Role Model Rayburn

Each day that my dog wakes up I can see him think to himself, bring it on. He really is a role model for me in this way, because each day when I wake up I think to myself, come on, come on, you can do it. If you go downstairs you can have your cup of coffee.

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Many nights I lie awake unable to sleep because there are so many quandaries I want to figure out. Such as, what was God’s intention when he made us so that we each have our own viewpoint. Every viewpoint differs. Why? Are we here merely to overcome the challenges that that brings about?  It still rankles me that we don’t all see things the same way. Actually, when I was child I was shocked to learn this. Some will say it makes life more interesting and textured. Life would be so boring if we all saw life from the same vantage point.  Really? 

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I really didn't know what to do about her birthday.  Should I mention it and see if the kids remember?  Should I make a cake?  No clue.  So I asked them.  Grace said, "why don't we get pizza and then go to the bookstore and each pick out a book for Mommy's birthday?"  But then she kind of ruined it by saying "and then when Grammie dies we can get a book and when Poppy dies we can get a book and when Ripley (the dog) dies we can get a book."  Calvin thought it was a good idea as long as his could be Power Rangers.  So that's what we did.

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How to Eat Dark Chocolate: A Lesson in Living

"Did you know," my friend says, handing me a square of dark chocolate, "there is a special way to eat dark chocolate?"

I hold the thin wafer between my fingers, feel the sticky slickness where it has begun to melt in the warmth of my fingertips.

"You're supposed to smell it first, and then, before you chew, let it rest on your tongue until it's just slightly melted."

I raise the chocolate to my nose, take a deep breath, set it delicately on my tongue, close my mouth.

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Eight Minutes

Eight minutes…eight minutes…eight minutes and he was gone.
He is obviously more present dead than alive.
Solid, stoic, and oppressively kind, he was a young man of few words and gone before the smoke from the gun settled into the grassy lawn.
It was eight minutes from the time he stepped out of his brother’s car (singing, laughing, and joking) to the moment his bloody head hit the floor.

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China Plate

The other day I heard someone refer to a person as broken.  I started thinking about this statement and came to realize that we are all broken in different ways.  We are like a china plate that is fresh and new when first made.  While using the china plate each day, bits and pieces start to chip away, sometimes in small nicks and sometimes in big flakes.  We chip and crack as we move thru life.  We also gather skills in life that help keep our plate from entirely breaking.  I guess you would call it glue….the glue of life.

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