wasn't this just yesterday?</i></td></tr>
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As always, a new year causes reflection. If truth be told, this mid-life thing brings about reflection almost weekly. Sometimes daily. The older I get, I find myself finally "getting" it. Grasping realities that at a younger age, I chose not to think about or didn't understand. Realities incomprehensible until experienced. Realities so universal that some have become cliches, mantras or even forms of religion. For instance:</div>
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<li><b>Time flies when you're having fun.</b> Actually - it just flies. Perhaps a bit faster when fun is involved. I've now passed the 50 year mark. That means, in a best case scenario, my life is half over. Worst case, as Miracle Max put it, I might be "mostly dead." Yet this is where people sometimes forget the obvious. I. am. not. dead. yet! A blunt reality that I remind myself of when I'm feeling troubled by new wrinkles and sags, children growing up and leaving home, and life passing by too quickly. All of it is simply a reminder that I am still here, so why not make the most of it? </li>
<li><b>The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.</b> Yes it is - and that's okay, because grass is an "on the surface" commodity. Just under that green surface is soil - dirty, grimy, decaying filth. The longer I live, the more I'm reminded that NO one's life is perfect, no matter how manicured and green it may look. Scratch the surface and most people have struggles and problems that would cause us to plant our feet firmly on our own side of the fence. That reality slapped me in the face several weeks ago, while attending a holiday party. This family's home was a life-size dollhouse! Lovely, historical and tastefully furnished with beautiful antiques. Their children were well-mannered, adorable and very social. The kitchen was incredible - spacious and perfectly set up for entertaining. On and on I could go...I found myself comparing and feeling woefully parched on my side of the fence. And then someone asked about a framed print of a young girl - not one of the happy children present in the home. The father matter-of-factly stated that she was his little girl from his first marriage...who died in an accident when she was seven years old...a week before her mother died of cancer. And then a few years later, his second wife died of cancer. OUCH. Can I just stay right over here on my side of the fence and hang my head in shame for those brief feelings of green envy?</li>
<li><b>Life is this incredible blending of good and bad. </b>No, this isn't a cliche, but definitely a theme that people have turned into a belief system. It's the old black and white "yin yang" symbol; or the theme of a new TV series like "Shades of Blue," where cops aren't BAD, but they're not really GOOD, either. Apparently a mixture of good and bad creates balance and makes everything whole and complete. No - I don't buy into that religion, but life keeps teaching me that good things and bad things do work together to make us who we are. I can shake my fists at God or others when "bad" occurs, allowing anger and bitterness to control my life...or I can mourn the loss, learn and move on. Never forgetting, but perhaps forgiving and relishing a bit more freely as I move forward. Let that "badness" create a wiser person. I absolutely love the Disney Pixar movie that came out in June of 2015, <i>Inside Out</i>. Such a profound illustration of how sadness is bound to happen...but through it some of life's deepest joys can be found. Ironically, the same month that <i><a href="http://coyotehill.org/blog/2015/07/09/inside-out-how-we-help-our-children-with-emotions/" target="_blank">Inside Out</a></i> hit theaters, our family experienced a birth and a death within two weeks time. The sadness was heart-breaking; saying the final good-bye and giving that last hug tore me to pieces. Yet two weeks later...I found myself meeting my very first grandchild! Words aren't adequate to describe the mixture and swell of emotions. Suffice it to say, there was a richness to it that would not have been there without past sorrows and loss. I know I cherished the moment more fully, feeling deep within my being that life is indeed precious and fragile. A gift to be treasured. </li>
<li><b>It's not about me.</b> Wise words, extremely true...yet after all these years I STILL have to remind myself of it almost daily. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>"<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">Do nothing out of rivalry or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves." --Philippians 2:3</span></i></span> </li>
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That's my pep talk to myself for another year. Sadness, envy, selfishness and fears can just loosen their grip as I try to stroll my way into 2016 with a bit more radiance.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">"I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed." --</span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Psalm 34:4-5 </span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-91430438861207387902015-06-21T07:08:00.000-05:002015-06-21T15:36:41.706-05:00Celebrating a Life - Jennifer Cox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqTSpS4mYTk2KPKOEjpEp31WL2qiBjxc0ygspNJDApO_9ocHtyesBLvGoSA1wMcatD4GER0yx1I_tmDZrd0gIYvqPej5AheMXY2CePHSSiaH6udL7UeHRIuYX4dAKgtbywd9ehw/s1600/smile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqTSpS4mYTk2KPKOEjpEp31WL2qiBjxc0ygspNJDApO_9ocHtyesBLvGoSA1wMcatD4GER0yx1I_tmDZrd0gIYvqPej5AheMXY2CePHSSiaH6udL7UeHRIuYX4dAKgtbywd9ehw/s320/smile.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>When my husband, Nate, was asked to do a portion of our sister-in-law's funeral service, his biggest concern was that he wouldn't be able to sufficiently honor her. How, with mere words, can you pay tribute to such a life? He wanted to get it right - very right - and thus he actually typed out the majority of the message beforehand. (If you know him - you know that's rare.) I wanted to keep it for future reference, as many agreed that he did indeed get it right:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">June 20, 2015</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%2023" target="_blank">Psalm 23</a> - A shepherd who gave us a place of rest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We are here to celebrate the memory of Jennifer Lea Riley Cox. How do we honor a life so well lived? How do we remember her in a way that will make us better and not bitter? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">People have often reflected in these days how Jennifer did not let cancer beat her. She beat cancer...she won. Now that may or may not be your perspective. It all depends on how you score the match. How do you define a winner? In a world of fallen heroes - a perfect champion meets what objectives in your mind? What does it take to make a real star in the ring?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A happy letter I like to read again and again has these rules for scoring, <i>"Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe, as you hold out the word of life - in order that on the day of Christ (and I now paraphrase) Jennifer did not run or labor for nothing. But even if her life was poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith, she is glad and rejoices with all of you. So, you too should be glad and rejoice with her."</i> Philippians 2:14-17 <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nate's International Version</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If we keep score by looking at who fell to arguing, "Why me?!" then Jennifer obviously won. Cancer lost.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cancer is a disease that takes more and more; it is a selfish monster that pushes its way in to grab anything valuable it can and it will not let go. Jennifer fought back to keep life and she did not ask, "Why me?" She did not complain. She WON.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But will you share in her victory? Did she pour out her life for nothing? Was it in vain? How will you honor her memory?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you become selfish - arguing and complaining - questioning why you would lose something so precious - someone you feel you cannot go on without...and if you complain, if you insist on arguing and asking, "Why?"...if you hold onto bitterness and are not able to let go - cancer wins. Death wins.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That, in my mind, does not honor or represent what the LIFE of Jennifer has taught us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What did Jennifer teach you? Reflect with me, as Lori and I did with her only two weeks ago as we sat with her on her living room couch. We were reminiscing and telling our precious sister-in-law, sister-in-love, what she meant to us and taught us. What she had modeled for us in the way that she lived and the philosophy of life she embraced. For me, all of that is best summed up by the word CELEBRATE.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, in preparation to share this day, I did some searching to see what the Word of God had to say about celebration. I found a nice passage in the back of the Book of Esther (Esther 9:22) that helps shape my memories of what Jennifer taught. You may know that Esther was a queen in her time, but not in her own land. She won a beauty contest - must have been an extremely attractive young lady, perhaps with a "1,000 watt smile" like Jennifer's. The memory of Esther, how she poured out her life on behalf of her people, is still celebrated by the Jews on a holiday called Purim. So, here is what that celebration includes:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Giving gifts to the poor.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Observing the days as days of feasting, by giving presents of food.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Sorrows being turned to joy.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>A reviewing of the record of victory over a ruthless enemy.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I hope in my brief memories of Jennifer, you will identify your own memories that convince you of the things she taught us by the way she lived her life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Giving gifts to the poor</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When Jennifer married into the Cox family, she immediately became Aunt to my four daughters, and in Jennifer's family, aunts and uncles gave gifts. This was a value modeled by the Riley/Clark families, and thus, within only months of becoming their aunt, she wanted to bless my little girls with a dream vacation. Jennifer had always wished upon a star - and that lovable little mouse had a place in her dreams. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When Jennifer's aunt found out that Walt Disney World's job interviews are only five minutes long, as they know most of their employees will only have that much time or less to interact with guests, she knew Jennifer and her smile could get the job. She did, and </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">landing that job at Disney Resorts gave her a way to pass on dreams to other little girls. Didn't she help you dream?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A family Florida vacation would have been way out of the question for this part-time preacher living on a tight budget - but they said just get here, and we'll put you up and get you in the park. And they did. TWICE! Saving up those employee passes and doing all she could to pass off my youngest ones as even younger ones...she got us ALL into Disney World for free. Wow! My mother-in-law remembers such an overwhelming feeling as we were all on the boat back after a long day at the park - just having her entire family there in that place. Jennifer excelled at always giving gifts - wonderful gifts. What can we learn from her?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Observing the days as days of feasting, giving presents of food</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Part of being a guest in David and Jennifer's home was always enjoying presents of food - often new foods for us. I'll never forget our first trip to their apartment in Orlando. They wanted to feed us a shrimp feast, but, as a young Baptist preacher I was a bit apprehensive when I saw the case of beer on the kitchen cabinet. David explained to me that all of the alcohol would cook out, so serving beer boiled shrimp to my girls would not get them intoxicated. That meal is now one of our family's favorite celebration meals. Things like pico de gallo (the real deal, like they make it in Texas) smoked salmon with hot pepper jelly, and so many others. Giving gifts of delicious food and feasts just came naturally for her. Did Jennifer teach you anything along those lines?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Sorrows turned to JOY</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It has been helpful for me to replace the word "enemy" with the word "cancer" as I've studied the scriptures these past few weeks. Cancer has long done battle with us, trying to take us down into sorrow. M.D. Anderson - Houston's battleground - was familiar to us long before Jennifer's diagnosis in 2011. My daughter's best friend, the daughter of my dear friend and cousin, was battling this enemy at far too young of an age, and Houston had become quite familiar to them. David and Jennifer's home, with the swimming pool out back, served as a lovely haven when we all converged there to visit and support our cousin's family. Celebrating their twins 16th birthday poolside, with an ice cream cake and balloons, provided a place of joy for a family who's memories of Houston are very sorrowful. Jennifer helped provide celebration in the midst of sorrow. And long before - probably right after we had just enjoyed our first beer boiled shrimp feast at David and Jennifer's - we got the phone call about our friend Cathy McDaniel's death following her own battle with cancer. The enemy was present long ago, trying to overwhelm with sorrow. We didn't realize then how Jennifer was already doing battle against it, with her celebrations and joy. Did Jennifer help YOU turn some sorrow and struggle into joy?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Reviewing the record of victory over a ruthless enemy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxpoL5fG2LFiANO8zZ-fJvc5FkFJTh27lETSxN2lovzTLgBUuKLEr10CUlR-0Ig-zhuTj5m5SOONro_KsbACIv-Cu0ddB9Y52LEO80hTOFRGSeZMD-gAudyFGI3qoGNL4zVjmeA/s1600/family-2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxpoL5fG2LFiANO8zZ-fJvc5FkFJTh27lETSxN2lovzTLgBUuKLEr10CUlR-0Ig-zhuTj5m5SOONro_KsbACIv-Cu0ddB9Y52LEO80hTOFRGSeZMD-gAudyFGI3qoGNL4zVjmeA/s1600/family-2014.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">photo by Erin Carlyle</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We study battles for centuries later, long after the final shots and victory cry. That is, if we want to be good soldiers and good generals, we do. That's how we learn. <b>This room is full of the records of battle that Jennifer fought. The pictures tell it all. Fight with a smile. Never loose hope. Go somewhere that you've only dreamed of. Always have family around you. Enjoy God's creation - ride a dolphin and feel the rush of life. Embrace EVERYONE you meet and leave no strangers.</b> Jennifer taught us that if you have just five minutes, it's enough time to make a friend. Immerse yourself in those friendships. Embrace life and the people in your life - that would be the lesson Jennifer taught me, and so many others, so very well. Did you learn anything by observing her battle?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Finally, those of us who watched her battle the enemy to the end knew that strength that Jennifer fought with so very well did not only come from within her. Jennifer had known God before, but the enemy caused her to know God better. His strength became her strength in the battle. I saw Jennifer's faith grow over these past years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As we followed Jennifer's updates on Facebook and CaringBridge, we often heard her issue a call to prayer. Just like Esther asked her people to pray before laying her life on the line before her enemy, Jennifer asked us to pray. And we sensed that her requests for prayer were genuine and we saw that through those prayers, Jennifer's strength increased. That's the essence of how faith grows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I want to close with a passage from Ephesians that I first saw as our prayers for Jennifer, but later came to see this as her prayer for us. "</span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; letter-spacing: 0px;">For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all God’s people, I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come."</i><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> Ephesians 1:15-21</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-84867330051969455952015-05-18T07:45:00.002-05:002015-05-18T10:41:41.867-05:00Evident Within Them<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="text Rom-1-19" id="en-NASB-27950" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;">"because that which is known about God is evident</span><span class="text Rom-1-19" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 28.799999237060547px;">within them; for God made it evident to them.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;"> </span><span class="text Rom-1-20" id="en-NASB-27951" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;">For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse." Romans 1:19-20</span></span></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT1GWJrZmtlmI0BumcjZfsnDIKuTSaHI5Bbq4eZCym9GvDXHiqNO8pcFF8LXLBR1WjGreuI13XalyXRiiDx8hMBaU0_Wd-hAzgFI_VRCr9bRLvLB0KOQr6O4h92q7IZAZq4SnItg/s1600/blog+or+cover+WY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT1GWJrZmtlmI0BumcjZfsnDIKuTSaHI5Bbq4eZCym9GvDXHiqNO8pcFF8LXLBR1WjGreuI13XalyXRiiDx8hMBaU0_Wd-hAzgFI_VRCr9bRLvLB0KOQr6O4h92q7IZAZq4SnItg/s400/blog+or+cover+WY.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grand Tetons, Wyoming, August 2005</td></tr>
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<span class="text Rom-1-20" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'m a nature lover, through and through. Have been ever since I can remember. Those flowers at grandma's house, the willow tree with branches low enough for the most timid of preschoolers to ascend, the babbling creek with such hidden treasures as crawdads and snails, and that first glimpse of the Rockies as a third grader. Each and every minuscule or majestic detail of nature called out to me. I didn't become well-acquainted with the Bible or Christianity until my mid-teens. Yet I had always known a Creator must exist. I never disagreed when the grade school texts gave credit to evolution, but I never bought it.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text Rom-1-20" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text Rom-1-20" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;">I didn't realize until years later that my heart-felt, childlike faith in a Creator was God Himself, tugging at my inmost being and calling out to me. When I first stumbled upon the above verses in Romans many years ago, the proverbial light bulb went off. YES - that was it! God had ever-so-gently been making Himself evident to me through His magnificent creation from the early days of my existence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Rom-1-20" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 28.799999237060547px;">While my child-like faith developed into a deeply personal relationship with my Savior and Creator, countless others' throughout history have waned. Those early inklings of belief in the invisible attributes of God are often replaced with a respect and awe of "Mother Earth." Isn't that like feeling a deep respect and appreciation of the </span>Canon in D, without acknowledging Pachelbel? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNXrlnVJLpbIE30HlXIm8kvln2GoBPgCAtTQbLG4_rJDouoYcqUS1IQQIt6ohRB0Uem2bSGT_JOrsnPJUN3C-3jGiYzmTTKKu3tT-vUppyqqak0T8-dIibl9cayq9PQZBTuMe5g/s1600/glasgow+overlook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNXrlnVJLpbIE30HlXIm8kvln2GoBPgCAtTQbLG4_rJDouoYcqUS1IQQIt6ohRB0Uem2bSGT_JOrsnPJUN3C-3jGiYzmTTKKu3tT-vUppyqqak0T8-dIibl9cayq9PQZBTuMe5g/s200/glasgow+overlook.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday, I stood upon an overlook that gives a wonderful view of the Missouri River and bridge at Glasgow. My father drew and designed the plans for that small shelter and overlook many years ago. Is his name engraved upon it? No. Did the two bikers sharing a beer under the shelter yesterday feel the same connection with the designer that I did? Of course not - they had no idea who he was. Yet I suspect they appreciated the view, the shade from the sun, and a relaxing place to enjoy the cool breeze. Their lack of knowledge of the designer in no way lessened the fact that a designer existed. I stood there, enjoying the same view and fresh breeze...yet feeling more deeply connected and blessed for having known the one who dreamed up the idea of such a place. I got it - the entire, fully connected experience...so much richer than their fleeting, superficial moment.</span><br />
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When an outdoor enthusiast/author like Jeff Johnson says, <i><span style="color: #666666;">"</span></i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">I’m drawn to the open country. It's where everything is clear, where the world makes the most sense. When I put myself out there I always return with something new. A friend once told me the best journeys answer questions that in the beginning you didn't even think to ask,”</span><span style="color: grey;"> </span></i></span>I can't help thinking he's ALMOST got it, he's almost found The Best Answer ever, without even knowing a question existed.</span><br />
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So many people have a deep love and respect for all that nature entails. I loved the new "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" movie, because of the way it clearly depicts that deep yearning within us for something more than just an 8 to 5 job; something more than this concrete, predictable life of sidewalks and office buildings. We yearn for relationships with other people and time to explore and appreciate fluid moments in nature, like the snow leopard's rare and momentary appearance. <b><span style="color: #999999;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">"</span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;"><span style="color: #999999;"><i>Beautiful things don't ask for attention."</i></span></span></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">No, they don't; nor does He. One wise woman put it this way, many years ago, "God is a perfect gentleman." He doesn't force Himself into our lives. You will find no brass plaque at the base of the Himalayas, declaring, "The God of creation formed this!" Yet God's love and beauty surround us each and every day if we take the time to notice and search - to see Him standing there, like the Gentleman that He is, quietly holding the door open for us.</span></span><br />
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LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-9402723994084896482014-10-04T17:52:00.002-05:002020-04-07T10:11:27.381-05:00Fairness, Forgiveness...and Pineapples<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">If we forgive a terrible wrong done to us, does that mean we have to like that person and continue our relationship as if nothing ever happened? Is it fair that they receive the benefits of eternity in heaven, if they've been downright nasty most of their life and then late in life accept a Savior who's willing to forgive them and give them eternal life? You mean they'll actually get a mansion - or a room - or whatever it might be - that's just as good as Billy Graham's or Jim Elliot's?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Those are just a sampling of various questions I've heard over the past month, and it's made me ponder. I've come away from it</span> even more convinced in a truth I've held to for a long time now... </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I FIRMLY believe that how we live each and every day is being rewarded NOW. Sure - I get to go to heaven someday, all because of Jesus dying for our sins. None of us are good enough. Perhaps some people will end up getting a mansion and others an eco-friendly tiny house - or, perhaps we'll all get the exact same kind of apartment - it really doesn't matter that much. It shouldn't bother me that a former Gestapo gas chamber guard turned Christian ends up getting the rewards of heaven just like I will.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "tahoma" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The rewards of living a faithful, Christian life - including forgiving those who've wronged us - come back to bless us right here and right now. Those people you know - who claim to be Christian but hypocritically treat others badly; lying and slandering and doing things we don't think Christians should do - THEY are the ones missing out. They are missing the blessing of having great relationships with others, because of the way they mistreat people. They are missing the blessing of the joy that's found in doing the best they can - a clear conscience that comes from knowing they've been truthful and treated others with respect. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I really, really feel like God blesses us with an inner joy, peace and happiness right here and now that can truly and only be found when we're doing the best we can at living the way He wants us to live. Those "Christians" (and only God knows if they truly are Christians) who don't - I'm 99% sure they are not filled with joy, contentment and peace; and deep down they aren't very happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I may never be rich with money or possessions - I may not get a gold mansion in heaven - but I am extremely blessed and "rich" right now, knowing that God's ways are always best; knowing that there are blessings each and every day waiting for me if I choose to live in a way that pleases Him. For the most part, those blessings involve relationships with people. They are the "treasures in heaven" (Matt. 6:19-21) that I'm laying up. I can't take a nice car with me - I can't take my big house with me - but I can take people with me. They are ALWAYS worth investing in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">My daughter shared with me an awesome story about a missionary who was continually wronged by the people he was trying to minister to, and how he eventually came to genuinely love and forgive them anyway. It's called "The Pineapple Story":</span></div>
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<a href="https://embassymedia.com/media/session-01-pineapple-story" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer;" target="_blank">The Pineapple Story, by Otto Koning</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It's almost an hour long - but <i>sooo</i> worth the time it takes. It's full of truth...the basic truth that people are more important than things... yet it's also very honest and funny. ("I could be a real good missionary if it weren't for you people!!!" :-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">If you've watched "The God's Not Dead" movie, you might have looked at that atheist professor who is so mean and hateful towards God and towards Christians - watched him come to know Jesus right before he dies and thought, "That's not fair - he gets to go to heaven even though he lived so wrongly!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">But who really got cheated there? <b>He</b> did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">He got cheated out of peace; out of wonderful, trusting and loving relationships; out of true happiness; out of so many blessings that result from living life here and now in a way that pleases God. Yup - he'll go to heaven just like you or I will; after all, it's only because of Jesus' sacrifice that ANY of us get to go. But will he have the joy of hearing God say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant" ? (Matt. 25:21) Did he ever experience true joy and peace while on this earth? That is worth SO very much - and it's something that most people don't experience unless they're sold out to God - like the young college guy in the movie. Yes - he suffered ridicule and lost his girlfriend because he did what he thought God wanted him to...but he also enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing a classmate turn his life over to Christ, made a new friend; and probably saved himself a lifetime of being married to a self-centered woman that wasn't very good for him anyway. We get so many blessings like that when we make the effort to live the way God wants us to - blessings that can't be measured in values of a gold house; but blessings just the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">AND...we really and truly don't know what heaven will be like...the Bible doesn't tell us a lot. I've heard people say that God purposely didn't give us many details about heaven, because it's so incredible that if we knew more about it, we'd probably all be committing suicide so we could get there sooner! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Who knows what God might have planned for us? The end of that Matthew 25:21 verse says, "</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "tahoma" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">" Who knows what God might entrust us with in heaven, because we've chosen to be faithful to Him in big and little things while we were here on earth???! I'm pretty sure it's going to be awesome, and full of joy - and we won't even notice if forgiven sinners who lived terribly most of their lives share it alongside us. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "tahoma" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Regardless - I know I've got a "rich" life right here and now, by following God's ways. Does it suck that someone who's treated me terribly seems to get by with it and suffer no visible consequences? Sure...but it's their loss, not mine. </span></span></div>
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LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-84165203645345129502014-09-13T08:03:00.002-05:002016-06-11T06:30:57.798-05:00Microscope or Mirror?<span class="text Prov-16-24" id="en-NIV-16865" style="background-color: white; color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-style: italic;">Gracious words are a honeycomb,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #45818e; font-style: italic;"><span class="indent-1-breaks"></span></span><span class="text Prov-16-24"><span style="color: #45818e; font-style: italic;">sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">~Prov. 16:24 </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">We are watching an eye-opening video series at church entitled "Resolving Everyday Conflict," by <a href="http://www.peacemaker.net/site/c.aqKFLTOBIpH/b.6178717/k.B3C2/Resolving_Everyday_Conflict_Using_in_the_Workplace_Setting.htm" target="_blank">PeaceMaker Ministries</a>. It's been very good so far, but last night's session was one of the best.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">I've heard and read the Matt. 7:3-5 "get the log out of your eye before trying to take the speck out of your brother's eye" parable preached and taught many times. Yet </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">it's always in the context of examining ourselves before we start judging other's sin.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> Hearing someone directly apply that teaching to a one on one argument was new for me. </span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">This approach makes so much sense for derailing a conflict! Jesus' teaching promotes the need to examine ME - my own shortcomings and faults, even in the midst of an argument where I might feel as if I am not the least bit at fault. That's exactly the time when I want to lash out and blame the other person...but we all know how that ends. If instead I could look at my own "log" - my share of the problem that I've brought into this argument - then the inevitable train wreck that's bound to happen once the blame game begins could often be prevented.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">"But it IS her fault...she (insert her speck that has totally frustrated you)<insert and="" here="" hurt="" insult="">!" I want to defend myself. I want to be right. I want to point the finger and examine their "speck" with a microscope. Yet, Jesus says I should pull out a mirror instead, and deal with my own part in the disagreement.</insert></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">Even if I am only 2% to blame, and they're 98% to blame, I still need to start with my mirror and forget about pulling out the microscope. Well...I might feel like those are the percentages, especially in the midst of my anger, but more often than not I'm a lot more to blame than I want to think. Whatever the percentages - no matter how little or much I am at fault, if I could simply say, "You know what? I shouldn't have done (said) that and I'm sorry." Wouldn't that go a LONG way towards defusing the upcoming explosion? Good-bye, log! </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">And guess what? That humble, self-examing response almost always results in the other person pulling out their own mirror and saying, "Oh...well, I guess I shouldn't have (insert their speck.)<insert dying="" out="" own="" point="" speck="" that="" their="" them.="" to="" were="" you="">" You've just doused a fire by admitting your own fault, your own "log," in the matter. Even if they don't fess up and apologize for their part in it, their "speck" - at least you've done your part and probably halted the escalating tension, pain and anger that was about to ensue.</insert></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">Good-bye, log. Good-bye, heated argument. And perhaps, good-bye speck. That's what you were going for, anyway - except now you've done it in a much less damaging way.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Prov-16-24">Now if I could just remember all of that the next time Nate steps into my kitchen and tries to do things his way...I mean, errr...tries to help. "I'm sorry dear that I like to have one realm in my life where I am totally and unquestionably in charge." Yup...that's a big log for me. ;-)</span></span></span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-50711718313317883112014-06-24T13:03:00.004-05:002017-02-27T10:33:04.278-06:00Dads and Daughters<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can't TELL you how much <a href="http://jenwilkin.blogspot.com/2014/06/on-daughters-and-dating-how-to.html?utm_source=True+Woman+Blog+Recipients&utm_campaign=8e7149e12a-RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_TW&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_9599ddf024-8e7149e12a-82025365&m=1" target="_blank">this article</a> made me want to shout, "YES!"<br /><br /> Every ounce of it has been our philosophy, our strategy, our life. Did we develop that strategy intentionally? I'm not sure. In some ways - it just kind of happened. <br /><br /> It happens over time, in small decisions and choices you make along the way. Like, years ago, when we heard another dad say, "There's this boy showing an interest in my girl - so I've been pumping iron so I can intimidate him," and you stop to ponder, "Wait - is that the approach we want to take with our girls?"<br /><br /> Sadly, that particular father left his family a few short years after he made that statement. I guess pumping iron didn't make him strong enough to hold his family together, and so I'm glad it hasn't been my husband's parenting approach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Instead, Nate leans much more towards the wisdom that Jen Wilkin shares in the above article:</span> <i>Instead of intimidating all your daughter’s potential suitors, raise a daughter who intimidates them just fine on her own. Because, you know what’s intimidating? Strength and dignity. Deep faith. Self-assuredness. Wisdom. Kindness. Humility. Industriousness...<br />The unsuitable suitor finds nothing more terrifying than a woman who knows her worth to God and to her family.</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Can I say it again?...YES!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If we do nothing else in life than raise our children to feel valuable and worthy - to their family, to their Creator and to their Savior - I'll be content. They should never "need" a spouse to complete them - or lead them - or follow them.</span> <i>Leadership is not about the strong looking for weaker people to lead. It’s about the humble looking for those whose strengths offset their weaknesses and complement their strengths. Strong leaders surround themselves with strong people, not with weak ones. Rather than finding the strengths of others threatening, they celebrate them and leverage them. </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Male or female, don't we all prefer celebrating and leveraging to intimidation? At the risk of sounding redundant...YES!</span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-26767222864507928182014-06-05T18:07:00.000-05:002014-07-12T10:34:30.035-05:0029 Years and Holding, or Counting?People refusing to age jokingly announce that they are "29 and holding." When our 29th wedding anniversary rolled around this month, I momentarily wondered if that 29 and holding thing was supposed to apply to marriages as well? Nah.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXBcGlRx8yVFTRiU9mjWN8Jh5lDyKRDjyfNUolI1-0X6BB69XS7a8zLAZSpep5DnDaGObOdo4E9QQtLy-3F6gYCgBZZMgwogiyIMDNGEAgkh3q0ZV1FxNJwRCQ4CBKBQ6F2AOfw/s1600/1985-wedded-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXBcGlRx8yVFTRiU9mjWN8Jh5lDyKRDjyfNUolI1-0X6BB69XS7a8zLAZSpep5DnDaGObOdo4E9QQtLy-3F6gYCgBZZMgwogiyIMDNGEAgkh3q0ZV1FxNJwRCQ4CBKBQ6F2AOfw/s1600/1985-wedded-cropped.jpg" height="320" width="201" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So young and naive...</td></tr>
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Unlike aging physically, when your body gets a little more worn out each year - a marriage that lasts for the long haul should be getting better and better. Kind of like aging in reverse, right? Most newlyweds would probably argue that they are SO happy right now, in their newly-married bliss, that it couldn't possibly get any better. (Ignorance is also bliss.) I probably would have argued that 29 years ago. But now?<br />
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I never dreamed "happily ever after" would just keep getting more <b>happily</b> with each passing year!<br />
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Sure, doing life with someone day after day, year after year, can get dull and commonplace...if you let it. But it can also get richer, fresher and more rewarding, if you work at it.<br />
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As time goes on, you can figure out what REALLY works. And what really doesn't. (But no...I do not have marriage, or him, all figured out yet...give me another 50 years.) You've shared the best of times, and the worst of times. Sometimes those stressful-at-the-moment, terrible times turn out to be the memories you love to laugh about in years to come. You've shared so many memories together, you can reminisce for hours when time allows. That fact alone makes a long-lasting marriage extremely rich.<br />
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After 29 years, it's become obvious that a great marriage is much more than just "being in love." Anyone can fall in love. Yet many just as easily fall out of love when things aren't going well.<br />
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Not that anyone asked...but if I could give one bit of advice to couples planning to get married, it would be this: get it through your head, right now, that this is a commitment - not a storybook romance - and you're going to do your part to be fully committed. It'll be the toughest commitment you'll ever make; but it's worth it. Know that the other person IS going to fail you. She will make you furious. He will frustrate you to no end. She will have bad hair days and extremely unpredictable mood swings. He will reek after a hard day's work and be too tired for conversation. Whatever the disappointment or frustration - big or small - it will happen. You are marrying a human being, after all, and no matter how perfect you might think they are right now...they aren't.<br />
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I should finish with some nice, churchy advice and say, "Make God your focus...put Him first," etc. etc. If you're both Christians that's just an obvious, Sunday School kind of answer. And if you're not - it's a moot point. I know for us, it works extremely well. When you and your spouse are both concerned about being the best that God wants you to be - it's beneficial for all of those around you. Anything that takes the focus off of yourself and encourages you to focus on others is rewarding and gratifying for all involved. If BOTH of you are living like that, you'll BOTH feel extremely satisfied and cared for. As Rick Warren's "Purpose Driven Life" book so pointedly proclaims...it's not about YOU.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. <a data-datatype=""bible+esv"" data-reference=""Philippians 2:4"" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=11061813" rel="milestone" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #006ca6; display: inline-block; height: 1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; width: 0px;"></a></span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." ~~Philippians 2:3-4</span></i></span></div>
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<br />LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-21658316893148560422014-04-27T15:12:00.000-05:002016-06-10T18:34:28.962-05:00Uh, UFO? Ah, AFO!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our boy, the youngest of our seven kids, is probably the worst speller of our bunch. I'm not complaining or belittling him - just stating facts. We all know he's brilliant...he just probably doesn't know how to spell it.<br />
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Those spelling errors often make us all laugh - himself included, once he figures out what he did wrong. One of the latest incidents happened when his dad was telling him that it was time, once again, to go pick a sister up at the airport.<br />
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"Just think," Nate said, "It takes us longer to drive halfway across the state to pick her up than it takes her to fly here from two states away. If only we had a way to fly there in our own, personal flying machine... I'm sure they're going to have those sometime soon. What do you think they will call them?"<br />
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(side note: We do digress and chase rabbits quite often around here.)<br />
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Without hesitating, Josiah piped in, "It can't be a UFO - so they'll probably call them AFO's."<br />
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We all stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to figure out what the "A" might stand for. Finally we asked him, because no one was getting it.<br />
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A bit surprised at our lack of understanding, he rolled his eyes and said, "Well, it wouldn't be an UNidentified flying object because of course we know what it is - so it would have to be an 'Ah-dentified' flying object...so that makes it an "AFO."<br />
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Ah, phonetics, you are such a tough adversary for a young boy to conquer, but you do provide entertaining diversions along the way.LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-17771726521448992552014-03-30T08:18:00.000-05:002014-04-09T05:50:55.236-05:00Our Tweenagers' View of Dating<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One advantage of having children of various ages is the rapport and comradeship that develops between older and younger. Younger siblings often will freely discuss things with an older sister that they don't even think about mentioning to us, their parents.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wKKA00Nu9FDGFOErFkpbuoHmiXK9aFmAs9K-beBytnJFGkt83-dvwGZHJxDOvdSAgwuRsIeWfcrEAysF7yz3OQ3cmnhFht-Bfs-Jk1cBmqA8eAHvpcyFt4ib2R6bZpXbydN9fA/s1600/josiah-CH-07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wKKA00Nu9FDGFOErFkpbuoHmiXK9aFmAs9K-beBytnJFGkt83-dvwGZHJxDOvdSAgwuRsIeWfcrEAysF7yz3OQ3cmnhFht-Bfs-Jk1cBmqA8eAHvpcyFt4ib2R6bZpXbydN9fA/s1600/josiah-CH-07.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Should I tell her I want to be a vet???" *</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such was the case when our daughter from Texas was home during her grad school's spring break. She stayed up late one evening with our 11 and 12 year old, and reaped the benefit of a very enlightening conversation...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"So - how does dating work?" one of them randomly asked her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well, when someone likes you, they ask if you can go do something together, and get to know each other better. Going out for a meal, doing fun things together, that kind of stuff."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"But isn't the boy supposed to ask daddy's permission first, before you do all that?" asked the youngest sister.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh, ummm...well yes, of course!" fumbled the 24-year-old, not bothering to explain that she has kind of out-grown that phase of life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Wow - some guy is really going to have to like you a LOT to come all the way from Texas to talk to daddy."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well yes, I guess he will." she mumbled, then tried to change directions. "So, when you're old enough to date, will you ask the girl's dad for permission to date her, Josiah?" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh...I guess so," he replied unenthusiastically, but then he perked up, "If I'm really lucky - she will be an orphan!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Insert lots of big sister laughter at her little brother's skills of reasoning.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"So - what do you think you will do on your very first date?" she couldn't resist asking him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"We'll probably just go out for ice cream. But I think I should tell her, before we go, that I want to be a vet when I grow up."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Why do you have to tell her that right away?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well, it takes lots of years of going to school to be a vet - she probably won't like that," was his thoughtful reply.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"But you don't have to talk about all of that right away - you can just have fun getting ice cream with her."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No - I should tell her. Because if I wait and tell her that after we're at the ice cream place, she might get mad at me and not want to ride in the car with me anymore. How would she get home? I always wonder about that in the movies, when the girl gets mad at the guy and walks out - how does she get home?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You have to give the boy credit for his thoughtfulness, even if he doesn't know much about dating...or taxis.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">*photo credit: Denise McDaniel, 2007</span></div>
LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-14828658381977829052014-03-07T06:47:00.001-06:002017-02-27T10:35:58.970-06:00We Don't Get Out Much<div style="text-align: justify;">
One of our young and naive daughters uttered those words several years ago. Even though our guests thought it was hilarious, the rest of us grinned and inwardly thought, "But it's true - we don't."</div>
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Yesterday reminded me, again, of why I choose not to get out much.</div>
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It was my weekly grocery outing to Columbia. Non-eventful...until I finished at the first store and came out to the parking lot. There was a guy leaving a note for me on my car.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://anotherplotdevice.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/used-cars-1.jpg?w=630" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://anotherplotdevice.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/used-cars-1.jpg?w=630" width="200" /></a></div>
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"Wow," I thought. "That's a little creepy, but hey, maybe I'll be able to make Nate jealous enough with this story that he won't be in a hurry to leave the country again for awhile." You know us wives...always scheming.</div>
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No such luck, however, unless Nate will be jealous of our Forester. Yup - the guy wanted my car. Talked to me the entire time I was loading my groceries, telling me what awesome vehicles Subarus are, and how he especially was looking to buy a used Forester, because he'd owned two different Volvos and they just didn't compare.</div>
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Talk about getting your bubble burst in a moment - now I was feeling even older and rustier than my car.</div>
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So, I got my rusty self into my desirable car and headed onto the next store.<br />
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<a href="http://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/columbiatribune.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/4/2a/42abe6f1-e797-5fcf-92b7-8388becfdf90/50ff0f37e9cd0.preview-500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/columbiatribune.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/4/2a/42abe6f1-e797-5fcf-92b7-8388becfdf90/50ff0f37e9cd0.preview-500.jpg" width="200" /></a>Due to the fact that I don't get out much, I had never yet approached Columbia's one diverging diamond interchange from a side road. (I normally like going through it - for a short moment in time I can pretend I'm driving in the UK.) For some silly reason I assumed that I could get from point A(ldi) to point H(yVee) simply by driving west to Stadium and then south to Broadway. Perfectly logical. Imagine my surprise when I approached the diverging diamond to get onto Stadium, and next thing I knew - BAM - I was driving east on I-70. The opposite direction of HyVee...and at 70 MPH to boot. Still don't know how that happened.</div>
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No - I don't get out much.</div>
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A random thought consoled me as I exited off I-70 in order to get back to where I'd started so I could try again. "Well - if that creeper guy who wants my car is stalking me - I probably just lost him without even trying."</div>
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LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-47713760840052243162014-01-11T09:41:00.000-06:002014-01-11T14:59:06.098-06:00I'm Going on an Adventure!<div style="text-align: right;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><i>Only those who will risk going too far can possibly </i></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><i>find out </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><i>how far one can go.</i></span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: xx-small;"><i>--T.S. Eliot</i></span></span></div>
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Most in my family are world travelers, enjoying that "risk of going too far"... <a href="http://kohlfrontporch.blogspot.com/2012/08/mom-ramblings-in-big-world.html" target="_blank">but I rarely do</a>. I'm usually the one willing and able to stay home; playing chauffeur to and from the airport, happily staying behind while they go off on their adventures.<br />
<br />
However, when our oldest daughter and her husband committed to work in North Africa for two years, with no opportunity to come home - I was once again ready to take my family to the other side of the world. After all, it had been thirteen years since we'd last taken our entire clan abroad, and so our younger three children either didn't remember it or weren't born yet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpw8BNZrtEpeVzgePFNWjyYcoOQEuL-dA8OSTUqu-aywTpUBl09gQtM_G23mz_qcAIxcD0_1RTcsZE3a5Bz5sJJh0GTyp0hIlqh6IeRxHM1dxS18RvTF5zV4IwacJQBWDYCtPMdg/s1600/nate-and-i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpw8BNZrtEpeVzgePFNWjyYcoOQEuL-dA8OSTUqu-aywTpUBl09gQtM_G23mz_qcAIxcD0_1RTcsZE3a5Bz5sJJh0GTyp0hIlqh6IeRxHM1dxS18RvTF5zV4IwacJQBWDYCtPMdg/s1600/nate-and-i.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(HOW many hours in the air did you say? And we're smiling?!)</td></tr>
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An adventure was apparently long overdue.<br />
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What an adventure it turned out to be! Getting our entire family together meant eight of us getting on planes and negotiating airports. Once we reached our destination, there were ten of us traveling/living together for two weeks. We were like our own tour group - but without the tour guide taking charge of it all. Never fear. Have you heard that old saying, "Too many chiefs and not enough Indians?" Well, in our family we've probably got too many tour guides and not enough tourists. But it all worked out - we saw some amazing sights, met some even more amazing people, and enjoyed - you guessed it - some <i>amazing</i> family time together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aHOxWSBFasx95fhOc0MxUVZBvN6s8OFeCeMm0ndhOGshDxtbYsR7x0qLusyiLllzTm-0cR9isNAxinMazdssksTxY0HErGGLcTIUy1vJnRDzcKNvGXZav_c5-emHRdO9Jz1sZQ/s1600/paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aHOxWSBFasx95fhOc0MxUVZBvN6s8OFeCeMm0ndhOGshDxtbYsR7x0qLusyiLllzTm-0cR9isNAxinMazdssksTxY0HErGGLcTIUy1vJnRDzcKNvGXZav_c5-emHRdO9Jz1sZQ/s1600/paris.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone may be confused about their location.</td></tr>
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I can't show you pictures of the places we visited. More regrettably, I can't show you pictures of the people we met. (It's terribly scandalous for a woman in that culture to allow her picture to be taken.) But it was easy to see why my daughter Rachel speaks so lovingly of the ladies she lives amongst. They were so hospitable, accepting, friendly, and so happy to meet us. One was laughingly ready to sign a marriage contract between her son and my 12-year-old daughter. Some were insistent on seeing my girls try to dance - so they could laugh hysterically with us. Another was quick to tell me that she prays for one certain thing even more than I do, since she loves Rachel so much. Another invited all TEN of us to her home for a meal (men in one room, ladies in another,) even though it meant a tremendous amount of work for her and her daughter-in-law, and those two ladies wouldn't even sit down with us to enjoy the meal. We were honored and humbled by all of these ladies who have so little materialistically - yet shared of themselves so freely.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhRNAxF4WX9FO_hSMa-c7vEpym-tF3vOum5FsQwXRFa51bunKv0liXIS_HwpbTq2ShT_XbRzD_CSWPwLlf5a0ESwYGqvnrp-0rdjkUnpQ68cwvbxitLb4r_virtu0oHB-GMpwuA/s1600/tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhRNAxF4WX9FO_hSMa-c7vEpym-tF3vOum5FsQwXRFa51bunKv0liXIS_HwpbTq2ShT_XbRzD_CSWPwLlf5a0ESwYGqvnrp-0rdjkUnpQ68cwvbxitLb4r_virtu0oHB-GMpwuA/s1600/tea.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea on a Mediterranean beach</td></tr>
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The men? Well - men and women don't socialize together, so I have no first-hand experience. I do know that Nate and our son-in-law, Kyle, were often invited to sit and drink tea, and were told, "we are not friends - we are brothers." Tea seems to be the common thread that accompanies all social interactions. Women invite ladies into their home for tea - while the men (who are the shopkeepers, and men do most of the shopping) invite guys frequenting their shop to sit and have a cup of tea with them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCZdzYd3FxRPS5_Hqnqj_fgnwAim9mJXqdPBxzLXkiI9neg1Nm8Sr8YwttDkHe-Kck_Cu41Iq9qespdAx533G-nRtoqvKjV5oWywdn8VnN5GRXZPmL3_OGXMhOSYDQfcb0-cD_A/s1600/family-minus-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCZdzYd3FxRPS5_Hqnqj_fgnwAim9mJXqdPBxzLXkiI9neg1Nm8Sr8YwttDkHe-Kck_Cu41Iq9qespdAx533G-nRtoqvKjV5oWywdn8VnN5GRXZPmL3_OGXMhOSYDQfcb0-cD_A/s1600/family-minus-1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel is there - but behind the camera.</td></tr>
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We did get some comical, first-hand experience with the men and boys of the larger cities. Around every corner, another group of males were ready to try out their limited English skills on my daughters... "Hello! Welcome! What nationality are you? I LOVE YOU!" One man was quite creative. As we walked by him, he shouted, "You dropped something!" When one of my girls naively turned to look, he said, "It is only my heart." Thus, our method of walking in public looked like this: Kyle in the front - shooing men away in Arabic - and Nate walking behind, as the rear guard. The rest of us simply kept our eyes down and tried not to laugh.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josiah managed to hide behind the females.</td></tr>
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Yes, it was exotic and exciting to be in such an unnamed, far-off place. Yet the best part of it all was simply having the ten of us together for two whole weeks. We could have been in a random, backwoods place and it would have been just as enjoyable. With four of our seven children now into their adult years - time together is our most precious commodity, a priceless gift.<br />
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One challenge of our togetherness was trying to get family photos will all of us in the picture. At one point, we handed the camera to an English-speaking stranger...but he unknowingly chopped one of us out of the photo.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faster, Nate - faster!</td></tr>
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One time, we tried the selfie thing...only Kyle has an arm long enough for that. We sometimes attempted the timer and remote set-up...but there always seemed to be some glitch. (Nate not being able to run fast enough being the funniest of glitches.)<br />
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No worries. Whether or not the family picture attempts were successful, the memories made were exceptional, and not soon to be forgotten.<br />
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Of course, the 2,000+ photos I now have on file will insure that we remember as many details of our adventure as possible. And the countless stories we'll be repeating to each other in our old-age? They may someday bore our grandkids, but we'll treasure them for a lifetime.<br />
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Here's to venturing out the door countless more times, out of our comfort zones, and being swept away...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>"It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,” he used to say. “You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to.”</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 26px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: 26px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>--Frodo Baggins, about Bilbo</i></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOOK - we're all in the pic! Now if someone could dim that sunlight a bit...</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: 26px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-23925907707960509932013-09-16T19:28:00.000-05:002013-09-17T05:33:20.390-05:00A Weekend Stroll Down Memory Lane<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When a few of my "old" classmates and facebook friends began discussing the possibility of a 30th year class reunion a few months ago, I had mixed feelings. I wanted to see old friends, yet I knew it can be awkward and a bit depressing to get together with people who haven't spent much time together in over 30 years.<br />
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So I decided I'd build the anticipation and fun by making a slideshow for the reunion. All of my daughters' high school graduations have included a slideshow presentation, and it's one of the funnest parts of what can be a very long, drawn out event. We, however, graduated several years before power point presentations and thus - no slideshow for us. So I dug out some old school photos, year books and yellowed newspaper clippings. Some classmates sent me photos - old and new alike. I even spent an afternoon stalking class members' photos on facebook. Most sobering of all, I found myself googling obituaries of the four class members we'd lost since our last reunion.<br />
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Many of these classmates were ones that I'd known since I was 5 years old...ones that I'd spent 8 hours a day with, 5 days a week...for 13 years (we were one of the first classes to experience that amazing grade called "kindergarten!") You don't spend THAT much time with people, especially during such formative years, without getting influenced by and attached to them.<br />
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Then, something almost prophetic happened a couple of weeks before the reunion. While I was visiting with a friend of mine, she simply mentioned high school reunions. You have to understand - this friend had no idea my 30th reunion was coming up soon. She just started talking about how she gladly chose not to attend her 20th class reunion this summer, even though her mom tried to encourage her to consider it. Here's what she told me her mother said:<br />
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<i>My ten year reunion wasn't so great...we were still pretty immature, click-ish and too concerned with "Who's popular and who's not."</i></div>
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<i>My twenty year reunion was pretty good...but many people were too focused on bragging about their successful careers.</i></div>
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<i>But my thirty year reunion? It was GREAT! By that point in life, we'd faced the reality of loosing some class members and we were mature enough to just celebrate the fact that "We're still alive!"</i></div>
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And you know what? She NAILED it. My 30th reunion turned out to be one of the funnest weekends I've had in a long time. Moments of tears, moments of reflection, but mostly just moments of laughter. Laughter over old memories and stories...and laughter at ourselves and our modern problems. (<i>"I've got a smart phone, but I'm too #@%! dumb to use it!"</i>) Lots of mingling...amongst everyone. So what if she was the popular cheerleader and he was the nerd? Who cares if one of them was a high school drop out and another got all A's? Life's too short and we were having too much fun to concern ourselves with such minuscule, ancient details. We've been around long enough now to realize that youthful good looks and popularity are fleeting...all of us made our share of mistakes...and dog gone it, life is short and we better just enjoy the people that have been a part of it while we still can.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Helvetica; font-weight: normal;"><i style="font-size: small;">Real friends are those who, when you've made a fool of yourself, don't feel that you've done a permanent job.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>~~Erwin T. Randall</i></span></span><br />
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LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-84371141502227548552013-07-18T06:15:00.002-05:002013-09-19T09:58:46.979-05:00When You Walked InTaylor Swift's song "I Knew You Were Trouble" has been around for awhile. I've never really paid attention to the lyrics - still haven't. But a few days ago when I randomly heard it playing and she sang the line that must be the whole theme of her song... "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I knew you were trouble when you walked in"...</span> my brain did this humorous flashback thing.<br />
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I immediately remembered the day when Nate literally walked into my life for the very first time. It's a funny memory for me, because it was NOT love at first sight. In fact, at that moment, if Taylor Swift's song had been around, that one particular line would have popped into my mind and stuck.<br />
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It was the first day of our sophomore year of high school. (Mere babes, I know...but hey, we thought we were so grown up since we were no longer freshmen.) Each new school year began with a class orientation meeting...one of the rare times during the high school year when the entire class was all together in one room. That's when he walked in - the new kid.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June of 1982</td></tr>
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Nate's first-impression problem was the fact that he came walking in with the two or three resident cowboys in our class. I won't get specific, but I didn't have a good history with cowboys at school. One teased me often, bashing my already fragile, young teenage self-esteem...and the other experiences went downhill from there. So when Nate came walking in with THEM, in his collared shirt with the pearlized snaps and Wrangler jeans, I merely thought, "Oh great - another cowboy," and didn't look twice.<br />
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Thankfully - you can't judge a book by it's cover. He lost the cowboy shirts after a few weeks, made some more friends, actually earned a few better scores than me in geometry (how dare he?!!) and made me laugh. A lot. And somehow he got a lot cuter over the next couple of years.<br />
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He's now my life long best friend, and most days, he's no "trouble" at all. What an incredible blessing.<br />
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All things considered, I'd say it's also a blessing that Taylor Swift songs weren't around in the early 80's.<br />
<br />LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-74756458468522985982013-03-29T07:15:00.003-05:002013-03-29T15:48:46.149-05:00Exuberant DetailsWe picked up daughter #4 at the airport last Saturday. She was returning from her college spring break...a mission trip to an orphanage in Baja, Mexico. I LOVE those first moments with returned travelers. The experience is still so fresh and alive in their minds, they can't help but share it with the rest of us in exuberant fashion. (Well...unless there's a lot of jet lag involved...then it might not happen quite so exuberantly.)<br />
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Tabitha was full of stories - everything from candy to concrete to contrary kids. She enjoyed the kids, and quickly explained, "These kids have a sixth sense for candy - they KNOW when you have it in your pockets, and they really like you when you give them candy. But hey, I didn't have candy - so any friends I made this week were genuine."<br />
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Genuine is good. How about the kids?<br />
Not always so good...<br />
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"Some of those little kids were SOOOoooooo cute!" Tabitha continued. "But the cute ones could get away with almost anything. Some of my team had been to this orphanage before, and when one of us newbies declared one particular little boy the 'cutest thing ever' she was quickly told, 'Perhaps - but last time we were here, we were debating whether he might be the very spawn of Satan himself!'"<br />
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"Then there was this one little adorable girl who looked just like Boo, from Monsters, Inc. She'd seen the movie, too...because she'd walk up to us and say 'Boo!' And one little boy who liked to beat up on one of the guys on our team had this PERFECT evil villain laugh...'Mmmuaahahahaha'...it was so funny!"<br />
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Ok, so when you weren't playing with the 100 orphans, what did you do?<br />
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"We did some concrete work." Tabitha said...and then paused.<br />
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"So, I kind of gained some respect for my lifting and shovel skills," she tried to explain without too much bragging. "This group of girls would go fill buckets with sand for mixing up the concrete, then expect a guy to come carry it for them. I was like, 'Hey, I got this, girls - we don't need a guy.' And they'd all be like, 'Wait - you can carry that???' and I'd be like, 'Sure - I got this!'"<br />
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"And then I became the one to carry the heavy buckets of water, also," she continued. "After awhile, someone said, 'How come you're so good at all this hard work stuff?'"<br />
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"It's all because of my dad," was her simple reply. Even in the darkness, I could see Nate beaming from the driver's seat. He loves it when he receives even the tiniest of accolades for always expecting his kids to do difficult tasks and work hard, whether or not they're females. He's certainly received his fair share of grief and complaints about it through the years - just last week he heard some griping from our 13-year-old who didn't really want to help with a roofing project. Thus, these glimpses of victory are worth basking in for a few moments.<br />
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"By the end of the day - the Mexican guy who was in charge of the concrete work requested that our team help him again the next day. They said that never happens, because he's very picky and is rarely happy with his volunteer helpers."<br />
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More basking from the driver's seat.<br />
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Lots more stories and laughter ensued throughout the trip home. (An advantage of living over two hours away from the nearest airport.) Some random Spanish sprinkled in now and then for good effect. Stories of digging trenches and guys getting to prove their manliness by eradicating 300 LB rocks from the trench. Climbing mountains for quiet time. Shopping in the market. More kid stories.<br />
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All in all, a great experience - not only for the girl who went, but also for the parents who love to welcome home their world travelers.<br />
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<br />LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-75512984223791161062013-03-03T15:30:00.000-06:002013-03-03T15:39:30.052-06:00A View of the MoviesMy family has a unique view on movies - both as a whole (see <a href="http://kohlfrontporch.blogspot.com/2005/12/front-porch-lady-turned-movie-reviewer.html" target="_blank">this post</a> from several years ago) and as individuals. That uniqueness came up during a meal-time discussion when three of my older girls all happened to be home...<br />
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<a href="http://www.topnews.in/light/files/Bourne-Legacy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.topnews.in/light/files/Bourne-Legacy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
"We saw that new 'Bourne Legacy' movie recently, when all of us were together at my apartment," Bethany, the oldest of the three began. "It was crazy - Tabby and Lydia were just arguing the whole time; Lydia saying she didn't understand how it could be a 'Bourne' movie without Jason Bourne in it...and Tabby saying what a great movie it was, whether or not Jason Bourne was in it!"<br />
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"Then, the whole time we were watching it, they kept arguing. Lydia would say, 'I don't get it - what just happened?' and Tabby trying to tell her to just pay attention and Lydia saying, 'But why are they getting all political - why'd they put politics in it?'" Bethany continued telling us, with all her exuberance and animation.<br />
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But then she paused. "I was like, 'Wait - what do you mean it's political?' To me - if it's not congress and the president, you know...government stuff...then it's not political at all."<br />
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"But Lydia just kept going on and on throughout the movie about how she didn't get it and why'd it have to be political," Bethany continued. "But it wasn't a big deal to me. I didn't have a <b>clue</b> what was going on half the time, but I liked it anyway. They got to hold hands once in a while...there was some great action scenes; so who cares if I didn't get it - I liked it."<br />
<br />
There you have it. A little hand holding is enough to satisfy some of my kids; some don't want anything too complicated, political or confusing; and yet others need deep plots that they can analyze and figure out (without having to explain it all to one of their sisters.)<br />
<br />
Me, personally?<br />
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I tend to agree with the hand-holding girl. A cute little bit of romance goes a long way in my book...errrr, I mean...movie.LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-43160280834935980062013-01-29T22:46:00.000-06:002013-01-29T22:49:05.795-06:00Vintage Car AppealThe older I get, the more I love looking at old automobiles. I don't think I ever care to own one - just another maintenance problem, right? (at least, that's what I keep telling myself ;-) Oh, but they tempt me. Go ahead and try sending a 40+ year old, easy-on-the-eyes fellow my way and I'll rarely look twice. However, drive by in a 40+ year old polished, playful and pampered car - and you've got me.<br />
<br />
I blame it all on my dad.<br />
<br />
Imagine my great joy when recently, we "inherited" decades worth of National Geographic Magazines from my eldest daughter and her husband, who discovered them in the basement of an old house they purchased. Sure, they contain a wealth of information and history within their pages - but I'm simply drawn to the advertisements. Especially the auto ads.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PYPtSwzbpDUp7zmnjZxgrU-CxD9WKCRvpk9laF0IIxxXpKrGe0lZIM46x4CocUvZsVCAdxVdsCydEYuofiB27n4T-2t93gMebyER8iZP_CEu1t0I0ZldqBV4t6Qi1Te_xVYwMA/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PYPtSwzbpDUp7zmnjZxgrU-CxD9WKCRvpk9laF0IIxxXpKrGe0lZIM46x4CocUvZsVCAdxVdsCydEYuofiB27n4T-2t93gMebyER8iZP_CEu1t0I0ZldqBV4t6Qi1Te_xVYwMA/s1600/3.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUNcQquFPrIB7xfATC2jhXhpgvIFH7WCTAbQnOjUbDoylRxy2d3LK4rewJbfp1nE7ykrK4h8RigUsv1RA7SZo_cljH5lDvW6QI9vBKHLyIXbBo88T7sErYyVjHE5IxCvYoV0cwg/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUNcQquFPrIB7xfATC2jhXhpgvIFH7WCTAbQnOjUbDoylRxy2d3LK4rewJbfp1nE7ykrK4h8RigUsv1RA7SZo_cljH5lDvW6QI9vBKHLyIXbBo88T7sErYyVjHE5IxCvYoV0cwg/s1600/2.jpg" /></a><br />
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These ads from the early 1930's rather make me yawn. A bit TOO old, perhaps? Ah, but I do like those prices - wouldn't it be awesome to purchase a brand new car for prices like that?<br />
<br />
Where I stop and browse for hours on end is in the 1950's editions. What fantastic ads - for everything from porcelain toilets to fountain pens. But of course, my favorite of all are the car ads. Aren't these beautiful?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb_IHz4B2To2yPqRhHwViZdgnoLBEuhsfPyqUxFUU9j_V1_VRNxSqoOK7A7_-qQA54KnfaOy-NsmLbQgT8k-tvz5dVE69duv8jSf2l99UhHAoOPk6SZqCFW6yARJT41COjENcww/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb_IHz4B2To2yPqRhHwViZdgnoLBEuhsfPyqUxFUU9j_V1_VRNxSqoOK7A7_-qQA54KnfaOy-NsmLbQgT8k-tvz5dVE69duv8jSf2l99UhHAoOPk6SZqCFW6yARJT41COjENcww/s1600/5.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMzJrZTFXkqMBv3iZCej7NGxr4Kjszy4sgzejDs3Wv9mjqZjJYxVmhmS1w0WAKlUc7V4Owz3yWraglwSGmTNHI4ot6d4zMkZJOsmB8OmhUWQmxlfqcgDJ-Cow0XxPWarOY2BS4A/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMzJrZTFXkqMBv3iZCej7NGxr4Kjszy4sgzejDs3Wv9mjqZjJYxVmhmS1w0WAKlUc7V4Owz3yWraglwSGmTNHI4ot6d4zMkZJOsmB8OmhUWQmxlfqcgDJ-Cow0XxPWarOY2BS4A/s1600/7.jpg" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGDuSC3ROpKrdZO8WXlQzjT8NFsw-ABZQnvxQejiZOmJ1wc1Dxb50ZdBEUVvz-mYsPk5I37wzhUnvfQTjhKmpJ_ZdzAMiQZuCRMP8eKqXM_wB90YtlO3FzifZXBY9GFnCWZdp3Q/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGDuSC3ROpKrdZO8WXlQzjT8NFsw-ABZQnvxQejiZOmJ1wc1Dxb50ZdBEUVvz-mYsPk5I37wzhUnvfQTjhKmpJ_ZdzAMiQZuCRMP8eKqXM_wB90YtlO3FzifZXBY9GFnCWZdp3Q/s1600/8.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've never liked station wagons or their successor, <br />
the minivan...but THESE are fantastic!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwMca2TXRCGedCmCQJv4JbJha4r-UZippNIubHfS7LadyjFi_zkd85HjEC9RxUcF-Bx5x1-HACTrEAfdf3IZ4oaDppSHixDEGv5eF6F8WB9PlPlczvwBLRr_MMzmiZ-XZe_B58Q/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwMca2TXRCGedCmCQJv4JbJha4r-UZippNIubHfS7LadyjFi_zkd85HjEC9RxUcF-Bx5x1-HACTrEAfdf3IZ4oaDppSHixDEGv5eF6F8WB9PlPlczvwBLRr_MMzmiZ-XZe_B58Q/s1600/6.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know about handling - but yes, it<br />
is a beautiful thing!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqH5eugcaphHMlam3l7qXZV96Uz2b5I03k5jsd-vp9PbW5Ed6eAw2KzLXFB6mXO2I6M4hAb-vw_JaWGbxRO3m2sSal0H9Le37hXT2cdd7b4Itp4QoaOqPmcs8-QW6o2WlziTaRw/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqH5eugcaphHMlam3l7qXZV96Uz2b5I03k5jsd-vp9PbW5Ed6eAw2KzLXFB6mXO2I6M4hAb-vw_JaWGbxRO3m2sSal0H9Le37hXT2cdd7b4Itp4QoaOqPmcs8-QW6o2WlziTaRw/s1600/4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cadillac evolved a bit from the early 1930's!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The 1960's were good too, of course, as that's when the beloved Mustang came on the scene. Unfortunately, National Geographic didn't seem to attract Ford's advertising dollar and I found no vintage Mustang ads. I did, however, find another ad of the ever evolving Cadillac.<br />
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Then came the 1970's, and it's kind of all downhill from there. Another Cadillac ad from the late 1970's, when gas mileage was now a much bigger issue and classy looking "boats" were losing their appeal.</div>
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Last, and most certainly least - the 1970's saw the birth of the economy car, with American auto companies bragging that their cars are imported...from Germany. I believe I just heard those early 1930's, post WWI and preWWII counterparts roll over in their graves.</div>
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Oh well. With today's gas prices, none of us would want to be driving one of those 1950's gas-guzzlers on a daily basis, so who am I to complain? I did, however, try to pass on my love of those gas-guzzlers to one of my daughters, by giving her a unique gift for her retro kitchen.</div>
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I do believe my dad would have approved.</div>
LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-14975613293485774382012-08-21T10:04:00.000-05:002012-08-21T10:04:03.254-05:00Things That Make You Go "WHAT?"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyHJYx93oQK9gSZrndpjdjLGODdCBNpBCWFqrsJQIRI7yXJ_bLNqfkOC975vC7C8URPDD0ae5aFm63KINOLnnfsC6gewryQrr1vFB1r3ZzsbJmDvWHawhmLXQrVvaPL2bwpJ2cQg/s1600/rope-swing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyHJYx93oQK9gSZrndpjdjLGODdCBNpBCWFqrsJQIRI7yXJ_bLNqfkOC975vC7C8URPDD0ae5aFm63KINOLnnfsC6gewryQrr1vFB1r3ZzsbJmDvWHawhmLXQrVvaPL2bwpJ2cQg/s320/rope-swing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Enough of these sentimental, thought-provoking blog posts. It's time to lighten up.<br />
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Those kids to the left, our youngest two children, are the cause of a lot of laughter in our family, as well as some head-scratching moments when we sit back and say, "What?!" This past Sunday was a good example...<br />
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We've recently found ourselves in a position of freedom on Sundays. In the past few years, Nate has been serving as interim and transitional pastors at different churches, and thus our Sundays are always planned out. However, since he just finished his latest transitional pastorate, we've found ourselves with the unique opportunity to decide what we want to do each Sunday.<br />
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We've enjoyed the chance to visit a few different churches and relax more. This past Sunday - we made a rare choice to visit a large church in Columbia. Not since attending Second Baptist Church of Houston do I remember visiting a really large church - and that was many years ago. This was less than half the size of that Houston church, but for us, it was still huge. I was anxious to see what my younger kids thought of it - since they've never experienced anything other than our small, rural congregations.<br />
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Thus, after we left the church's second of three services and were heading out for a Sunday afternoon drive (with the freedom of not having to make it back in time for committee meetings or evening services) I asked my youngest kids, "So, what did you think of that church service? Kind of different?"<br />
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Right away, the eleven-year-old chimed in, "The best part was when everyone stood up all together, and then sat down all together!"<br />
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"YEAH!" shouted the nine-year-old in agreement.<br />
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What??! No mention of the extremely cool and talented worship band - the theater type seats - the dual large screens - the skinny-jean-clad pastor - the bookstore - the coffee shop? <br />
<i><b>Just people standing up and sitting down???</b></i><br />
<br />
"But we stand up and sit down during our smaller church's worship service," I felt compelled to explain.<br />
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"I know - but when ALL those people stand up together, it looks really cool and it makes a loud noise," was their simple clarification.<br />
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I love kids' fresh and unique take on things. Theirs, however, made me wonder if King Solomon should have added just one more item to his famous Ecclesiastes 3 passage. I can just see it now, perhaps right after "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">he should have added this little addendum for my kids' sake, "A time to stand up, and a time to sit down." Or it could have been, "A time to make a lot of noise while standing & sitting, and a time to refrain from making a lot of noise." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yup - someday in Heaven I'll ask Solomon why he neglected to add that little tidbit.</span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-49277194250341770232012-08-03T19:44:00.000-05:002016-06-10T18:40:28.676-05:00Mom Ramblings in a Big WorldIt's been another one of those days. You know the kind - you've just sent a child off somewhere, and you're feeling those melancholy mamma moments. I think it must happen to every parent in varying ways and at various times. That first day of kindergarten. Their first sleep-over. Their first week away at camp. Then things get bigger, and before you know it you're sending them off for a few weeks at a time on trips that woo your fledglings to try out their wings and make those first faltering flights farther from home.<br />
<br />
Ah, but then there's college. Near or far - sending them off to college has to be one of the biggest, hardest, "cutting the apron strings" events. That is, until the wedding day takes place. Wouldn't you think that once the wedding occurs and they've got a home of their own, that would be that and a parent would become accustomed to not having their adult child near-by? Perhaps...until they decide to take off to the other side of the world for a couple of years, then you get hit all over again...a bit like that first day of school times 1000.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoM3T8ExwuUDK450HnjH0XK9tR3wBZBauZJ0prGZHPkpCSWjAXzWFafoZLw0wJsarmrp-4IupySDhxLyzVs27XPB29P7yu6gWMb-TnDhyphenhyphenWvCmsjAwL1RGNNN90EZ4Edcva3Ikdw/s1600/Lydia-2-england.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoM3T8ExwuUDK450HnjH0XK9tR3wBZBauZJ0prGZHPkpCSWjAXzWFafoZLw0wJsarmrp-4IupySDhxLyzVs27XPB29P7yu6gWMb-TnDhyphenhyphenWvCmsjAwL1RGNNN90EZ4Edcva3Ikdw/s320/Lydia-2-england.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aug. 2012 - Sending Lydia off <br />
to England until December</td></tr>
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I feel as if I've witnessed the view to the left a few too many times. Herding everyone into an airport, so that one (or two or three) can head off to another land - often half a world away.<br />
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I think I can say it all began in 2001. Granted, Nate did a few mission trips before that - but in January of '01 all of us <a href="http://kohlfrontporch.blogspot.com/2005/02/great-taxi-hi-jack-prt-1.html" target="_blank">went to India</a> for three months. That was the beginning of our children developing globe-trotting habits and a heart like their father's (and Father's.)<br />
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Before I knew it, before that year was even over, Nate and two of the girls headed off to Guatemala. The next year, two of the girls headed to Ecuador - only 13 and 15 years old and their first mission trip without mom or dad along for the ride. The year after that - I think two of them went to Mexico. It all gets a bit blurry after that point...a total of three different trips to Mexico and Guatemala, and a few more India trips interspersed amongst trips to places like <a href="http://kohlfrontporch.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-proud-of-that.html" target="_blank">Rwanda</a> and Nicaragua.<br />
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That was just the mission trips. A couple of years ago, the "semesters abroad" began...first India, and now two different ones in England - including some travel to Spain, Italy, France, Germany, Ireland and Scotland. Soon - the "Journeyman" trips begin - two year commitments to serve overseas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3oKDp82w_2CHw3MKcKf7cpJQzhy8pygIUUI9OB4wVuJJYQYlBVHFBpWvAVCMRE8ZX9Rm5gCxOqDaHpGMv1z3_kCaDoAvXyITh1JJ2YMWtftT8LEOIqE9uerdWWyCIvNv7YDvd3w/s1600/india5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3oKDp82w_2CHw3MKcKf7cpJQzhy8pygIUUI9OB4wVuJJYQYlBVHFBpWvAVCMRE8ZX9Rm5gCxOqDaHpGMv1z3_kCaDoAvXyITh1JJ2YMWtftT8LEOIqE9uerdWWyCIvNv7YDvd3w/s320/india5.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
Am I complaining? Good golly, NO! Fantastic opportunities, unforgettable experiences and blessed days of serving the poorest of the poor - who could begrudge any of that? But there are many moments when my sighing heart says <b><i>very</i></b>, very loudly, "The world is a very big place, and my child on the other side of it is so very, very small."<br />
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Thus, in the midst of my heavy heart and melancholy, I have to remind myself that God is a very big God. No matter how big the world is and how far away my child is - it is HIS world and that child is HIS child. I'm just the minuscule tool that had the wonderful, brief opportunity to mold and shape that life. Thus, I need to allow God to lift my spirits with faith in the fact that He's now using my children as the tools that shape the lives of others.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." --Hebrews 11:1,6</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /><span class="text Job-42-2" id="en-ESV-13925" style="position: relative;">“</span>Ah, Lord <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>! It is you who have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and by your outstretched arm! Nothing is too hard for you." --<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Job-42-2" style="position: relative;">Jeremiah 32:17</span></span></i></span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-76001102642693772982012-07-01T19:37:00.000-05:002012-07-01T19:39:09.371-05:00Aging GracefullyIs it possible to age gracefully? Or should we kick and scream and fight against it as long as possible? Do we sit back and say, "Okay, I'm done...someone else take care of me now." Or is it possible to make the most of every moment of life - even those future moments when we'll be arthritic or feeble, disoriented or disabled?<br />
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I've heard a few of my friends discussing one of the big challenges of our current "middle-age" time in life...caring for aging parents. It can be such a touchy and difficult issue. Most likely, our parents don't want to be taken care of anymore than we want to be taking care of them. How can that all be dealt with gracefully?<br />
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Mercy, perhaps? Showing mercy when they repeat a story for the fifth time, and simply saying, "Oh really? That's interesting." Mercifully allowing them to do something themselves - even though you see they didn't do a very good job at it. With great love and mercy...remembering all the times they provided for your daily needs without a word of gratitude from you, wiped your nose, cleaned up your messes and "oohed and awed" over your sloppy crayon drawings as if they were masterpieces.<br />
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Mercy is simply remembering that it's not all about YOU. When we take ourselves out of the center of everything - life suddenly becomes more merciful and gracious.<br />
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Mercy is one of those things that you don't just "get" and then you're all done. It's not a mathematical equation that always works just right as long as you get the variables and numbers right. Mercy is a moment by moment choice and decision on our part. Sometimes you'll get it right ("Oh, that's okay - I didn't like that old vase, anyway.") Other times you'll fail miserably at it ("You did WHAT???!!!")<br />
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I believe the key to aging gracefully is getting mercy right more often than we get it left. Or left more than wrong. Right? Excuse me while I go take a nap...did someone make my arms shorter, because I can't seem to hold this thing far enough away to read anymore. ;-)<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span class="text Ps-71-9" id="en-NIV-14986" style="position: relative;">"Do not cast me away when I am old; </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-71-9" style="position: relative;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 20px;">do not forsake me when my strength is gone." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Psalm 71:9</i></span></span></span></span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-68678974687821445432012-06-03T18:07:00.001-05:002016-06-10T18:50:11.258-05:00A Little Reflecting<div style="text-align: right;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Grandma and Grandpa Cox - 1930s</td></tr>
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Another Memorial Day celebrated and gone. As we visited the first cemetery to decorate a young 18 year-old's grave, then headed to another one to decorate my father and grandparents' graves - I couldn't help but be reminded of the brevity of this thing called "life." We passed the graves of two babies - our friends' children who were both only months old when they passed on. Yet there were my grandparents...my Grandpa Cox was blessed with over 90 years of life before his death. It's human nature to question why some lives are cut so short and others are long and full. Are we all born into some grand game of chance? I'm not much of a believer in chance - but I do believe that no matter the span of our lifetime here on this revolving rock, it is a gift from God. More than anything, it's a gift to each and every person touched during that lifetime, no matter its length. And in the grand scheme of things - the history of all mankind - even a 100 year-old lifetime is merely a breath, a heartbeat, a wisp of wind when compared to all of eternity.<br />
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That fact is never more noticeable than in a cemetery. Strange as it may be, I've always enjoyed wandering around the older portions of the cemeteries, where the stones are weathered and beaten and sometimes broken. There are rarely any flowers here - any who would have known the dearly departed are long-since departed themselves. Thus, I squint and stoop and rub and do my best to read the gravestones. In my small, minuscule way I feel as if I'm honoring this life - recognizing the fact that this was a living, breathing, human being full of hopes and dreams, not unlike myself. Yet here, merely a century later, sometimes less than half a century later, that life is already forgotten.<br />
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For instance - those three brothers, all dead before the age of 20 and with graves marked simply by a small square of concrete in the ground and names scrawled in a rough hand. What's their story? An even bigger question for me as a mother - what was their parents' story? Obviously too poor to purchase "professional" headstones to mark their sons' resting places. Did they feel shame in that fact? Or did they take loving pride in kneeling there on that hallowed ground and creating their own hand-crafted memorials to their sons? How did they go through the remainder of their lives - full of sorrow and bitterness? Did they let their brokenness take hold of their lives, or were they able to move on - scarred, but with hope for a future eternity? I'm sure I think and ponder amongst those old graves a bit too much - and yet, who else will reflect? I always feel that it's the least I can do - to pause for a moment, read a name, a couple of dates, and realize that yes, life is short and that person died a long time ago - but he also lived. And that life was a blessing to many people.<br />
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<i>"While we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporary; but the things which are not seen are eternal."</i> II Cor. 4:18<br />
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LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-62834699789463134932012-06-01T00:00:00.000-05:002013-02-01T09:52:30.334-06:00Living Life Full-ThrottleAbout 30 years ago, I found myself falling for this guy who could make me laugh more than anyone I'd ever met. (Being a person who's always taken life and myself much too seriously - this was highly attractive to me.) Not only that - but he didn't really care about things like image or "being cool" or trying to be a part of the popular crowd. He simply lived life - full-speed ahead, and the rest of the world could take him or leave him.<br />
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My insecure, people-pleasing self really liked that about him, and so I chose to take him. It was on this day, 27 years ago that I said "I do" to the biggest blessing of my life. He's still smart, cute, faithful and all that good stuff, but one of the things I most appreciate is the fact that he's still making me laugh everyday.<br />
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Barring the poor quality of the footage (my 9 and 12 year olds filmed it) this little video shows just a bit of what I'm talking about. My kids captured on video a portion of a very fun evening spent with our friends the Lutz's. Nate and David decided to try out our "Abba You Can Dance" game on the Wii. These guys grew up listening to Abba and all that other good music of our generation...but could they dance to it? Ummmm...you'll have to decide that for yourself. The dancing skills (or lack thereof) matter not to me. I just love the fun-loving exuberance here.<br />
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(David and Nate, remember -- you care about me very much and you will not hold anything against me, seek revenge or anything of the sort, correct? ;-)</div>
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Last but not least...they say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, when I saw this humorous picture and caption a few months ago, I couldn't help but laugh. If I had to use one image to try and describe all the crazy adventures, frustrations, surprises, out-of-my-comfort-zone occurrences and FUN that have been a part of being married to Nate Kohl over the past 27 years...this would be the picture.<br />
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Happy 27th Nate - here's to many more years of happy flying (and dancing!)<br />
<br />LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11061813.post-73404741118745056162012-04-18T20:04:00.004-05:002012-06-13T05:37:12.146-05:00The Driver's Ed Car<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking a three hour road-trip recently in our little 17-year-old Subaru caused a bit of reflection on my part. The flash backs started within minutes of home, when I pulled over to the post office to drop off some mail. That car...that post office...that lone utility pole...and a 15 year old permit-driver...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You need to pull into the post office, so I can mail this," I remember saying, long before we'd actually reached the post office.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ok...go slowly now...slow down...stop...STOP!" and then the ominous "thud" as we struck the utility pole, very squarely and solidly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What part of 'stop' didn't you understand?!" I assume were the words that came out of my mouth...although now, five years later, all I can do is laugh as I think back on the memory. She felt terrible, I felt terribly nervous, and the car probably just shrugged and thought, "Oh well, what's one more little ding?" (After all, this was the third girl in the family to use this as the driver's ed car.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And THAT reminded me...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2004, and daughter #1 was now licensed. She drove herself all over the place, to Columbia often and to Harrisburg every day for school. But then there was the morning that she pulled out in front of someone. That was the end of the front "bumper" on the driver's ed car. Actually, we all know that cars today don't really have "bumpers" - they have these fiberglass things that crack and break and shatter. She, nor her parents, could afford the repair job - and since the accident was her fault and we only carried liability insurance on the old car - duct tape became her auto body repair technique. She drove that car around for nearly a year with duct tape holding the front of it together. But then one day when leaving school, she stopped and the young guy behind her didn't...so now the rear "bumper" was dinged, along with the back hatch. But this time it wasn't her fault - so we got an insurance check. A check that was big enough to cover the repairs on the front and rear bumpers...and we just left the ding in the hatch.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll never forget the words of the guy at the auto body place, when we told him we wanted the front and rear bumpers of our little driver's ed car replaced. He laughed and said, "Are you sure you don't want me to just fasten railroad ties on the front and back instead?" We thought it was funny at the moment. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the utility pole at the post office...we realized our auto body guy was a prophetic genius. Next time we'll probably listen to him. After all, the little car only has 240,000 miles on it, has only had one hole welded up on the engine block so far...and still has three more children to get through the Kohl family driver's ed program.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PS - This little car has provided <a href="http://kohlfrontporch.blogspot.com/2007/05/highs-and-lows-of-family-vehicles.html" target="_blank">fun writing material</a> more than once. (And did I mention that the car occasionally murders wildlife? That is quite traumatic for new drivers, in a funny sort of way, and makes for some <a href="http://kohlfrontporch.blogspot.com/2009/03/funny-thing-happened-on-way-to.html" target="_blank">interesting stories</a>.)</span>LA Kohlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04087379818217065758noreply@blogger.com0